Satan's Dollar Store & other stories

The Ghost with the Really Big Ones

This is a true story. I swear it on my grandmother's tomb. At least I think it's true, and I would swear it on my grandmother's tomb if I had any idea where it was, or even if she has one. We never talked much, granny and me. I'll take the blame for that. After all, when she died I was only two months old and not able to add much to any conversation, let alone a chat with a ninety-eight year old lady. Then no one ever told me much about her, like where she was buried or maybe she was cremated and they sprinkled her ashes somewhere special. All I ever had of granny was an old photograph of when she was young. She was a pretty girl.. A very pretty girl. The kind of girl who never has a chance to be anything else than that very pretty girl everybody was always saying she was, the same kind of girl this story is about.

This girl's name was Gloria Gatusso and she died when she was only seventeen. Hit by a car, just like that. One day she was walking down the street, minding her own business, attracting all the usual attention she drew whenever she went anywhere or did anything. The next thing you know, this red pickup truck came careening across the lanes, right up on to the sidewalk, smashing her into the big glass window of Sam's Coffee Shop. She died instantly, everybody said. Never felt a thing. And it was a damn shame, they all agreed, because she was such a pretty girl, a very pretty girl with really big boobs. Oh, and such a nice girl too. Everybody liked her. Everyone. She always had a smile and a kind word on her lips and it was said she was the same girl at seventeen as she'd been at seven, as she'd been at two months old – the most beautiful and the sweetest baby ever born. You could never get too far into a conversation about Gloria without her beauty taking over. It was her shadow and reflection, and it followed her everywhere, even after her death.

It was only a few weeks after "the accident" that the first reports began to circulate. She'd been seen. She was still there. At Sam's Coffee Shop, in the window, and she was gorgeous and smiling and happy. The young man who first reported this vision had never known Gloria in life, or even heard of her. He'd been walking down the street when he saw this apparition and, startled, stopped and stood gaping at her. She was looking right at him and he turned around to see if there was someone else behind him she might have been looking at, but there wasn't. He turned around again, and she was gone. Curious, he went inside and asked about the girl he'd just seen in the window. Sam, the crusty and greasy old bastard who ran the place, shook his head and grumbled he didn't know what the guy was talking about. There was no pretty girl, no girl at all in the window, or in the diner itself for that matter. There were only a few old drunks nursing lukewarm coffees and stale breakfast rolls. The young man described the girl in great detail, not neglecting to mention her rather large breasts, of course, as well as her mane of very blond hair, those big blue eyes and bright red lips, the light blue sun dress that clung very nicely to her body and the white leather pumps on her feet.

"Sounds like the girl that got crushed", one of the drunks at the counter piped up.

"She had big tits too", another one added.

"Aw, shut up," Sam groused. He hated to be reminded of that as he still hadn't collected any insurance money and was out a couple grand from his own pocket for the window replacement.

The other drunk was the late Gloria's father and he didn't take kindly to those comments. He stood up and mumbled something or other before crashing to the floor.

"Go on," Sam waved at the young man, "Get the hell out of here and don't even say anything about this. Last thing I need is a stupid fucking ghost story. As if business isn't bad enough already."

The young man left, but didn't honor Sam's wishes. Instead, he went straight to that small town's local newspaper office and asked to speak to someone about an accident involving a young woman and that coffee shop. I was that someone he spoke to.