Juliet was in the market for a new bicycle. She had dreamed of riding a shiny red bike to work, one with a basket on the front and mud flaps to keep her dry. But all she saw in the sports stores were mountain bikes and racers built for men in minuscule pants. Bemused, she entered a second-hand shop hoping to spy something to make her afternoon worthwhile. Inside, Juliet let out a silent squeal of delight because there, way in the back, was a spoked wheel poking out from behind a bookcase. She made a beeline for the bike, but a wrinkled arm lurched out, landing on a bookshelf and blocking her way. It was the owner, who looked at least second-hand himself.
“You aren’t looking at that bike, are ya?”
“Well I was hoping to,” replied Juliet sweetly, “Is it for sale?”
“No!” said the owner. “The thing’s haunted! That’s right —haunted!”
This struck Juliet as rather odd, but no matter, she thought; she knew how to get what she wanted. After a few minutes of screeching ‘Bicycle’ by Queen the old man relented—and lying flat on the floor, pained by her harsh trills, he offered one last caution.
“Never r-ride it after dark.” His head fell back, resting in peace at last.
Juliet examined the bicycle and it was perfect. Except for a little rust under the seat it was her dream bike.
Juliet left the money on the counter and thanked the old man, but as she wheeled the bike over the threshold something strange happened; the brake handles pulled themselves closed and the bike lurched to a halt. Juliet shoved the bike but it would not budge, and, as if from the depths below, a deathly voice came from between two seams in the seat of the bicycle.
“Tut-tut, Julia. Not out riding after dark, are we? That’s right, I know who you are. I know everything about you Julia – I know I’m your dream bike. Well I hate to disappoint you, but this is going to more like a nightmare for you now.” The brake cables shot forward and wrapped themselves around her ankle, squeezing tight.
“Step off, Ghoul!” yelled Juliet. This was her dream bike. Damn if it was haunted, she thought; she knew how to get what she wanted. Juliet swung her free leg over the crossbar.
“No! What are you doing?!” cried the seat. Juliet landed hard, smothering it with her hefty rear end.
“Ah! Ahhh! I can’t breathe! Time out!” came the muffled cries of the seat. “I need oxygen! I’m a bike that needs oxygen!”
But Juliet just sat there, shifting herself from side to side until the screams became quiet. She pedalled off home, enjoying the sunset on the suffocated seat.
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