There is a ghost living in my apartment complex. He is medium build, has icy blue eyes and skin, he does not wear a shirt, and he is alive. Very odd for a ghost. He haunts the trash cans. I came down to throw out my trash (some leftovers gone bad and an Allman Brothers album) and I saw his grotesque body. A transcript of our exchange is below (there happened to be a court reporter there):
Ghost: Hey, you.
Ghost: Of course you, there is none one else around
Me: Oh, well I thought you might be talking to the rats. I know I do. I'm a little lonely. Do you want to be friends?
Ghost: What? No. I'm sick of you throwing your junk out and then not closing the lids. That's why there are so many rats here.
Me: That's also probably why there are raccoons.
|He's just like Caspar! He even had a rotting pizza in his hands!|
Ghost: Okay fine.
Me: There was a possum last week. He was such a good listener.
Ghost: Look, I don't know or care what kind of mental problems you have but you have to close those lids.
Me: But what about my friends, the rodents? Well, the possum is a little more than a friend. At least I think so. Do you think he likes me, you know in that way?
Ghost: How the hell am I suppose to know?
Me: Well, since you haunt these garbage cans anyway, maybe you can wait until he shows up and then tell me afterward what he said. I think he likes me because he is so nervous around me that he doesn't talk!
Ghost: I have to go.
He is a friendly ghost, like Caspar. I'm so glad that I FINALLY have someone to talk to about my relationships with possums. Well, now there's only one possum for me.