My father told me this story from the long list of stories he would always tell us around Halloween. My grandmother was baking a cake and ran out of milk one night. She asked my dad (who was just a young boy at the time) to go in to town and buy some, so my dad asked my uncle Tex to go with him. At that time they did not have a car and would have to walk everywhere they went.
After they made it to the store and got the milk, they decided to sit on the bench at the bus stop to rest. As they were sitting, their bus pulled up and let some people off. An old man who was around seven foot tall, pail as a ghost, and skinny as a beanpole (as dad would put it) was the last one to get off. He was just standing there, with a glazed look in his eye.
My dad whispered to my uncle and said, “We had better get home before the milk goes bad.” They got up and started walking home. The strange tall ghostly man started walking behind them. He followed them out of town; dad thought to his self if he follows us to Wolf Creek, I am going to ask him if he is following us. Dad and Tex started up Wolf Creek, and so did the stranger.
Dad turned around and asked the stranger, “Buddy, if you don’t mind me asking, what is your name?” The stranger said in a grunting voice, “Sir Kripelroger”, Dad asked him where he was headed, but the stranger said nothing. So dad and Tex started walking, so did the ghostly old man. He followed them all the way home.
When they got to the house, dad knocked on the door and grandmother opened the door to let them in, the old man disappeared right before their eyes in a cloud of smoke. Dad and Tex ran in the house and told grandmother what had happened. Dad told us he would never forget the night he ran into Sir Kripelroger.
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