Ghost One Shots

Summoning With Zardoz

It's been a long day, and I've been looking forward to this. I open the bag of sticky green nuggets and inhale their verdant aroma. Smells like Christmas morning. My guy was right, this was going to be some good shit.

Without thinking about it, I pick my largest bowl, a magnificent blown glass piece in swirling hues of purple, black and gold. When I saw it in the head shop, I had to have it, it reminded me of my beloved spooky frontman, Papa Emeritus. I even named it after him

I pack Papa Junior carefully, crumbling nuggets with my fingers. I've never used grinders.

Alright. I've got my bowl, I've got my lighter. Ready to go, except for one thing. I open my music player, do a little searching, and soon the eerie opening notes to "Spirit" fill the room. Ah yes. Here we go.

I light up, and take my first hit. I draw the glorious smoke into my lungs; it tastes like heaven. Nothing tastes better than the first hit of a freshly packed bowl. After a moment where my chest burns, and my head swims, I exhale a cloud like the very breath of God.

It's not long until I feel the herb take effect, like my body is giving one big sigh of relief.

So I sit, and I listen to Ghost, letting my mind wander and my body get rocked by waves of euphoria. Eventually, I start to reminisce about the Ritual I attended in the spring. I can't believe I actually saw Ghost. Maybe I didn't get to meet them, but I still SAW them. Papa, Alpha and Omega...they were all only a few feet away from me Papa even made eye contact with me....I saw them, they're real...

I am now lost in a reverie of feelings I can scarcely describe. Love and long are perhaps the closest words I can come to.

I want to see them again. No, I need to see them again. This is worse than being in love. I wish I could just summon them, right here, right now, as if they were actual supernatural beings, and not just a bunch of Swedes in costume.

The, my baked little brain comes up with a rather absurd idea. It whispers to me: 'Well why the fuck not? Just do it. And you know what would be funny? Using your weed to summon them. I mean, that would summon just about anyone. Draw you a little pentagram, take a hit of your bowl. Make a wish, exhale. Just for shits and giggles. Then we can have pizza rolls.'.

I take my pen, and draw a pentagram on an old Walmart receipt. Then I hit my bowl again. As the smoke sits in my lungs, and my eyes roll up into my head, I make my wish. Bring Ghost to me. Bring them to me now. Then, exhale.

Nothing. OK. Time for pizza rolls. I get up and shuffle into the kitchen. Grab the bag from the freezer, turn on the oven. They're better when you heat them up that way, crispier crust, melty cheese. Nom nom nom..

Timer set, ad rolls toasting like little sunbathers, I saunter back into the living room, only to find Papa Emeritus and all five Nameless Ghouls, fully robed and masked, waiting for me. Shit. Holy fucking shit. It worked. I actually summoned them. Maybe they're actually supernatural denizens of Hell, spreading the unholy word of Satan, not just a bunch of guys in costume.

I stare at them for a long time, trying to process what I'm seeing. Finally, it's Papa who breaks the silence.

"What is your desire, my dear?"

At first, I can only make raptor-like squawks of disbelief.  Then finally I mutter:

"I...how...did you..."

I'm tripping balls. That must be it. This weed is laced, and I am hallucinating. Slowly, I reach out and touch Papa's chest. Solid, warm. The gold of the inverted crosses are scratchy under my fingers.

"You summoned us, Miss" He says calmly.

"What is it you desire?"

I look around at the Ghouls, their eyes twinkling mischievously through the holes of their masks. What do I desire? Well, a lot of things, actually. Sex, pizza rolls, world domination. But mostly, I just want to sit down with these guys and sort everything out. But how?

Then I notice my bowl, sitting on the arm of the couch. I walk over to it, pick it up, and hold it out as an offering.

"You guys wanna get high?" I ask.

The Ghouls all look to Papa. Papa looks at me. Then at my bowl. He smiles.

"As you wish," he says.