Ghost Dick: Private Eye

Ghost Duck

Special Thanks:
Jen and Ian. True patrons of the arts. And also crap like this.

When the dame walked into my office, the first thing I noticed was her legs went all the way up to the top of where legs go. Which is good. I'd just had a thing with a woman with a bionic leg. And the thing we had was that I spilled soda on her bionic leg, and then her bionic leg stopped working and she used her regular leg to kick the shit out of me.

The second thing I noticed about the dame in my office was that her legs also went all the way down to the floor. Another good sign. I had a thing with that lady who invented hover shoes. That didn't work out either because I kept "accidentally" getting us into situations that required her to hover us across a lake or a swamp or some water on her hover shoes while I rode piggyback. You can only get away with that so many times with the inventor of hover shoes before she realizes you're using her for her hover shoes. And that amount of times is three, so enjoy them.

Something that's weird about me, normally-smart women, like ones who invent hover things, seem to come my way every so often.

Something that's not weird about me is that I'm a paranormal investigator. Which is a fancy way to say ghost detective.

Wait, I guess that's weird too.

Okay, the not weird thing is, this dame came in and there was nothing unusual about her legs.

So this dame with the regular kind of legs came into my office, which is a table at Burger King. I picked this particular Burger King for my office because two reasons:

1. More than once I've seen someone passed out in the bushes outside, and when that's going on, someone who is quietly using a table as a ghost detecting office doesn't really make the list of priorities.

2. They have free wifi. I don't own a computer, so that doesn't really matter to me, but if I ever did get a computer I wouldn't want to relocate. It's always good to plan for business growth.

3. They have chicken rods. I know I said it was only two reasons, but the chicken rods are meaningful to me. Just as a note, Burger King DOES NOT like when you call them chicken "rods."

The dame sat down, and I swallowed hard. It was time to look at her face or her torso or some part of her besides her legs. Hopefully none of her other parts was hovering or mechanical or anything else.

I should also mention, part of what made it so hard to tear my eyes away from her legs was because she didn't have any pants on. I probably should have said that earlier. I'm a pretty good investigator, but the part I'm worst at is when the investigation is over and you have to tell everything that happened. That part I suck at. Which is ALL this book is, so buckle up because you're in for a confusing ride with a drunk driver.

And also buckle up because if you're reading this in a car, you should definitely use a seatbelt. You're almost certainly going to crash if you read and drive.

I looked at the rest of the woman who sat in the chair across from me, and it wasn't just her legs that went all the way up. Her eyelashes went all the way up to her eyes, her arms went all the way up to her torso. Everything about her began and ended at the spot where it was supposed to.

I was pretty sure I was in love.

She said, "Are you the guy?"

I said, "The guy?"

She said, "The investigator. The—" and she leaned in closer, "ghost investigator."

I said, "That's me. Did you know you're not wearing any pants?"