Chef Patrick’s Halloween horror story

Nightfall came upon the little Florida town, where Chef Patrick closed shop for the day.

His real estate business was doing great; in fact, he had to hire more people.

“Zez, we have to hire more workers for the biz, honey,” said Chef Patrick to his wife, Zezura.

“At this rate, we will be selling a house every 12 hours and I will be able to go back to domaining full time!” he exclaimed.

Sure enough, they placed an ad on Craigslist and the phone was buzzing. One candidate for the job was particularly eager to take the position.

“I vill do what it takes, to get zat job!” said Klaus, who had presented himself as an exchange student from Romania. “I verked hard at castle of my great-grand father and I know verk vell.”

Chef Patrick set up an appointment for 9pm that same night.

“Zez, you take the kids trick or treating and I’ll handle the application, mmmkay?” he told his wife, then sat down to watch the news.

New York City, his hometown, was devastated by the weather. He switched to football to avoid the depressing news on tv. The kids and the wife left at eight o’clock and sure enough time flew by.

At 8:58pm the doorbell rang.

“Hello, Tsef Patrik, it is I, Klaus for ze realtor job, pleased to meet you” said the guest at the door. Chef Patrick smiled, and shook hands with the candidate for the position.

Klaus’s hand was dry and cold, like a leather handbag that was left in a humid cellar overnight.

“Please, come in, make yourself at home,” said Chef Patrick, politely. There was something odd about this fella, and he could not pinpoint it.

Klaus sat on the couch, adjusting his long, black raincoat. Weather was cold but dry, and his carefully combed back hair was all shiny. Chef Patrick offered a drink.

“Coffee, tea, crumpets?” said the Chef, eager to present his wife’s cookies. “I hear that you are from England, is that so?” he asked.

Klaus leaned further back in the couch, arm along the edge, his long fingers tapping it slowly.

“Oh, no, I am from Romania, but no problem, same bad weather!” he said, showing his full set of white teeth.

Chef Patrick felt chills on the back of his neck, as Klaus fixed his dark eyes upon him. Something about this applicant made him extremely nervous and wanted this meeting to be over, soon.

Still, he had to go forth with the interview.

“So, Klaus, we are offering $100 per day and 1% per contract for every house sold, how’s that?” asked Chef Patrick.

Klaus looked at him, then smiled without saying a word.

“Umm, I see that you have had experience running a real estate business for quite some time, and that none of your customers ever complained. What exactly do you mean by this phrase: ‘No client ever came back to complain, in this lifetime.'”, asked the Chef.

Klaus leaned forward, then picked up a little butter knife that Chef had placed in front of him, then buttered a crumpet Zezura had made.

“Vell, no complaints from customers, it iz simple. Job is clean, I perform very fast and everyone is happy. Hmmm? It iz superb job, I like!” said Klaus, smiling wide. “Are you offering life insurance, master Patrik?”

Chef Patrick looked at his clock. He wished that Zezura and the kids were at home; this guy was feeling creepier by the minute. He had to find a way to excuse himself, so he did.

“Umm…Okay, excuse me for a minute, I need to ask my wife about the insurance part, be right back”, said Chef Patrick, leaving the room.

He rushed to the back of the house, where the kitchen was. Frantically, he dialed Zezura’s number. Her voicemail kicked in. The Chef cussed through his teeth, out of pure fear and nervousness.

“Honey, I am all freaked out, this guy Klaus looks weird. I swear, he could be a vampire to drink my blood. Hurry home, please!”

When he went back to the living room, Klaus wasn’t there.

He could have heard him, if he opened the front door, due to the side bell. He looked around the room, and into the small office where he casually played video games.

The guest had simply vanished in thin air.

Chef Patrick opened the door, ever so slightly, peeking out into the night that crawled like spider ink. He could hear people, parents and kids hopping from door to door, with lanterns in hand and bags full of candy, all dressed up in their Halloween costumes.

Then, he felt something behind him, touching his back, like a cat’s tail brushes one’s legs to seek attention. But there were no cats in the house, and Chef Patrick’s neck hair crawled with perspiration.

Turning around, he saw Klaus at the far end of the room, standing akimbo; a bright red cape over his shoulders, his face pasty white and fangs visible through his half-open mouth.

As he walked away from this mirage, Klaus laughed from across the room, a laughter so demonic and sinister that made him regret the time and day he sold his share in

“Please don’t hurt me! I never did anything wrong! Please don’t hurt me!” yelled the Chef at the top of his lungs, as Klaus took hopping strides from across the room.

The Chef fell on his back and onto the couch, while Klaus hovered over him, sharp fingernails and white, perfectly white teeth with fangs protruding; a sinister perfume that reeked of death and rotten animals that crawl into the town’s forgotten cemeteries. He closed his eyes, wishing this to be a bad, awful Halloween dream.

But it wasn’t. Klaus dipped his mouth into Chef Patrick’s neck, nailing him against the sofa, rubbing his entire body onto his with manic laughter and sinister, evil rage that erupted into a thunderous roar. Patrick felt his pants getting wet and closed his eyes, preparing for the end.


When he opened his eyes, Zezura was hovering atop of him, vampire facial makeup and all, so perfect yet so sinister; her hair flowing out of the restrictive mask that she had been wearing all along.

“Oh my god sweety, you peed your pants! Did I really scare you?” she laughed, taking her red cape off. “It was a joke, honey, just a joke! I bought my outfit from!” she added, putting her arms around him.

Chef Patrick didn’t say a word, but ever so quietly went to the bathroom to put on a fresh pair of underwear. This was all too embarrassing, and yet, stimulating, almost arousing in a very peculiar, yet erotic way.

He returned to the room, where Zezura was sorting the kids’ candy. The lights were back on and the tv played “How I met your mother” with frequent intermissions sponsored by Mitt Romney and Barack Obama.

Zezura smiled, and Chef Patrick found her ravishingly sexy in her vampire outfit. He could not take his eyes off her.

“Kids, you’re going to bed in 10 minutes,” said Chef Patrick. “Mommy and I have some big vampire stake to take out of its coffin”, he added, winking at Zezura.

It was going to be one hell of a sweaty Halloween night after all.


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