THE GHOST OF MONTANA looks like a lady. There isn't a Gift Shop thru out the Great State of Montana that doesn't have a book with her in it. People and tourist the world over come to see her and never do. But the people who live and work at the historic hotel and hot springs know exactly where she's at, I'll take you too her tonight. When I was the chef there I had to walk right by her every night, I could look up the flight of stairs and there she sat, staring down at you like you just peeped in the window to Hell. A defiant look telling you to never, ever do that again..... and I didn't. I began staring at my feet and in a sudden hurry everywhere I went the entire time I lived and worked there, probably a year or two right after Nine Eleven I moved to Montana.
NEARLY every ghost story has a few common elements: Old hotels: Check. Old Confederate Hospitals: Check. Insane asylum: Check. Way out in the middle of nowhere: Check. This place had been everything, even the place wealthy crazy bastards go to die in luxury. That's why it's called Ghost City Central......
RICH PEOPLE eat very differently than you and me. Beef Wellington? Really? I made a half a dozen or so a night. Fine piece of filet Mignon wrapped in pie dough and baked for eighteen minutes or so. As the Chef of a Five Star Restaurant at an exclusive Hotel and Resort I got to walk around like I knew what I was doing. I didn't know nothing and didn't want to know nothing. Chef's come and go at these places like dishwasher's in the French Quarter so I walked around off duty with my chef's coat open with no undershirt and torn jeans and tried to keep track of all the new chic's in housekeeping... They too came and went like drunken sailors in the night. I thought I was in the Jack Nicholson's movie "The Shining," because of it's similarities and all I heard about was long and desolate the winters were..... Oh, and Ms. Montana at the top of the stairs to warm up the long cold nights...
Montana at the top of the stairs to warm up the long cold nights...
EVERYBODY KNEW I wasn't scared of no ghost. It was a major topic among idiots like me and there were plenty of us. Whenever the subject came up I'd alway's blurt out, "I ain't afraid no ghost! I'll kick a ghost lady square in her ass!" To let them know we all knew who we were talking about. I asked the owner's daughter one afternoon as we prepared for the night's service if she ever seen any ghost.
She looked at me like I was stupid. She said there's one right over there... pointing to the wine bar area.
"Don't you see him?"
She always had a shit eating grin on her face all the time so I didn't know if she was bullshtin me or what, but the longer I looked over there I began to see an old Charlie Chaplin looking little man standing there watching us like he was waiting on a bus. Fuck that, I ran into the kitchen area, she knew I was terrified of them. The same flophouse setting I lived in over the bandstand in the Annex, were seven or eight knocked out beautiful young blond girls from Austria or some small country the owners were from, and they literally brought in their own foreign workers to this place was so far out in the middle of nowhere, they had to go to Europe to find people to work there. The North Entrance to Yellowstone National Park is just down the road and they hire people from all over the world, too. Anyway, one night one of the finest of the bunch came and got me and explained to me in mutalted English that she knew I wasn't afraid of ghost and she was and needed me to chaperon her to the other side of the hotel for some reason or another. I lost my concentration staring at her tits and would have walked her back to town, twenty three miles away in a snowstorm if that's where she wanted to go...
To be continued.
3:05 PM 10/4/2015
http://theghostwranglersball.blogspot.com/2014/06/ghost-city-central.html
#MARKANTHONYGIVEN #GHOSTWRANGLERSBALL #GHOSTCITYCENTRAL
#GHOSTSTORYS #GHOST #HALLOWEEN THE GHOST WRANGLERS
Montana at the top of the stairs to warm up the long cold nights...
EVERYBODY KNEW I wasn't scared of no ghost. It was a major topic among idiots like me and there were plenty of us. Whenever the subject came up I'd alway's blurt out, "I ain't afraid no ghost! I'll kick a ghost lady square in her ass!" To let them know we all knew who we were talking about. I asked the owner's daughter one afternoon as we prepared for the night's service if she ever seen any ghost.
She looked at me like I was stupid. She said there's one right over there... pointing to the wine bar area.
"Don't you see him?"
She always had a shit eating grin on her face all the time so I didn't know if she was bullshtin me or what, but the longer I looked over there I began to see an old Charlie Chaplin looking little man standing there watching us like he was waiting on a bus. Fuck that, I ran into the kitchen area, she knew I was terrified of them. The same flophouse setting I lived in over the bandstand in the Annex, were seven or eight knocked out beautiful young blond girls from Austria or some small country the owners were from, and they literally brought in their own foreign workers to this place was so far out in the middle of nowhere, they had to go to Europe to find people to work there. The North Entrance to Yellowstone National Park is just down the road and they hire people from all over the world, too. Anyway, one night one of the finest of the bunch came and got me and explained to me in mutalted English that she knew I wasn't afraid of ghost and she was and needed me to chaperon her to the other side of the hotel for some reason or another. I lost my concentration staring at her tits and would have walked her back to town, twenty three miles away in a snowstorm if that's where she wanted to go...
To be continued.
3:05 PM 10/4/2015
http://theghostwranglersball.blogspot.com/2014/06/ghost-city-central.html
#MARKANTHONYGIVEN #GHOSTWRANGLERSBALL #GHOSTCITYCENTRAL
#GHOSTSTORYS #GHOST #HALLOWEEN THE GHOST WRANGLERS
