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Boo! (Not Boo as in the Derogatory Was but the Scary Way Like Ghosts Say)

I wasn’t really supposed to be in the women’s locker room, I just ended up there somehow without even realizing it. It’s not like I was in a big hurry to get out of there though; restrictions and boundaries don’t really mean much to me anymore. I was able to scare some old ladies off when they tried to come in, but I didn’t enjoy myself as much as I would have liked. I hardly ever enjoy myself nowadays, though I am known to occasionally be in a good mood every now and then.
While I was getting less unhappy thinking about how not unhappy I tend to be, a ghost appeared in the middle of the locker room. Strangely enough, this particular spectre looked exactly like the man that I had killed earlier this morning. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have said this was the man that I had killed earlier this morning. I did not say that, however, because the man that I had killed earlier this morning was a man, and not a ghost. After a short series of thoughts ran through my mind, I came to the conclusion that this surely was not the man that I had killed earlier this morning, but the ghost of said man. My reaction to this discovery was not one of fear, for although most people would find the lost soul of a dead man wandering around terrifying, I myself am a ghost and have nothing to fear of my own kind.
The fact that I did not run away in terror only made the situation more awkward for me, lurking in the same room as the ghost of a man I had killed and all. I didn’t like the feeling I was getting in my metaphysical gut, and I wanted it to go away so I could continue lurking in the women’s locker room without worry. “Hello, I am sorry about killing you earlier this morning,” I suddenly said, even though I thought he had it coming. “Whatever,” he replied, “I had it coming anyway. At least you got it over with quickly and cleanly.” I was pretty proud of how cleanly I got the job done, and I was glad that he recognized my efforts. Now that the air had cleared between us, I was able to peacefully continue about the women’s locker room.
Only, I didn’t continue about the women’s locker room. Instead, I ended up just floating in the same spot for a moment, as ghosts tend to do. I suppose I was sort of interested in this new ghost whose acquaintance I just made. I had only met another ghost once before, but he was unfriendly and only liked to scare children, which I thought was a pretty cowardly thing for a ghost to do. Anyway, the name of the man that I killed earlier this morning was Ted, so I was going to break the ice and say “What’s up Ted” or something like that. But he was just looking around like it was his first time in a women’s locker room, which must have been really embarrassing for him. I was going to tease him for it, but decided not to. After all, it’s not uncommon for ghosts to get confused and overwhelmed, especially the newly-dead.
I ended up asking him why he came back. You know, all ghosts come back to the land of the living for a reason, even if they don’t want to. He gave me this long story about how when he was young he used to blah blah blah blah blah. He didn’t actually say “blah blah blah blah blah,” but he may as well have. Us ghosts like it short and simple; we never get caught up on the details, and emotions are sort of a rarity. That’s why everything is so bland and monotone all the time, which makes it hard to pay attention. Anyway, he apparently felt the need to go haunt this street corner in the suburbs. So, I decided to tag along because all the women in the locker room had been scared away and I had nothing better to do.
I could tell right away he wasn’t good at being a ghost, or, at least, he wasn’t used to being one. I had to walk him through the whole haunting process: spooking, creeping, lurking, making small objects move slightly and the such. About 50 people walked past that street corner without even noticing him, even though it was night, which is when most ghost sightings occur, so I’ve read. After many more attempts without success, I asked him if he wanted to get something to eat. “No, I’m not hungry,” he said. I told him that was because ghosts don't get hungry, nor do they eat. He found that fact quite interesting, and I was glad I could teach him a useful lesson.
At this point I considered us business partners, which is the ghost equivilent to really good friends. We rarely talked and had little in common, but being in each other's presence made our days slightly less unenjoyable, which is something most ghosts take for granted, I would assume. One day I asked him a question, and he actually knew the answer. That was the highlight of that day, and I even wrote about it in my diary, which is, you know,  completely normal and appropriate because ghosts have bad memories.
As I said, the thing about ghosts is that they’re spirits always stay behind in the living world for a reason, whether it be to get revenge, protect something, or take care of some unfinished business. My ghostly acquaintance –which, as it turns out, doesn’t mean much when describing a ghost– came to me one day with the realization of his purpose. He seemed convinced that his spirit would rest easy once he did what needed to be done. I must admit that I was ever so slightly envious, as I had never felt the need to accomplish anything since I became a phantom, so I decided to tag along and maybe gain some insight in the process.
Apparently, he had been in love with some woman his entire life, but had only recently mustered up the courage to confess his love to her. I thought that was really cliche and, frankly, quite insignificant, and I was going to let him know how stupid his purpose was. Then, he told me that the day he was finally going to confess his love, he wasn’t able to. Because he died. He was murdered. By me.
He needed a way to confess his love, even now that he was dead. I suggested leaving a love letter, but we concluded she probably would have seen it as a sick prank. Then, I suggested possessing her mom or dad and getting them to tell her, but he said that her parents were fat and gross and that he didn’t want to be in control of that kind of body. Finally, I suggested that he just appear in front of her and tell her directly, and he agreed that was the most logical course of action. The next day, our plan was put into motion.
The thing about ghosts coming back to fulfill their purposes is that if some guy royally screws it up, his soul is stuck on Earth for eternity. So, when this lifelong love of his was put in an asylum for spouting nonsense about some dead guy coming back to haunt her, I considered that a royal screw-up. I can’t believe he went through with it; I knew it was a bad idea. Unfortunately, what’s done could not be undone. I mean, what was he gonna do? Testify in court and tell the jury that she was, in fact, not insane and that he was, in fact, the spirit of a dead man? I don’t think so. Besides, things are better now that he’s here for eternity. I finally have someone to make my eternity slightly less unenjoyable.






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