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by carol piner
Published in Humor & Entertainment
Kindle currently .99 cents. Limited time only
Little Callie was knocking on her Mama's womb at seven months when Mama caught Daddy with another "stench". She was in there, wailing away, "Git 'im, Mama, git 'im." Later that day, her Mama's water broke and Little Callie was born to a life as a chaos magnet. It never changed. It was hilarious.
ANYBODY SEE A GHOST?
With our house, for free, we had our very own ghost. It belonged to all of us. Ghosts are cool. I didn’t think so at first, but I learned. Once I got to know him, I named him Wilson. He brought us together, so to speak. It became something to get excited about other than walk to the water and toss clothes out. Our Wilson provided unique entertainment.
In the house, if you came up the stairs and took a right, you would pass a bathroom. Next you would go straight into the room where we three girls slept. Crissie was the first to see him. Bummer. She slept to the right of the doorway. Mary was on the far wall, and I was on the wall heading back to the door. Buck and Larry were down the hall on the right and Mama and Daddy were on the left.
Crissie started screaming one night, but we didn’t take her too seriously. We were unusually used to screaming at any time day or night. We simply absorbed the sound like a rag. Not a huge ticket puncher there. She didn’t come right out at first and say she saw a ghost. No one would have believed her. I wouldn’t set myself up for something like that with this circus crowd, either. But, she kept bawling and saying she saw something. Mary and I didn’t see anything for a couple of weeks, but that was because every time Crissie started to scream, we’d close our eyes. Smart, huh? Real detectives. Two Sherlock Stupid Holmes in the making. I’m pretty sure Mary was the next to see it, because I wasn’t opening my eyes for anybody. If I didn’t recognize the voice, I wouldn’t even come up for air. Mary also got credit for calling it a ghost. I’m convinced, this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t left my brains on the living room floor. She not only had the guts to be the first to call it a ghost, she could describe it. I was the last of the girls to see it. When I finally did see it, I was dumbfounded because you actually could SEE IT. Shape and all. It would come in the door while we were lying there like frightened rabbits. If rabbits did the fetal position, that is. We didn’t dare get up and leave because Daddy did not want to deal with this so we were trapped by who to be afraid of most and Daddy won hands down. It would float in and out. Really. The legs wouldn’t be moving, but the shape itself was moving. The entity itself was on the move without any body parts causing it. Weird. You could see arms and legs, torso and the head, and unexpectedly, it wore a hat. And a uniform. Swear to God. One night I hollered, “Hey, Wilson.”
Wilson looked like a policeman or a serviceman. We were only seventeen miles from the largest marine corp airbase in the US. in one direction and forty miles from another in the other direction. It could have been a milkman or postman. Who knew? He would come in and sort of float to the right, toward Crissie. It came across her wall, passed Mary’s wall, then mine and went out the door. It wasn’t quick or slow, just smooth. Slow motion, but not dragging. No moaning or anything like that, unfortunately or I might have figured out it was a dead person sooner. Real quiet, he was. You notice I’ve said “he”. It was not a female, because it was clearly a he. He didn’t say hi. Everybody saw him before he was shot.
Early on we screamed mostly at each other, because it didn’t seem to bother him. Sometimes we screamed just to practice for everyday life and the ghost had nothing to do with it. I did anyway. I was intrigued by it because he acted like he had somewhere to go. We would scream real quick when we first saw it and shut up fast, embarrassed. Mama wouldn’t have screamed. She never did. By then, everyone had seen it and it was time for us to get blase’ about it all. Continental, you know. Like everybody had one. He became one of the family to everybody but Daddy and Larry. Larry made the first strike against him. Nerd ball.
I said earlier that Wilson seemed to have somewhere to go. Apparently, it was the bathroom. Gross thought, huh? A ghost sitting there, taking a dump in the same toilet you sit on. Yuk. However, that is where it would head when it left our room. Not really wanting to be trapped in a bathroom with a ghost, Larry decided to mount his attack while it was in our room. Right over Mary’s head. One night he came into the room with a knife he had carved by hand. A knife of unusual beauty; all smooth and shellacked. Maybe 9" of blade and 5" of handle. It was a beautiful creation plus it was his pride and joy. He carried it around with him on his belt and considered himself armed. Had that strut in his walk, you know? He strutted in, then he hid under Mary’s bed, like a coward. I’m sure he thought it was strategy. Wilson was dead, Larry. Get with it. I was really hoping it would go under the bed after him. I’d pay good money to see that. If I’d had any.
