I'm sorry guys I was forced to publish this
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The woman was clearly in distress, worrying her lip and pulling at stands of her pale hair. I edged farther from her towards the wall, pretending to inspect it for some trace of paranormal activity and watched Watsby offer her a few comforting words before I decided the the charade had gone on far too long. If I had to sit through this any longer, I would surely throw myself at the mercy of whatever demon lay awaiting between the peeling walls and rotted floors. With an exaggerated sign I probed her "You know who we are, and why we're here, but I'm afraid we don't know what we're dealing with here." Our client looked startled, whether it be by my words or the fact I spoke at all, Watsby pressed on in a much politer voice. "Sheray.." She broke off exasperated before restarting, "How can we be of service ma'am?" I occupied myself with the photograph, singular, hanging haphazardly on the farthest wall. Before I could lose myself in the crinkled lines between the two chubby toddlers in the frame, the worried lady spoke. "T-there's a ghost... A spirit if you will. He...-" I cut her off with a single sentence, ruffling the ladies feathers further. She looked to be in a state of shock when I uttered "It's Dale huh?" I nearly spat when I screamed "aNOTHER PASTY CASE WATSBY! ANOTHER" Watsby, whom had shrunk over into a farther room, almost out of sight to the staircase, using her gangly legs to peer over it into an even farther room, disappeared completely from sight screaming "daMMIT THIS IS WHAT, THE THIRD TIME THIS WEEK?"
YOU ARE READING
Crack One Shot
Short StoryBasically an incredibly stupid story I wrote as a joke present to Ruby, based off of us calling pacman "pasty pacman" as an insult (which itself comes from another incident all together) and shoutout to my step cousin Dale who we mention as the ghos...
