“The kids loved it,” insists Principal
The controversial Amityville House Daycare Center is scheduled to be shuttered this week and Principal of the Center and owner of the legendary house is crying foul. “I knew I was sailing into uncharted seas when I thought of this idea two years ago,” says Peter Scribbling, “but I never thought it would get this crazy. I mean, at a certain point, we had a fist-fight between exorcists in the men’s room!”
Scribbling bought the house with the idea of turning it into a daycare center. “I was a grammar school teacher and I was left an inheritance. I was into daycare but I knew, were I to succeed, I’d need to find a few dozen wealthy parents to make the place a success. So, when the Amityville House came up for sale, I jumped. I thought if anything would draw today’s Yuccies, the up and comers with money, into dumping their kids into a daycare center it would have to involve a place that had decades of pop culture references.”
THE ECTOPLASMIC OOZE
The five-bedroom, 3.5 bathroom house was perfect for the staff, as well. “We were a family unit from the beginning,” says Scribbling. “We all lived in the house and shared the kitchen. And it worked pretty well. Oh, sure, there were the occasional levitations, unworldly screaming and ectoplasmic ooze, but the bathrooms worked great and the kitchen was to die for.”
Art teacher and flautist Gloria Seems remembers the opening of the school as if it were yesterday. “There were lines and lines of cool cars lining the block, the parents waiting for a spot to drop off their kids. We had already erected a big playground area outside so the kids were mesmerized instantly. All six of us staffers were outside to greet the kids. The parents drove off, feeling hip.”
ANGUISHED GHOSTS VS. INNOCENT KIDS
When all 30 of the students were in the play yard, the true nature of Amityville House reared its head.
Says singer/musician Chaz Delente, “I’m the guy who plays the songs and nursery rhymes the kids sing along to. I had about ten kids in front of me and I’m singing ‘Row, Row, Row Your Boat’ and half of the kids began to levitate. I mean, it was like watching drooling drones. Since the other kids weren’t floating, I kept on playing. But when one kid vomited green crap and yelled ‘Your mother sucks cocks in Hell,’ I knew I had to switch to another song.”
“The kids loved it,” says Principal Scribbling. “That first day was really a battle of the wills: anguished ghosts vs. innocent kids. The kids won. When black ooze covered the sliding pond? The kids cheered and, then, slid down the slide, thinking that they’d been ‘slimed.’ When the air seemed to scream? The kids screamed back. Walls pushing outward inside the house? The kids pushed back. They called it ‘the balloonie wall.’ Day-glow-eyed ghost? The kids made their eyes wide and chased it. They had the time of their lives. I think the ghosts had fun, too.”
Following the first day, the haints of the house seemed to get along with the kids. Says Scribbling: “The kids would yell ‘I want to fly!’ and the ghosts would levitate them. Ghostly voices joined in the sing-a-longs. And crayons drew, during art classes, empowered by invisible hands. I couldn’t believe it. I think this is what my father felt at Woodstock, only without the acid and the fecal matter.”
ENTER THE EXORCISTS
Apparently, after one child returned home half-covered with ectoplasmic ooze, the parents began to scrutinize the daycare center. “It was an eye-opener to see how fast the parents turned against us,” says music-maker Chaz. “Where the kids loved to levitate and get pushed in the swings by invisible hands, the parents were against it.”
Continues Chaz, “About fifteen of them hired exorcists of just about every type. They just descended upon us. They freaked out the kids. That didn’t last long. Within minutes the exorcists were flying through the air like careening crows. Afterwards, we installed barbed-wire outside the house, just to keep the exorcists out.”
Adds nurse Madam Betvovickinksi, “We were doomed because of the parents. What child wouldn’t want to fart fire? The parents refused to see and accept this. A few of them actually went after my goat.”
Finally, Principal Scribbling pulled the plug. “It just wasn’t worth it. The parents agreed not to sue us. The kids were all heart-broken. So were the ghosts.”
Now, Scribbling and his staff sit on the front lawn, their last night in the house. Outside, the swings are swinging, a floating guitar plays with invisible hands, ghostly voices sing “Teddy Bear’s Picnic” and the teeter-totter bobs up and down.
“I’m not worried about us,” he says. “We’ve all made book and movie deals that will more than pay for the time and resources put into Amityville House. It’s the ghosts I worry about.
“I’m fighting for them, though. Farmingdale State College has four frats. I’ve contacted all of them about renting an off-campus frat house. They’ve all expressed interest. If all goes well, our ghosts will be able to be the stars of the next weekend kegger”
He chuckles. “I just wouldn’t want to be around for hazing.”