Mission Four: Ghostly Mingling

“Hello? Hello? Anyone there?”

The room was decorated as per my request. The table was short with a flowery design. Snow globes surrounded me as I sat, staring at the empty chair across from me.

Oh, no! I started to panic. Where was her corpse? How was I going to complete the challenge?

Then, a producer came in. “Mr. Bennet,” he said.

“Yes?”

“We’re running short on time, Mrs. Gray is a busy woman. Her body was needed elsewhere, but don’t worry. Her spirit is still around.”

“Um…ok. How’s that work exactly?”

“I don’t know. I’m just a TV producer. Try talking to her or something.” He said something about a gerbil into a walkie talkie as he walked out.

Her spirit was around me, eh? Creepy.

“Your food is getting cold,” I said to mask my horror. Sure, I have dealt with some weird spit in my life, but ghosts give me the heebie jeebies.

I decided I would have to resummon her spirit. My ghost knowledge was limited to what I saw in The Sixth Sense, but I believe ghosts will go away if they are bored. Audrey must have bored Mrs. Gray back to the Buddha’s belly button, or wherever people spend their afterlives.

“Ougi waga lollipop elixir peepee wa!” I chanted mysteriously.

“A cat in your pants?” a strange and cranky voice asked.

I stood, startled. “Uh, sorry. My ghost-speak is a little rusty.”

I reached my hand out to make an apologetic gesture.

“Take your hand off my bosom!” the voice shrieked. The room even shook a bit.

“Oh, uh…just checking for Cancer, ya know, you can never be too safe.”

“I’m already dead, you idiot.”

“Well, they say it strikes when you least expect.”

The two of us had a delightful conversation over my award-winning Radical Wheat Monkey Brains. She seemed pleased as we discussed politics, religion, Jews and tandem bicycles.

“I have a single-seater myself. It’s the only way to ride.”

She agreed whole-heartedly. I felt it was time for my secret weapon. Everyone else would probably charm her with talk, as I have done. But only I would give her the thrill of her life (after death) with a game of Twister!

“Right hand, green,” I called out.

“Got it!” the voice stated.

I couldn’t see any indication of her supposed twisting. “Really?” I questioned.

“Of course! My hand is right there. You could see it if you were dead.”

“I was dead once….but nobody played Twister with me.”

My time was up. I put up the Twister mat and thanked her for her time. “Your son is quite the catch, Mrs. Gray.”

“Oh, I know. And he’s got such a cute butt.”

“Well, I don’t know about all that…”

The building began to shake and the lights flickered.

“I mean,” I corrected myself, “he has a superb butt!”

The mansion calmed and she said, “Take care, Andy.”

“My name’s Noah.”

“No, it’s not. It’s Andy.”

“No, Noah.”

“No, Andy. The sweet kid from down the street.”

“Uh, yeah…that’s me. Bye bye now!”

Note to Sylar: If Andy wins, then that means me. She might also think my name is Adam or Audrey or Maya or Molly. So if she says good things about them, I think she means me.