This originally appeared on my Medium.com page, where I post fiction pieces.
The Ghost Athiest
“Dude, wake up.”
Paul rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. “You’re not talking to me. I already told you ghosts aren’t real. Rather, they could be real, but there’s no evidence for or against. My non-belief is pragmatic and based on the scientific method”, he said.
“Paul, this is going to get ugly if you don’t get your stupid meatbag ass outta that bed. I have to right wrongs on Earth so I can move on, and you’ll learn something through the quest.”
Paul sighed. “This is just a side effect of my medication. I’m going back to sleep.”
“Goddamnit Paul! Even prescription-strength dandruff shampoo doesn’t cause claw-like lacerations, auditory and visual hallucinations, and fuckin’ ECTOPLASM!”
“The scratches are from inexpensive towels, the hallucinations are from being tired, and the alleged ectoplasm is sebaceous fluid from my inflamed scalp. Goodnight, to no one and nothing, because I am alone.” Paul said, glad for having stood up for himself.
The ghost shook the bed. “A common earthquake, and a pitiful one, at that.”
The ghost opened Paul’s laptop and typed “SAMSAMSAMSAMSAMSAMSAMSAM.”
“Screensaver,” Paul declared.
“Listen, jackass, I have to settle accounts” the ghost said.
“Misplaced workplace anxiety,” answered Paul.
The ghost jumped in through Paul’s solar plexus and made his head turn around three times.
“Yoga must be paying off”, a smug Paul said. “Namaste.”
“I have business with the realm of the living, and I’ve chosen you as my corporeal assistant”, the Ghost said from within Paul’s thorax.
“I have big things to do. I’m going to change the World! I believe in me, I’m a winner, and nothing can get in my way!” affirmed Paul.
The ghost swam out through the main exit, dragging a fart with him. Paul giggled.
“You screwed up big time, buddy! You could have been rich, and imbued with the power of the spirit world. You could even have been reunited with your dead dog, Sparky. I’m outta here.” The ghost said, before flying through the dreamcatcher over Paul’s window and teleporting to Arizona.
“Is he gone?” asked a voice from under the bed.
“Yeah, it’s cool. Come on out, babe”, Paul said
“Whew, that was close” said Lady Sasquatch, as she slipped under the comforter. “Tell me about Sparky” she said, spooning Paul.