So Joanne and I are standing in line outside a haunted house on Halloween. The front yard is all made up, with tombstones and spooky lighting and floating lamps. A casket lid slowly pushes back and a skeletonized hand reaches out and waves around before disappearing. A mausoleum wall pulses in and out with a rhythm, like breathing. Lighted eyes blink on and off from an over-hanging tree.

In front of us, a mother is holding her wide-eyed daughter who jerks with surprise when a low moan plays across the yard.

"What was that?" the woman asks her daughter. "What was that?"

"It was a tape, Mom," says the girl. "Sheesh."