Ross Murray's Border Report
Ross Murray
is a freelance writer living in Stanstead, Quebec. You can reach him at
Posted 10.30.16
Stanstead, Quebec


Scarebnb: A Halloween Review

Yelp review of Jaundiced Entrails B&B, 666 Turnaround Lane, Danteville, PA
'One Star'Oct. 31/2016
Christina B.
Cavendish, PEI

OMG this place was literally a nightmare. If you have a choice between spending the night in an open grave filled with the corpses of murdered orphans or at Jaundiced Entrails B&B, well, I would say the B&B but only because it's closer to the airport.

We should have suspected something was up when we arrived at our check-in time. "Rustic," the guidebook said. More like "decomposing." And the neighborhood was appalling. On one side, an ancient Indian burial ground serving as a foreboding portal to the Dimension of the Dead; on the other side: Arby's.

Nevertheless, my husband and I are used to roughing it, so we walked up the steps that seemed to creak "Dooom, doooom, doooom…" and definitely needed a coat of paint.

I pressed the doorbell with my index finger, which was sporting a Sumerian-beetle scarab ring that had turned up mysteriously on my doorstep one morning tied to a mutilated crow –- so many stray cats on our street. Just thought I'd mention that.

Anyway, the "person" who answered the door was terribly rude. She would not even look us in the eye. Turned out later she had no eyes, but still. If you're going to run a B&B, you should at least have manners. And eyeballs.

Plus, she had this cackling, high-pitched voice. My husband asked a simple question about whether there was a code for the WIFI and she screeched, "ALL is ALL is ALL is COMINGGGG! Glaxnacht is NIGH!" I mean, who could remember a password that long! Write it down beside the coffee maker at least.

Oh, I know why: no coffee maker. Not even an electric kettle and a selection of herbal teas. Just a plain old altar with ritual instruments of slaughter that definitely hadn't been cleaned since the last guests. Was that a hair? Gross. Was that a severed ear? Double gross. Not exactly "sanitized for your protection." More like "sacrificed for your revulsion."

The poor service continued when we had to call for fresh towels after the bathtub started spewing black, sulphurous goo. Our host took, like, forever to crawl up the stairs. Literally crawl up the stairs, like a crab, with her head backwards. Like she was deliberately trying to be as slow as possible. Very passive-aggressive.

Speaking of "host," I thought I'd get on her good side after the towel nonsense and thank her for being such a "gracious" host. "No. YOU'RE the host!" she sneered. Then she invited us down to play Scrabble. OMG senile too! And the breath. Like something died inside her. Which would explain the maggots crawling out of her shirt sleeves.

"I am NOT cleaning those up," I told my husband, who was busy trying to get anything on the TV. But, no, nothing but static that sounded like the agonizing moans of the damned. And PBS. And it was another Peter, Paul and Mary special! Scary!

We flipped through the books on the shelf but nothing interesting: Book of the Dead; Book of the Dead 2: Dead by Breakfast; Book of the Dead III: The Deadening. Redundant much?

There wasn't much to do besides watch the blood dripping down the walls, and that got old pretty fast, so we decided to go to bed. And this is where what to now had been awkward got downright horrifying: polyester sheets! I turned to march downstairs to complain, and I swear, right then, our host materialized through the wall! No privacy whatsoever!

"I will not be caught dead sleeping on polyester," I said.

"Oh, you'll be caught," she laughed, and then, with a boom, the lights went out. OMG now a power outage. Luckily there was an otherworldly glow coming from the bathroom. So we coldly said goodnight to our host, who seemed to be having a spell, or maybe she was muttering a spell, I'm not sure, and we crawled into "bed."

What a night. If it wasn't the spectral figures lurking in the corners, it was the spiders crawling out of my husband's mouth (but at least it stopped his snoring LOL). The radiator also clanked. And I can't swear this for sure but I'm certain that a demonic presence descended on my body and reached into the pit of my very soul. Or there might have been a cat in the room.

All I know is that when I woke up, my ring was missing, our host was nowhere to be found and the spirits of the dead were walking the scorched, desolate earth. Just awful!

But one star because there were fresh blueberry muffins in the kitchen, and they were delicious.