Dear owners of the sweet, dilapidated Victorian house that is clearly haunted,
My name is Aprill and my husband and I have been searching for the perfect home for our growing family for years. In fact, at this point, we are searching for anything with a roof that isn’t being sold for half a million dollars. So when we saw yours listed for significantly below market price, we instantly fell in love. We think it’s the perfect price to slide ever deeper into crippling debt. But with your beautiful decrepit home, it will be slightly less crippling debt and a great space to make amazing memories with our two beautiful children and adorable little puppy.
I mean, a 5,000 square foot crumbling house with seven bedrooms, four bathrooms and a horrific past? Not to mention the six acres, complete with its own pet cemetery and a spooky well? Dream. Come. True. At least in this housing market. Even with the clearly haunted aspects.
Poltergeist? No problem. I already wake up nightly to small, heavy breathing, terrifying presences standing right by my bed, demanding water and another bedtime story.
Strange banging sounds and an evil spirit yelling “GET OUT” at all hours? Not an issue. We currently live on the second floor of a triple decker and our downstairs neighbors hate us. Like, HATE US. They are always banging on the ceiling when we dare so much as to sneeze and are constantly trying to get us evicted. So we will feel right at home.
Blood coming from the walls? Good with it. My dog once had diarrhea on the couch. And my bed. And the stairs, because they are the only carpeted part of the house. Also, ever since I hit my 40’s, my periods are straight up like that elevator scene from “The Shining” so I am far from squeamish.
There was a murder? A suicide? A murder-suicide? Cool. Cool cool cool. I’ve been sharing one bathroom with my husband and children for a decade now. Trust me, nothing is more ghastly than what I have faced walking into that space on the daily.
Oh, an old gross ghost lady always hanging out in the bathtub, you say? As long as she lets me poop in peace, it’s fine by me.
Demonic possession? Have fun dealing with my chronic anxiety and insomnia, my dark friend. Plus, I once had a child projectile vomit mashed potatoes all over me and the kitchen table, so no biggie. Besides, my kids are 7 and 9 right now, and we are staring down puberty, just right over there on the horizon. That’s when I’ll really need an exorcism, am I right?
Look, it’s pretty hard to scare me at this point. And nothing is scarier than this ridiculous housing market. My expectations could not possibly get lower, which is why I can already see myself hanging out on your tumbledown wraparound porch, sharing a coffee with my new poltergeist bestie. The two of us happily watching while my dog frolics with the reanimated cat corpses, and my son plays chase with the spooky girl who comes up out of the well, and my daughter is busy whispering murderous secrets with the creepy Victorian doll she found up in the attic.
Now I know, even with the steep discount, your home is still a bit out of our price range, because our ideal price range is zero. But we just had to take a chance on an offer because it’s everything we’ve ever wanted in a home. Or at least everything we are willing to put up with in a home in these dystopian times.
And I know you probably already have many other offers because the world has gone insane, but I assure you my family and I will go out of our way to make every horrific entity that lives in your house feel right at home.
Thank you so much for your time and consideration. And please tell Bathtub Granny I said hello.
Chick Writes Stuff 