Meet the “shock” prankster who drives Everett’s skeleton truck


EVERETT — If you live in town, you’ve probably seen the truck.

This blazing red Chevy pickup, filled with life-size skeletons and slaughtered clowns.

Maybe you saw it parked at the IHOP on Broadway. Maybe you spotted it literally on fire, around Christmas time. Or maybe, stuck in traffic, you saw one of those plastic skeletons peeing on the car next to it.

Do not worry. It was just Mountain Dew under pressure.

Glenn Griswold, 43, is the man behind the antics. The local cooks pancakes by day and tinkers with his mobile hell at night.

It started last Halloween, but it’s now a year-round gig.

When asked why he started all this, Griswold shrugged and leaned against a skeleton pup strapped to his mount.

“Shock value, perhaps?” he said. “I get bored really, really easily.”

The creepy vibes aren’t contained within its drummer. At home, the walls of Griswold are covered with bones and gargoyles. A blood-red room features ceiling mirrors and a mural of a cross flanked by skulls.

Griswold wears a biker jacket and a purple eyebrow piercing. The truck is his main means of transportation. On the road, people hand him religious pamphlets.

“I look at them every time and go, ‘I look like I need saving, huh? ‘” Griswold said with a smile. “And they say, ‘Well, a little. “”

Griswold changes things every month. Around Valentine’s Day, a skeleton proposes to its lover. Instead of a ring, the dead man offered a severed clown’s head.

Everett’s Glenn Griswold says he’ll add “anything with skeletons and skulls” to his truck. (Kevin Clark / The Herald)

Drivers take photos and videos. Customers ask him about eggs and bacon.

“People like to put their kids in the back to take pictures,” Griswold said. “I love this part.”

He gets most of his accessories in downtown Goodwill, where employees keep an eye out for hair-raising merchandise.

“We know his tastes,” said employee Nicole Alverado, who recently reserved two lighted gargoyles for the truck. “He’s definitely one of our regular customers.”

The thrift store gave Griswold a Christmas card this year.

Apart from a few petty thefts in the truck, everything was sunny and rainbow.

Glenn Griswold stands by his truck decorated with skeletons in Everett on Tuesday.  (Kevin Clark / The Herald)

Glenn Griswold stands by his truck decorated with skeletons in Everett on Tuesday. (Kevin Clark / The Herald)

Except for the “Christmas fire incident”.

At the request of a young stranger, Griswold was shooting a TikTok video with the truck when a flaming tiki torch fell between two posing skeletons.

A passing fire truck helped put out the flames. But on the way back, the bed came back on.

That was at the truck’s maximum “shock value,” Griswold said. But ironically, few people seemed to notice when he pulled up in front of the local funeral home.

Or when he jumped up and threw a flaming skeleton down the street.

Or when he accidentally caught fire and used a small piece of grass to stop, fall and roll.

Or when he frantically climbed back into the burning truck and drove it home to find a fire extinguisher.

“I just jump into this fireball and head home,” Griswold recalled.

Finally, he recalled, a cop pulled over and said, “I bet you probably know something about that burning skeleton in the middle of the road near the funeral home.”

Everett's Glenn Griswold decorated his truck with a skeleton design last Halloween.  (Kevin Clark / The Herald)

Everett’s Glenn Griswold decorated his truck with a skeleton design last Halloween. (Kevin Clark / The Herald)

Tiki torches are no longer part of the diorama. And the near-disaster did not deter him.

The truck is fun and harmless, just like his other pranks. He salts people’s Peeps around Easter, for example. And sometimes he tricks Wendy’s employees into thinking he’s the undertaker. It’s a more complicated stunt. It requires a trip to Oregon, his sister’s hearse, and a machine—of dubious origin—that electrifies his body. At the counter of the drive, he wears a black suit and a dark look.

“When they hand you your change, you shoot a lightning bolt from your hand,” Griswold said. “It’s awesome.”

One last point that Griswold would like to clarify: this is not a pirate theme.

Of course, he should technically be wearing an eye patch. Griswold lost sight in his left eye after an accident last year. He has headaches without the patch. But he gave it up when people started assuming his boat was a street-legal pirate ship.

“Every time I got out of the truck someone was doing some fucking pirate joke,” he said. “There’s not a single pirate in this whole truck.”

A kid from IHOP made him feel sorry for the patch, and Griswold decided to pull his leg. He showed the kid a fake eyeball.

“I said, ‘You know how you lose a tooth and put it under your pillow? And the tooth fairy gives you five bucks? »

Griswold handed over the fake voyeur.

“I don’t know who’s gonna show up or what they’re gonna get you,” he said, “but I’ll share this with you if you put this under your pillow.”

Telling the story, Griswold laughed in Goodwill’s parking lot and passers-by stared at the truck. A friend, Raven Echo Port, approached.

“Hey, I came across one of these skeletons,” she said. It was a few weeks earlier. “I was pretty sure it was yours, so I put it on your car.”

It wasn’t Griswold’s. But he will take it.

“Anything with skeletons, skulls,” he said. “I will add it.”

Claudia Yaw: 425-339-3449; [email protected] Twitter: @yawclaudia.



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