My Mother in Law ... the Hearse!

By Otto Baron

Poor Sam Franck.

He has the mother in law from Hell -literally. During the Funeral for Sams Mother in Law Clarice, Sam thinks his troubles with her will soon be six feet under. But you cant keep a bad girl down, especially when she steals the heart of the prince of darkness. Soon to his great fear, Sams mother in law is back-as a hearse. Can Sam fi nd a way to send his Mother in law back to her new lovers domain, before she can drag him down with her?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 24, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477113769

Otto Baron

Otto Baron lives in Wilson, North Carolina, with a 59 hearse that isn’t possessed by evil. We’ll he’s almost certain it isn’t.

Book preview

My Mother in

Law . . . the

Hearse!

Otto Baron

Copyright © 2012 by Otto Baron.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

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115423

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 1

For one-hundred years, the Pillsbury Mansion dominated the small rise in Los Angeles, California on which it had been built. This mansion had been a far larger and more stylish home than the previous residence on Bunker Hill that the Pillsbury family had occupied for a mere decade. Once they occupied the mansion, this became the citadel from which the Pillsbury family would dominate both financially and socially the City of Angels for the next several decades.

Over the years many would make their way up the inclined driveway to pay homage to the Pillsbury’s. Initially in horse drawn carriages; followed by Dusenbergs, Packards, Cadillacs, and the occasional Rolls Royce. Many a night, the windows of the mansion would seem to glow with the blazing of a thousand lights during the many social functions hosted by the Pillsbury’s. Tonight however, was not such a night.

Tonight, the Pillsbury Mansion seemed rather lifeless. Although for more than a century the Pillsbury family had enjoyed no small amount of influence over their dominion; not too long after the end of the Twentieth century in the summer of 2002, the last member of the family to bear the name of Pillsbury, Clarice, was passing into history. An old phonograph was playing an even older LP stereo recording of Frank Sinatra. Since Clarice had been bed ridden in the last couple of months, it seemed that’s all she really wanted to listen to. As she lay quietly in the hospital bed that had been brought in to her bedroom, to provide her with as much comfort as possible as her condition deteriorated, her granddaughter Kylie Franck quietly wept as she realized that soon memories would be the only contact she would have with Grandma. Still, between labored breaths, Clarice assured Kylie she would always love her.

As the recording concluded, the phonograph needle lifted its self, to make way for the next record that would drop down to play.

The nurse quietly entered with Clarice’s medication. Placing it on the nightstand, the nurse gently touched Kylie’s shoulder. Kylie gave Clarice a gentle hug, and then allowed the nurse to lead her to the bedroom’s ante chamber. She would leave this quiet moment with her grandmother, to face a rather heated exchange between her parents. As usual, the heated exchange was about Clarice.

Kylie’s mother, Susan Franck, was maintaining a rather hostile stance toward her husband Sam. Susan’s mother was dying, and she was angered over her husband being stubborn about seeing Clarice for what undoubtedly be the last time. We’ll I think the decent thing to do is say good-bye! Susan stated firmly. Sam seemed to differ with his spouse about this; his attitude seemingly that marching down Martin Luther King Blvd. with a Confederate flag would be preferable to spending any more time with his mother-in-law. I don’t know. Sam muttered practically to himself, I’m not sure she even wants to see me."

Kylie suddenly became overcome with rage. Her grandmother was dying, and her father couldn’t even be bothered to say goodbye. You hate Grandma! she confronted her father. You always have! Unable to share the same space with someone she regarded as so unfeeling; Kylie fled the room in tears. For all her 22 years, Kylie had only known her grandmother to be a kindly woman, and she never understood why there had to be friction between the two of them. However, for her father to be continuing to carry on this feud as her grandmother lay on her deathbed, seemed beyond unreasonable to Kylie. For his part, Sam felt a sense of helplessness about the situation. He hated how this friction existing between Clarice and him had been going on for nearly three decades. Sam especially had never liked the hurt feelings this feud had caused to those people both Clarice and him loved the most. But as unattractive as spending any time with Clarice was to Sam, the icy stares he received from his wife were making it clear Sam may not have a real choice in the matter. Of course, Susan sniffed, it doesn’t matter that you’re breaking your daughter’s heart! That last statement was enough to put an end to any remaining inhibitions Sam may have had for a final goodbye. Of course Sam cared about his wife and daughter’s feelings, and at last decided he owed it to his family to enter the lair of the beast. Shuddering a little as his glaze from Clarice’s bedroom door, Sam then turned to his wife. I suppose saying good-bye would be the decent thing. Considering this a very patronizing statement from her husband, she found it impossible to look at her husband at that moment. Her jaws seemed to tighten, along with her fist, as she told her husband through a clenched jaw, Oh please don’t do anybody any favors! Unable to say anymore, Sam’s wife began sobbing quietly, as Sam began to wish there was a rabbi to accompany him on what he felt was a walk down the final mile.

Carefully studying the chamber he was entering, Sam observed how death seemed to permeate the atmosphere of Clarice’s boudoir. Wilted flowers on the window, dead singer crooning on the phonograph, and the centerpiece of the exhibit, dying socialite on her death bed. Hello Clarice. Sam said quietly.

With great effort, Clarice turned to Sam, and motioned him to come closer. He did so with great trepidation, only to find Clarice wanted him right at her bedside. As Sam did so, Clarice took the opportunity to firmly grasp him by the throat. If she was going, then she fully intended to take the bum with her. Finally she would be at last able to place an end to her son-in-law’s hated presence. Sam began to see his life flash before his eyes, as he fell to his knees and began to lose consciousness.

To Sam’s great relief, seemingly, as the recording concluded and the phonograph needle lifted its self off the old 79, so did Clarice’s grip. Sam