Irony in the Hollow

In honor of this spooky day, here is a story from a previous Halloween that still makes me giggle. Enjoy!

Learning to Whistle

So you know how it’s hard to describe irony without using an example? Well…I have a doozey! It’s so wonderful I could burst.

First, a little background. Hold your horses. Ha ha, horses. You will see why that’s funny in a minute.

I live in Sleepy Hollow. That’s right, the real Sleepy Hollow. As in Washington Irving’s The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, as in Ichabod Crane, Brom Bones, and a headless Hessian soldier roaming the woods by the cemetery at night looking for a head to replace his lost one. I like to freak people out by telling them I live two blocks from the graveyard, which is true. When people come to visit, I show them the Old Dutch Church, the bridge and other significant places from the legend. I tell them that my high school’s mascot was The Horseman—and we were the mighty, mighty Horsemen, might I…

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