Haunted Read Free Page A

masses.
    Baffle them with some pseudo-scientific bullshit.
    Get an ‘educated’ skeptical opinion, and some local color.
    Add a bit of post-production CGI SFX to the mix.
    Blend and shove the crap down the viewer’s throats.
    They eat it up like sugar-coated candy.
    Or like a crack whore sucking a john’s cum for a ten-spot.
    Gulp! Gulp! Gulp!
    
    “Please, sir!? May I have some more?”
    Absolutely.
    Suckers.
    *****
    Every show, we have some smarty-pants come in and challenge our theories and evidence. It adds a spoonful of verisimilitude to what is otherwise visual pabulum.
    The scientists we quote are paid to spout bullshit; they are under non-disclosures so tight that if they squeal, their grandchildren’s assholes will pucker.
    Most of the time, they still end up with egg on their face. They are always astonished how we cut and edit their ‘serious’ explanations to put the onus on them for proof. You can always watch their jaws drop, and the inevitable “I didn’t say that! I do not mean that!” when they see the premiere of the show. It’s hilarious!
    But the really funny part is all the hate mail they end up getting from pissed-off ‘believers’. Just a bunch of trailer park losers who crave mystery and some meaning to their dull, mundane and ordinary lives.
    And that’s my specialty – I give hope to the hopeless, and the worker bees something to talk about around the office water cooler on Tuesday.
    Did you know our show actually rated better than every football game except the Super Bowl last year?
    I was surprised myself.
    But, also pleased as hell.
    I like to win.
    And, when I get in front of or behind the camera, I do just that.
    I whip these geeks to within an inch of their IQ.
    I love it.
    It reminds me of that bumper sticker:
    “My quarterback beat the hell out of your honor student.”
    Yes, sir.
    I certainly enjoy me a good geek ass-whooping.
    *****
    This time, my stepsister Kim is the ‘educated’ skeptic.
    And, why not?
    She’s gorgeous, smart and capable.
    She’s made a name for herself, with her video blog “The Wilder Thing”.
    Yeah, her last name is Wilder.
    I went back to my Mom’s maiden name, Cox, after Mr. Asshole beat me up.
    Fuck him.
    They say a man always is trying to be better than his father, and make him proud.
    I was better the day I was born than that fucker will ever be.
    My bio-mom once told me that she regretted giving me up to stay with that cockstain.
    But, she was young and foolish. And broke.
    It took me a while to find her and hear her side of what happened.
    It took me a lot longer to forgive her for leaving me at the mercy of that cheap fuck.
    I forgave him a long time ago, but I’m still working on forgiving myself…

Chapter 3
     
    In the offices of Argo Media, Harlan Calloway, the last remaining member of a once-proud family, stared out the window of the penthouse office. The President of Argo stood next to the Governor, and waited for him to make a decision.
    “So, then, we have an accord?” said the Governor, as he stuck out his hand to shake.
    The CEO of Loundstrad Timber Holdings was still for a moment.
    He did not rise from the patent-leather wingback chair. Instead, he merely glared at the offending limb, as if it were diseased.
    “Mr. Calloway doesn’t shake, Sir. You remember that?” whispered an aide to the Governor. The man looked embarrassed to have had to correct his superior.
    The Governor slowly lowered his arm to his side, then stuck his unwanted hand into an expensive, silk-lined pants pocket. He felt the key to the safety deposit box there and jostled it momentarily.
    “Good day, Mr. Calloway,” said the Governor.
    “Governor Snow,” said Calloway, as the man turned to leave.
    “Yes?” he paused. He was almost to the door, and wished to be done with this nasty business.
    “We have an accord. Don’t forget the rules,” said Calloway.
    The Governor frowned, briefly, then went through the door,