The Cecilnomicon: Signs & Portents

In my perambulations about town, I see stuff. Like, lots of stuff. Most of the stuff I see is the stuff you expect to see like trees and streets and cars and black helicopters and things, but every so often I come across something I know I was meant to see and pass on to you. This is part of what makes Salem such a great community, neighbors helping neighbors, talking about what’s going on around town.

Except for the helicopters. Never talk about the helicopters.

Salem Harbor

The wreck of the ketch Vesper (sank 1827) re-surfaces, offers discount seafood, warnings

The damned souls that still crew the Vesper picked strange time to return to the Harbor docks. While the morning fog we’ve had this week obscured the vessel’s arrival, thus no doubt saving them on docking fees, the changes made to Salem Harbor since 1827 meant that the ship “docked” some three hundred feet from the lighthouse, making it a hassle to get out there to buy some fish. Luckily, I was able to borrow a rowboat from Uncle Merryweather and get out there before the cleansing rays of the sun boiled the shadeship away. In addition to getting a good deal on some cod that was so fresh it was still singing hymns in Latin, the Captain gave me a message to pass along to his descendants: “‘ware the Red Rose of Summer, m’child and fret on the culling of the morn.”

Charter Street Cemetery

The Corpsefilch returns

Ungh. This guy again. Every year it seems like he unfurls himself from the twisted trees by the old stones earlier and earlier. I tried to ask him about it, but he responded with one of his stupid riddles. Yeah, dude, the answer is “Man” and you’re far from being the Sphinx - she has much more class. Anyways, the rates for this season are as follows:

Standard Filching - Three brass buttons, two bones bound in linen, and a promise written on a vellum sheet.

Deluxe Filching - As above, plus a DVD copy of the third season (or later) of Mad Men.

As always, bring your corpses around to the eastern entrance by the light of the full moon.

Lappin Park

The Samantha statue cries tears of syrup and sings in a foreign tongue

The song, I think, was in French (something about “gens du pays c’est votre tour”?) but the syrup was definitely maple, so we can expect to see a good number of busses come down from the north. I’m sure our local tourist attractions will delight in this news after last year when Samantha opened the season by gibbering some mathematical equation that did not add up while bees, bees, bees flew from her metal lips.

Collins Cove

Amazing Pizza has yet to open

Twas ever thus.

Salem Common

Eight legged squirrel crowned King of the Woodlands

I’m not sure what to make of this one. I thought the squirrels of Salem were a constitutional republic, not a monarchy. I tried to ask an acquaintance about it, but Mr. Nuttbrown kept avoiding my questions, claiming that the position of King of the Woodlands was largely ceremonial and has always existed as part of the Republic. His tail flashed nervously and he kept glancing up towards the tree on the north side of the Common where King Skrittles has placed his palace. I admit it does look rather ominous what with the thick, ropey webs and all, but I’m sure with a bit more work it could be made quite nice. Perhaps remove all dead birds wrapped in silken strands and drained of their vital juices? I tried to follow up with Nuttbrown, but he had run off. More on this soon, I’m sure.

Corner of Central and Derby

Spilled container of frozen yogurt spells out lotto picks

If you recently attempted yourself with a sweet treat from Orange Leaf, but dropped your frozen yogurt before you could finish it please contact me immediately. The flavors of yogurt in the dish were as follows: Brownie Batter, Oreo, Chocolate, and Banana. Please be sure to include what toppings you added to your dessert so I know it’s yours. Your spilled yogurt spelled out a series of lottery numbers that could be used in either an upcoming Mega Millions or Powerball drawing. You have two weeks from the posting of this public service notice to claim the numbers. If you do, I promise to erase the numbers from my memory through judicious application of alcohol under the direct supervision of my physician/girlfriend Margery. If the numbers remain unclaimed, well, your loss is our gain.

That’s it for me for this edition of Signs & Portents! If you have any horrible revelations that could shake the foundations of man’s understanding of the universe, please feel free to add them in the comments section!