The Spirits of Route 66: Book of Delbert

The Rusty Pelican

And then in some intermittent moment that materialized spontaneously at some point in the multi-dimensional sphere of space-time, they all three agreed that they could use a quick getaway, a change in the scenery.

"I know just the place," Otto offered with a wink, and for once Reginald deferred and decided to just go along for the ride.

Then there they were, at the end of an abandoned pier, looking out at the big ships on the ocean whose lights blinked in the dark.

"This place is a little too depressing past midnight," Otto remembered, and then it was a July mid-afternoon in the not-so-distant future. "Now this is much better."

The Santa Monica Pier was bustling with all kinds of exposed skin, white turning pink soon blazing red and much later a peeling brown. Men were fishing, kids were laughing, and for a feller who had never ventured west of the continental divide, Delbert was absolutely enthralled.

"Allow yourself to soak it all in... the sun, the salty breeze, the California girls."

Delbert opened himself up – he consciously allowed his old senses to revitalize and at least attempt to function in some recognizable manner. But doing so made it more likely that his spirit might coalesce into some kind of physical manifestation. Unless he wanted to create an incident, caution was always advised.

"I've been here before, of course, to the greater Los Angelino area, but never quite made it to the pier," Reginald related in his usual too-good-for-this tenor. "My how the common folk seem to enjoy it."

Indeed, this was a place of human jollification, a chance to let go of drudgery and live in the sunshine moment. Maybe heaven will be like this, Delbert thought.

"Oh God, no!" Reginald roared. "I will require a little more elbow room, a little less cotton candy," but then he politely deferred once again as a gentleman is wont to do from time to time. "But I suppose this could be your sticky heaven," he conceded with a smile.

And this would be a nice heaven for sure, but Delbert could see himself getting burned out rather quickly. He had another idea of heaven in his mind. Another place, another time, and with different folks. Sitting in the familiar living room, with children, wife, and an easy pleasure... that is heaven.

"Looks like we got us some intruders!" came a cocky sneer from within the shadows of the Rusty Pelican Oyster House.

"Yep, hopefully they're just lost and need a little helpful reorientation."

Delbert saw four men staring right at them. Perhaps he had manifested, just enough to be revealed momentarily to the human eye.

But no, quickly he determined that they were merely of his own kind, duly ensnared within their own spirit world, and the truth is that ghosts can be as territorial as your typical neighborhood scared-y cats. Such encounters happen infrequently, as most employ a handy built-in ghost-dar and respect established boundaries. And as always, the universal law remained: Do unto others as you'd have done unto you.

"They're here to work on their tans," offered one of them.

"The one over there does look a little pallid, even for a ghost."

All four of them laughed and a dog on a leash passing by turned and whimpered and then scampered off, pulling its perplexed owner along the rickety boards.

"Why I never!" Reginald huffed as he puffed.

"Oh yes, you probably have."

"Why I never, ever!"

"Well then, maybe you didn't."

"Yeah, he probably didn't. Too bad."

The one Santa Monica Pier ghost who had not spoken as of yet chipped in.

"Calm down now fellas, let's give these boys a chance to speak."

He then eye-balled Otto up and down.

"Where you from, son?"

Although a little shaken, Otto felt compelled to respond.

"Well, I been to a lot of places so I 'spose I'm from a lot of places, seen a lot of towns, but when it all came to a head, I was wandering down the Mother Road back there in good ol' Oklahoma."

A couple of the locals scoffed and tittered.

"Oh really? So you're here to work the fields, pick the orchards, receive a little self-inflicted wrath?"

"If so, go on back, aint nothin' more pathetic that some raggedy-assed Okie ghost."

Delbert had finally heard enough. After all, he was Sooner born and Sooner bred, and now that he'd died, he was so Sooner dead.

"You referring to those long-ago days when a handful of hard workin' hearty folks decided to pick up and move on out to California increasing the average IQ of both states?"

All four of the newly-insulted had to think about that for more than a second. One of them who was fated to never quite grasp the jab's inherent mathematical meaning did what he always did at such times – he gave in to anger and made bold threats.

"Now them is fightin' words."

Ghost fight!

But then their level-headed leader stepped back in. He was not looking for any trouble. And besides, unbeknownst to his friends, his family originally hailed from a small agrarian burg somewhere south of Bartlesville.

"We don't mean no harm, you fellas enjoy yourself for a spell, see the sights, go scare somebody, preferably a spoiled movie star, but after you've had your fun... if you don't mind..."

Reginald was about to absolutely pop.

"Oh, spare me, don't you fret, we'll be long gone and soon enough, you can have your splintery dock with its bird poop and drunken piss-stained bums – sorry Otto – and if you ask me, my complexion is a well-kept satiny glow. You can all take your sunburned leathery noggins and shove them up your salty a-holes."

And with that – poof! – them Okie ghosts were long gone.