Ghostly Man
Ghostly Man comedy stories
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captainamiraca
captainamiraca I'm an aspiring writer, I hope you enjoy
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
Okay so, I know a lot of Ghosts and Ghouls get all uppity about Halloween. They’re always on about how it’s disrespectful, glorifying death. To that I say, they’ve been dead for too damn long. I get it though, being dead isn’t wonderful. And teenagers prancing around cemeteries trying to see who’s going to get scared the most can make any dead guy a little bitter.

Ghostly Man

Okay so, I know a lot of Ghosts and Ghouls get all uppity about Halloween. They’re always on about how it’s disrespectful, glorifying death. To that I say, they’ve been dead for too damn long.

I get it though, being dead isn’t wonderful. And teenagers prancing around cemeteries trying to see who’s going to get scared the most can make any dead guy a little bitter.

Fortunately for us dead folk, the Pagans cracked some sort of bound to heaven or hell code in the whole being dead clause.

Before All Hallows Eve became mainstream, the Pagans used all Hallows eve to give the dead a chance to see their family again.

That sounds pretty freaking awesome right? Well, a couple dead douchebags ruined it for everyone and gave the day a bad rep.

Cue Pagans being crucified metaphorically and physically, blah blah here we are. Or...

well here I am in a convenience store trying to decide which pair of sunglasses will make my white cloth look extra sexy.

I picked a pair with circular rims and tried to find the price tag. “What a steal only 5 dollars,” I said this aloud but I wasn’t sure if anyone could even hear me.

It was only my 7th Halloween and it was hard to tell if people just didn’t pay attention, or if I just never made any noise.

I took the glasses through the store until I found a section with tape. I grabbed the tape took a couple strips and taped the glasses to the white cloth that I had put around myself.

I turned back and looked at myself in the mirror. Nice, I looked like a tablecloth, but at least I was a cool tablecloth.

The only problem I had now was figuring out how to leave the store. I stood in front of the doors and stared.

The problem wasn’t the idea of stealing sunglasses and 10 pieces of tape, the problem was the doors were automatic and I didn’t really count as a real person.

I guess the AI technology didn’t often open their doors for pieces of cloth.

So basically I was trapped, unsure what else to do I stood there until some drunk weirdo tried coming in.

“Hey, are you planning on buying anything?” A nasally voice asked from behind me. Call it my ghostly senses but I knew one of the workers was coming up behind me. I didn’t turn around, not yet.

“Dude, can you hear me from under that sheet?” His footsteps got closer.

Just as I felt the warmth of his body the doors where triggered and I quickly waddled out. Yes, waddled. I still couldn’t run as a ghost.

Listen, don’t make fun of me you don’t understand how unnatural it is running when your heart wasn’t beating, your pulse wasn’t elevated, and you weren’t sucking in a shit load of air.

So I waddled, but trust me I was a pretty quick waddler. That or the worker just didn’t care enough to go after me.

About a mile away, or what felt like a mile from the convenience store I turned the corner and went down a sidewalk.

It wasn’t like I knew this place, but my ‘ghostly’ senses sort of tingled when I was around a super large group of people.

I call it ghostly senses but if I’m being more honest, it’s probably just ghostly anxiety.

As I waddled I began to hear the bass of pounding music, and the yells of belligerent young adults doing young adult things. It looked like a block party so I had no problem getting closer.

There was the usual scene, skimpy clothing from all genders, alcohol in peoples hands, half-hearted ghosts and pumpkins taped on the side of the walls, and some smashed pumpkins on the sidewalk.

It was just my scene, I waddled through the open front door. The party was going off. Every other second the color of the entire room would change.

It was enough to give my past epileptic self a heart attack...well probably a seizure.

I scanned around the room and found a perfect corner that I could stand in.

Now came the hard part, navigating the room without getting a drink spilled on me, without my sunglasses coming off, and without getting into a grinding match with a random drunk girl.

I mentally cracked my non-existent knuckles and waddled through. I waddled around people, waddled under poles, and rolled under tables.

“Hey, dude limbo!” A guy behind me yelled I waddled faster to the pole avoiding the kid touching me. It was less for my sake and more for his.

Trust me, three Halloweens ago I blew some guys mind and I’m pretty sure he’s a shut-in now.

Mentally I groaned as I saw how low the pole in fact “goed”. As suspicious as it seemed, I bent back in a perfectly 90-degree angle and walked through.

When I stood up on the other end the crowd of people surrounding me drunkenly cheered. As suspicious as it seemed, I doubted anyone had their wits about them at the moment.

After catching a ride on the tail end of a conga line, I had finally arrived at my corner. And she was beautiful. Just behind a table only covered by a few pumpkins and a mostly full punch bowl.

I drifted to my corner and pressed myself into it, this was where I felt most comfortable.

Now before you start calling some sort of ghostly loser, trust me this is quite the glow up.

I went from a stressed epileptic college student to a chill transparent dude in a white tablecloth and sunglasses. So not the most traditional transition, but I was happy with it I guess.

“Hey, ghostly man! Wanna take a selfie with me?” A girl in a sexy tree outfit asked waving her phone from the other end of the table.

First, I took a moment and tried to process her costume, then I answered.

“Uh, not really,” I said as loudly as I could over the music. She smiled and began walking around the table. See, this is what I mean.

It’s hard to tell if I quite literally can’t talk, or if no one's listening. She got really close to me, one of her branches made an inward dent into where my torso should have been.

She extended her arm and snapped a few pictures, making different faces in each one.

“Thanks, dude! I see you like every year here,” I blinked, had I really been showing up to the same place every year.

Did I know this place or something? I turned around and actually began to inspect the house.

The wallpaper seemed vaguely familiar to me, the painting on the wall across the room held a familiarity to it. Like the painting knew me and I kne-

“I’m going to get some more alcohol buh bye!” She blew a kiss and crawled under the table, flashing me in the process. I watched her go and shrugged my ghostly shoulders. Either way, I was dead.

Memories weren’t that important to me anymore.

I readjusted myself into my corner and watched the rest of the party unfold. Maybe next year, I’d put on a name tag that said, ghostly man.

I smiled to myself and nodded, yup next year I’d bring my A game.

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