The Yggyssey by Daniel Pinkwater

is the parade. This is not held on some major thoroughfare, like Hollywood Boulevard or Vine Street. It's on Lafcadio Hearn Avenue, which is quiet, and fairly deserted after all the shops are closed.
    This is the one night of the year when there's an exception to the stay-in-one-haunting-place rule. The ghosts are out in force, and in a very playful mood. We'd seen all this before, and wouldn't have missed it for anything.
    Lafcadio Hearn Avenue is where you go for Oriental antiques, old and rare books, dried roots and herbs. The shops are in the front parlors of old houses that have been fitted with plate-glass display windows. They have little front yards and gardens—they're not up against the sidewalk. It looks more like an old village than a commercial street.
    Seamus and I had corned beef and cabbage at Neddie Wentworthstein's apartment before walking over to Lafcadio Hearn Avenue. Neddie's mother is a good cook. We had corn fritters too. On the way out, we found my father sitting in the lobby of the Hermione, tossing playing cards into an upturned hat.
    "Heading for the ghostly parade, daughter?" he asked.
    "Yep. Want to come with us?"
    "Been lots of times," my father said. "I'm waiting for a friend of mine from the old days, Fat Antelope. We're going to talk sign language. You have fun, children."
    "We will."
    "If you should get into conversation with any of the spirits, remember to ask about Prairie Dog."

CHAPTER 25

The Big Parade
    We got to Lafcadio Hearn Avenue just in time—it was just getting really dark. There was a pretty good crowd lining both sides of the street, waiting for the parade to begin. Everyone was quiet, whispering if they talked at all. One of the ways the ghostly Halloween parade is different from other parades is there isn't shouting and noise from the audience. And the ghosts in the parade are silent—there are bands that come marching along, playing their instruments, but silently. Even ghosts who typically moan, or scream, or make ghostly laughter in the course of their regular haunting are quiet in the parade. We found a good spot, right at the edge of the sidewalk, and craned our necks, looking down the street, waiting to see the first
ghosts in the parade. The streetlights went out. We saw a dull glow at the dark end of the street.
    "Here they come!" I whispered.
    "Shhh!"
    The glow got brighter, and closer. It was the ghosts, glowing ectoplasmically. Then we could make out figures. It was exciting. It was hard not to jump up and down, and we had to clap our hands over our mouths to keep from cheering.
    First, as always, was the color guard. It was those three guys you always see in reproductions of the painting
The Spirit of '76
by Archibald M. Willard. There is a kid in a three-cornered hat playing a drum, in the middle an old white-haired guy, also with a drum, and next to him a guy with a bandage on his head, playing a fife. It was just like the picture, only these were the actual guys. We couldn't hear them, but they were drumming and fifing. Just behind them was an American flag, only for the occasion there were little skulls instead of stars. The people on the sidelines took their hats off, or put their hand over their heart as the ghostly colors went by. Neddie and Seamus saluted—it's a school rule that they have to wear their uniforms at parades, and if you're in uniform you have to give a military salute.
    Next there was the guard of honor, a Confederate officer with his sword out, and six sharp-looking soldiers who had been killed in the Spanish-American War. Behind them
came the grand marshal and after him various dignitaries. Usually the grand marshal of the Hollywood Ghostly Halloween Parade is Harry Houdini, but he wasn't there—so we guessed he really had disappeared. In his place was another favorite of the crowd, former president Theodore Roosevelt. This explained why the honor guard was composed of Rough Riders. Teddy was mounted on a magnificent