Haunted House Has A Bunch Of Creeps

The haunted house business is no place for the squeamish.

It’s not all just yelling “Boo!” It takes management savvy, too.

Ask the neighborhood nasties and they’ll tell you it’s hard work. It’s sweaty on the other side of that latex mask.

Spending some time at the Tunnel of Screams in the University City Shopping Center would convince anybody. The Special Olympics fundraiser was up and screaming last weekend, and the crack staff of creeps was doing its best to keep patrons frightened.

Sometimes it worked. One kid got so scared, the terrified tyke ran right into a mirror and cracked it. Other times, kids just smarted off. One 5-year-old girl went through the entire maze shouting, “You don’t scare me!”

She wasn’t even wearing garlic. Where’s the respect?

It’s all part of the ghoulish game, said Bryan Gilbreath, who was directing the house that night. He said to fight such fearlessness, at least a dozen creepy creatures clock in at once. “The more monsters, the scarier,” he said.

Gremlins of a mechanical sort reared their heads earlier - the fog machine broke. Still, you can’t keep good ghosts down. Business started to pick up, and Gilbreath performed some quick teeth tightening.

He offered this advice: “Fangs and gum don’t mix.”

As three kids prepared to enter the store-space-turned maze, Gilbreath gave them a speech: “No hitting, biting, scratching, tearing walls apart or stealing,” he said.

David Timmermans, 9, started to have second thoughts. “Are they just people?” he asked.

The kids crawled through a small tunnel, as a skeleton-faced guy banged on the wall. They inched through a shiny, black garbage-baglined maze, while junior-high-age monsters jumped out at every corner. Strobe lights flashed. The toxic waste room glowed. A giant spider clung to a wall, and another wall came alive.

In between visits, brief intermissions gave the terrors time to collect themselves. “This wall is falling apart,” someone yelled. “My throat hurts from screaming,” said another.

“C’mon, we’ve got to get to work,” said Sarah VanDinter, 14. Nine-yearold Michael Banning, covered with skull-face makeup, snapped to attention and followed her.

A family approached the ticket counter. Milt Monroy and his two kids, Anthony, 9, and Amanda, 8, were veterans of the haunted house circuit. Dad asked the two bravehearts if they were up for another tour - reminding Anthony that at the last one, he started crying.

“Yeah, right,” Anthony replied, grinning bashfully.

A ghoul dressed in a pretty non-threatening Tasmanian devil T-shirt offered to walk them through. Nonetheless, the kids wouldn’t have it. Amanda started crying. “I’m not going in,” she said. Dad went through on his own.

“I want some brains! I want brains ‘cause I don’t have any!” the skeleton guy in the tunnel yelled.

“You said it, not me,” quipped another monster.

Dad came out and told the kids it wasn’t so bad.

The family left but returned just a few minutes later. This time, they all went in. “Here comes some more VICTIMS!” Gilbreath yelled.

After the tour, Milt emerged with Amanda clinging to him like a frightened wallaby. Anthony, though, was a rock.

After they left, skull-face Michael ran out.

“I scared that little girl to death!” he chirped.

Gilbreath smiled. Ah, success. Then came the woes of management again.

“Liz wants to stop being radiation,” asked Brady Beaver, 15. “Can we switch?”

, DataTimes MEMO: Valley Snapshots is a weekly feature that profiles gatherings and events around the Spokane Valley.