How to die laughing
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- Parts 18
Hi, I'm Fitz Johansen, you've probably heard about me, I'm one of the class comedians, the guy who stands up to bullies, the guy who plays pranks on teachers, nasty pranks. Anyway, my best buds and I find this weird spellbook with dry jokes in it, pretty weird, but it gets even weirder the jokes are killers, literally. They make you laugh like crazy then your skin becomes dry and then you age like crazy till your nothing but a dry bag of bones. We try to hide it but it keeps coming back and there's this weird clown that wants it, he'll kill for it, even us.
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clowns
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'Idiot.' 'Douche bag.' 'Dumbass.' 'Jer---' 'WILL YOU STOP HOVERING!' His grating voice snapped me out of my rant. I glanced behind me, looking for the unfortunate person the idiot was yelling at. There was no one else in the room. I closed my eyes and rubbed them furiously. There was still no one else in the room. My eyes widened slightly as I looked at him, realization dawning on me. 'You can see me!' I gasped. It wasn't a question. It was statement of disbelief but that didn't stop the idiot from replying. 'No, I'm talking to the other stalker ghost behind you.' He muttered sarcastically. 'You can see me!' I screamed in amazement, too distracted to realize he insulted me. 'Sweet heavens! He can see me!' 'I think we've already established that baby doll.' He rolled his eyes. His condescending tone coupled with the patronizing look that had "you are crazy" written all over it was enough to snap me out of the temporary state of euphoria. __________________ Four little words. Very simple words that changed my existence and gave me hope for the first time in over two hundred years. Someone could see me. He could see me! Now I just have to figure out a way to convince the biggest jerk I know to help me lift a two hundred year old curse. Piece of cake.
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