Dead Men Scare Me Stupid Read Free Page B

Fred.
    Despite my fear
of the supernatural, I was starting to get a little annoyed by these two
ghosts.
    “Piss off.”
    “Won’t.”
    I don’t like it
when people won’t do what I say. It happens to me a lot, so I tend to get
madder about it than most people do. “Look,” I said, “I’ll give you two birds
just five minutes to get out of here.”
    After a couple of
minutes, I regretted giving them so much time. We were all sitting there
looking at our watches. This continued through the full five minutes, and well
into the three minute grace period. Finally I lost my patience and tried to
pick them up by the scruff of the neck and give them the bum’s rush out of my
office. But I couldn’t get a good grip on them. It was like trying to throw a
couple of bad smells out of your office. You can’t do it. After several
attempts to throw them out had failed, I lost my temper and took a swing at
them.
    It was like
punching nothing at all. No, I take that back. It was like punching my lamp,
because my fist went right through them and pulverized a nearby floor lamp. My
next punch knocked the couch over. At that point I started swinging wildly, but
only managed to destroy all the awards I had ever won, and knock my stamp
collection to bits.
    I tried kicking
them in the ass, but only succeeded in kicking myself in the face. Fourteen
times.
    Then I pulled out
my gun and shot my office to pieces.
    Far from being
frightened or angry by this display of violence towards them, the two ghosts
seemed to enjoy it, even encourage it. They kept popping up in different parts
of the room like shooting gallery targets, as I blazed away, cursing. None of
my shots hit their mark, but the bullets did manage to destroy whatever
valuable thing was directly behind the ghosts. After ten minutes I didn’t have
a window or a cherished memento left, and three people who came to complain
about the noise were being rushed to the emergency room, complaining about the
blood.
    Finally I stopped
shooting. I hadn’t calmed down. I was just out of ammo. I threw my empty gun at
them, knocking out my last remaining window.
    “Nice shooting,”
said Ed. “You almost got me there a couple of times.”
    Fred surveyed the
damage to the office. “The first thing we should do to help you get your life
back on track is to spruce up this office. You’ll never impress clients with an
office that looks like this. C’mon, Ed, let’s get to work on our good deed.”
    “Oh boy!”
    They both faded
away. I didn’t try to stop them.
    As soon as I was
sure they were gone, I picked up the phone and called the cops.
    “There’s two
ghosts bugging me,” I told the desk sergeant. “Get over here quick.” Then I
gave him my address and tips on the quickest way to get to my office at this
time of day. “Better use your siren,” I advised. “And you might want to fire
your guns in the air as you drive. That will make people get out of your way
quicker.”
    “Ghosts, eh? What
exactly do you want us to do about these ghosts, Mr. Burly?”
    “I want you to
get rid of them for me, obviously,” I said. “I want you to serve and protect.
Haven’t you read the side of your car lately?”
    “The thing is,
we’re a little busy down here at your local police station right now, Mr. Burly,”
he said, politely. “We have a lot of real crimes to deal with, and
unfortunately that means we have less time than we would like to deal with
screwballs.”
    “Well, crap…”
    “Tell you what,
why don’t you come down and file a report – better yet, why not mail us your
report? That way the ghosts can help you fill it out. You could even include
one of the ghosts in the envelope as evidence, if you like. And the other ghost
could be the stamp. Say! That would get rid of your ghost problem, wouldn’t
it?”
    I was beginning
to lose patience with this polite, but less than helpful, underling. “Get me
your Ghostbusters Unit,” I demanded.
    “We have no
Ghostbusters