The cock-a-hoop ghost

One evening,

while driving down an old highway,

I picked up a mysterious hitchhiker.

I asked him where he was headed,

and in a deep voice,

he told me he was going to Memphis

to see his mama.


Now this hitchhiker was very polite,

always replying with a

“Yes, Sir”, or a “No, Ma’am”,

depending on the question or

how the lights of the passing cars

reflected off my eyes.


I asked him his name, and

he laughed softly to himself, and replied,

“Let’s just say it rhymes with Presley.

Then he gave gave me a wink.


I immediately began making guesses,






But the mysterious hitchhiker only

winked again

and asked me to stop making guesses.


He told me that life had taught him

a valuable lesson,

which he would reveal to me,

if I was willing to listen.


I said, no, but

he began to weave a tale, anyway,

which I will relate to you now:


The mysterious hitchhiker

told me that many years ago,

he had willingly given up the

august spot-light,

and the adulation of millions

for anonymity and adventure.

He traveled the world several times

and again, solving crimes,

and exploring mysteries,

like, living for forty days and

forty nights in

the Pacific Northwest wilderness,

searching for Bigfoot!


At the end of his journey,

with no sightings of the mythical beast,

the hitchhiker concluded,

that maybe Bigfoot was a thing

that could only be ‘found’

when searching within oneself.



when the hitchhiker returned home,

he found a note from Bigfoot

that read,

Just stopped by to say, Hello. But you were out.




But then, as an afterthought,

on the flip-side,

Bigfoot mentioned that he hoped

the hitchhiker was not hiding out


in the Pacific Northwest wilderness

just to avoid paying back

the $40 he owed him.


This, of course, was not true, for as,

the hitchhiker had previously noted,

it was he who had been looking for him!


 Unfortunately, for the hitchhiker,

Bigfoot, had taken the opportunity

to crash at the hitchhikers pad for

several weeks: eating all of his food,

breaking all of his chairs,

and doodling all over his

expensive personal stationary.


What was worse,


had run also off with his ‘old lady’.


This surprised the hitchhiker

the most of all,

because he had always thought

his old lady worshipped the ground

he walked on.

And, in a way, he was right,

as she would eventually leave Bigfoot,

and move in with

a piece of ground.





The hitchhiker grew sullen and he

turned his attention back to

looking out the car window.


As we passed though a small town,

the hitchhiker interrupted my whistling

and asked if I could let him out

near a Ralph’s supermarket.

“I need to pick up some-thing for my mama,” he said.


I obliged, and pulled into the Ralph’s ample parking lot,

but after I had parked the car,

I suddenly realized that I was all alone.

The mysterious hitchhiker was gone!


What could it all mean?” I asked myself.

Then I noticed something on

the passenger seat.

It was the hitchhikers,

Ralph’s value club card.

Had the hitchhiker been trying to teach me

a lesson about savings?

It was just all too much for me to process.



I went into the store,

used his Ralph’s value club card and

saved fifty cents on paper towels,

and box of microwave sushi.


“Savings.” I said confidently,

as I walked my discounted loot up

to the counter.


As I paid for my items,

the grocery checker looked at the name

on the receipt

and said, “Thank you, Mr. Nestlé!”

I nodded,

struck a rock n roll pose,

curled my lip

and said,



“Oh, all right,” said the checker.





Exactly ten years later to the day,

I was on the same road again,

and happened to stop at old highway diner

for breakfast.


There I overhead three truck drivers

talking about a

mysterious hitchhiker

they had all individually encountered.


“Trying to get home to his mama.” Said one.

“Disappeared into thin air” said the other.

“Looking for his Ralph’s value club card,”

said the third.