From the Archive.

So there I am again, staying with James, only this time I brought my friend Katy. Because she is “new” she gets the upstairs room, which I forget to mention to her is haunted. But it is. But she doesn’t notice. Odd.

But maybe not, because there I am, staying in the basement, right near the Indiana Jones tomb which I see has a nice new wooden frame around it now, all polished in an unhealthily obsessed way. I mean, if you had an unexplained little half-tunnel in your basement that looked like a home for a coffin, would you fix it up nice? Anyway, I have to pass through the room with the tomb every time I go upstairs, which is a trial in the dark, let me tell you.

But if the ghost does not bother Katy it sure bothers me. It doesn’t poke, it bangs. Kathunk, kathunk, ping, ping, ping, BANG. **BANG**. Ping, ping, ping. Kathunk…you get the idea. It was a long night, especially when I went upstairs to get a drink and it banged and pinged its way up the stairs ahead of me. I told it it was dead and it should be quiet and go back to sleep or whatever it is that dead people who are not haunting do.

James’s partner Tony says it’s just the heater, but that fails to explain how the heater can preceed me invisibly up stairs, or how it can stand in the hall, all invisible and everything, waving and doing for all I know jumping jacks to get us to notice it. I notice it. I glare at it. It does an invisible Tasmanian Devil routine every time I pass it to go to the bathroom, but all I ever say is “You’re dead. Get over it.”

You know, I think it’s very much like a little dog that wants to play. Give it a little attention and it’s a happy puppy. I bet it lives for my visits…on second thought there’s got to be a better way to put that.