Custard pie in the oubliette

Last Sunday, I was reading in the front room, and everything was quiet. And then I heard a horn--a cartoon squeak--that seemed to be coming from the basement, directly below me. And then silence. And then the noise again. And then nothing.

A little later, The Boy came over, and while we were talking, I heard a bell ring.

"Did you hear that?" I asked.

"Yeah," said The Boy. "Sounded like a bicycle bell."

"Or a clown bell," I said. "I heard something earlier that sounded like a clown horn. I think it's downstairs."

The Boy looked at me. "Are you saying you think there's a clown trapped in the basement?"

"Maybe there's a serial killer keeping them down there."

He stared at me, wide-eyed. "You know what that means. It puts the seltzer in the pants."

And while we're joking about serial killers, here's a lovely little music video by The Greenskeepers called "It Puts the Lotion in the Basket". Sing along!