We waited for it to show, which it did faithfully every evening after that first night. You could count on it. Same time, same place, same routine. When Wilson came in, we automatically fetaled. Is that a word? He came in slowly, then started going around the wall. Larry jumped up. You know, like he was going to surprise it or something, and slung that beautiful knife at the ghost. The ghost kept gliding, nice and slow. Doing it’s ghost thing while Larry’s knife stayed right where it stuck. We were having conniptions. At least, I was. You think back and you wonder what had been in Larry’s head? Did he plan to kill it or just maim it? Did he think he would impale it and there it would be, stuck to the wall? Good God Almighty! And, if either of those notions were in his head, what did he think he would do with it then? Filet it like a fish? I would think a ghost moving away from you was a lot easier to deal with than one stuck on your damned wall, for Christ’s sake. But, that’s just me. If he wants it as a poster, let him stick it to his own damn wall. How long did he plan to let it suffer while hanging there? At least in his mind it would be hanging there. I think I loved these people. I’m not sure. As the oldest you would think he should have been smarter than that. I knew it wouldn’t work for much longer but, at the time, it was more fun laughing at him than trying to train him. These people were a hoot a minute.
You might not be surprised to find out the knife went right through it? Duh! It was still stuck a full inch into the wall. Larry was speechless, and good ‘ol Lar speechless was a delight to behold. Of course, the baton was immediately passed to Daddy. His first born had failed. What irony. What creativity. He used a gun. I think God looked down when he created this crew of brainless homo sapiens and decided he hadn’t had a chance to screw around since knocking off the dinosaurs, so he’d play with us. Have a snicker or two.
Daddy did the same thing Larry did. Like son, like father? Who thought of these awful things? I couldn’t handle all the fun I was having. Quietly, mind you, lest the evil force, Daddy, turn on me. There Daddy was one night, in a crouch. Getting in an offensive position to tackle something that wasn’t even real. Up to now, it had only hurt Larry’s pride. Daddy’s was in for a pounding. Wilson came in, waltzed around the walls and went out. He was a whole lot less dangerous than the menfolk who were focused on it’s destruction. Wilson meandered down the landing and sauntered in it’s nice ghostly way into the bathroom. Without knocking, Daddy charged after it. Bellowing. Attila the idiot. I don’t know how you see it, but for me, this was the way to grow up. Who could have it any better? The way I looked at it was, I didn’t know what a ghost goes into the bathroom for and I didn’t wanta find out. But, that was just me.
For a minute, we had one of those pregnant pauses. We didn’t hear anything outta that bathroom. It only lasted a second because I was going nuts and Mama was hanging onto me trying to hold me back. “I wanta see, I wanta seeeeeee.” All of a sudden, a shotgun blast went off. A shotgun, guys. In a bathroom. Do you know how loud that could be? Whoeee! Daddy shot a ghost in the bathroom, Daddy shot a ghost in the bathroom! Sing it out loud. I laughed so hard I fell down. Then, Daddy came running out, white as a ghost, you might say. Damn near ran over me. Buck ran in when Daddy ran out. No doubt looking for whatever a shot ghost looked like. What a circus. What a family. What a life. The only thing Daddy accomplished was Mama got a new bathroom and we got a glimpse of a head with nothing but air in it, and I’m not talking about the ghost.
So, since we couldn’t kill it (again),we shared the house with our new friend. Daddy, however, was grumpier than ever. It could have been because he made an absolute ass of himself in front of babies smarter than he was. Those of us with brains enjoyed his humiliation, anyway. However, Larry went into the kind of battle he was better at. This time with research. He found out a mailman lived there years before. He had been in uniform on the porch on the second level and accidently killed himself cleaning his rifle. He had slept in our room. We received no updates from him about the ghost’s need to go to the bathroom, but I let that pass. Mama and Daddy thought seriously about moving. To me, you gotta be seriously crazy to move out of a house that has a ghost. I decided we were special. God had sent someone down to screw with us. What was wrong with that? Didn’t they get it? Hello-o-o-o?
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I am a happy, reasonably happy 67 year old female. I wrote a hilarious book called Evidence of Insanity that is written in Southern story telling form. I currently have 47 out of 49 five star reviews. Sit back and hold on. They can't make this stuff up.