A Haunting Most Bogus

“Well friends, before we get dinner on the table I do want to let you know about a little, we’ll call it a conversation piece, about this house,” Amy said.

“Food!” Shouted the not-as-funny-as-he-thinks-he-is Matthew.

“Our house is haunted,” Amy’s frazzled husband Deck siad.  His cup of tea rattled in his hand.

“That sounds awesome!” Matthew’s much more amusing date, Ted, said.

“You’d think it would be.  You’d think it would be,” Deck said.

“Are we talking poltergeist type of haunting?” Asked another guest, Yuri, questioned.

“Oh no, is it a Casper thing?” Amaleah joked.

“Our ghost died in the 1990s,” Amy said.  Deck slammed his tea cup on the table.

“What does that mean?” Amaleah asked.

“Have you, in the year 2016, been woken up in the middle of the night by the sounds of Soul Asylum?” Amy asked.

“We’re more of a Seven Mary Three house,” Yuri laughed.

“We hear the phrase ‘my tomagatchi died again’ while eating breakfast,” Deck said.

“The night we moved in the hallways echoed with Pauly Shore movie quotes,” Amy said.  Her eyes were wide, like a deer staring at the headlights of an oncoming truck.

“One afternoon I came home from work early, stepped into the bathroom, there was an odd chill to the room, and a voice said, ‘check my taz tattoo.’ I screamed and ran next door.” Deck said.

The dinner party guests sat in a stunned silence, still unsure if the story was true or not.

“Have you talked to any body?” Ted asked.

“Every time we try to call someone, the ghost hangs up the phone and says, ‘I’m on the internet!” Amy said.

“We just don’t know what to do,” Deck said.  At some point he had opened, and consumed most of, a bottle of red wine.

A clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen rang through the house.

“Oh no,” Deck said, his eyes welling with tears.

“What was that?” Matthew said.

Amaleah and Yuri rose from their seats and stared at the door between the kitchen and dining room.

The door swung open and a long haired, flannel clad man in a fluffy Dallas Cowboys Starter Jacket stepped into the dining room.

“Dinner party? Far out! What are going to do about the Balkans situation? Want to talk about that?” Said the strange new face.

The dinner guests’ screams were heard from blocks away.  They trampled over one another as they fled from their first dinner party at Amy and Deck’s new house.

In the house remained Amy and Deck, relieved at the sudden absence.  They turned to the long haired, flannel clad man.  “Thanks, Parker, we prepped, like, no food for tonight,” Amy said.

“I totally forgot this was happening today,” Deck slurred his words.

“Moving is stressful.  Happy to help out though.  See you guys at next month’s book club?” Parker asked.

“Looking forward to it.  I’m only a few chapters in, but so far this Dave Berry book is really funny,” Amy said.

“Ha! This 90s stuff is great.  I’m thinking Dilbert books for April.  But that’s for another night.  See you later!” Parker removed his classic jacket, he did not want to be seen in the vintage garb, and left the house.

 

 

 

I think Amy and Deck need to work on being more direct in their communication this year.
Thanks for reading!

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