The teens will stop having sex and just look at you. The boy will be uncomfortable, but still
aroused. The mood will clearly have left
the girl completely. She’ll reach across
the bed to grab her shirt and slip into it in one fluid motion. The boy will pout in bed next to her,
frowning.
“Is there something we can do to help?” she’ll ask.
You’ll shake your spectral head as you continue to sob
uncontrollably. The tears will be very,
very real and very, very wet, so a puddle will be forming beneath you.
She’ll recoil a little before she asks: “Are you here to
murder us or hurt us or something?”
You’ll shake your head, sending little droplets of water all
around the room. One of them will land
on the girl’s skin. She’ll taste it,
then nod. It’ll taste like ghost
sadness.
The boy will sigh. “She’d
just lie if she was.”
“Nuh-uh,” the girl will say as she steps into her pants,
closing the door at long last. “Ghost
code.”
You’ll point at her and nod in assent. Ghost code does prevent you from lying about
wanting to murder teens while they’re sexing on one another. The boy will throw up his hands and carry his
clothes out of the room.
“I’m going back to the Escalade,” he’ll shout behind him.
“Why are you so sad?” the girl will ask, trying to lay her
hand on yours but instead passing through it, becoming coated with goo.
You’ll point to the wall and letters will appear in black
water:
SEINFELD ENDED.
She’ll bite her lip and nod.
“I think I can help.”
Then she’ll leave.
But two hours later she’ll return with a tiny, cheap TV and the complete
DVD box set of Seinfeld. You’ll stop
crying and clap your ghost hands in spectral joy.
THANKS! you’ll make the wall bleed.
She’ll smile.
“No problem. Have a
good eternity!”
You’ll wave goodbye to her and begin watching the Seinfeld
DVDs on an endless loop until your building is demolished in thirty years to
make way for some sorta future apartments that have robots or something in
them.
Congratulations Incessantly Weeping Ghost!
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