It was a normal night for me, minus the freakish weather and abnormally clouded skies. Not to mention the howling wolves scratching at my windows. Though such things are to be expected when your house is built on an ancient Indian burial ground, but really it makes the house that much quirkier. Not to mention how much it raises the property value. I passed the time enjoying my stable internet and satellite television The only way the thunderstorm could ruin this was by thundering and pouring down heavy rains.

Much to my surprise, it did just that. The thunder roared and crackled like a drum rolling down the side of a mountain. Each beat shaking the house’s very foundation, all the way down to the Indian burial ground it was built on. With the final cymbal crash being enough to knock the electricity’s lights out. For a few brief seconds the house was filled with white light, like a god was descending down and less than a second later it was pitch black, as if that god realized it had the wrong address.
Outside of the powerlines suffering a gruesome and brutal death everything was fine. Or at least a far as I could tell, it was pitch black. Falling square on my face was a common occurrence, but now the risk was at an all time high. So to keep my face to ground ratio to a minimum I put only my sniffer to the floor to hound down my phone. Velma could never find her glasses with her hands alone, but Scooby’s a champ with his schnoz.
Magically I manage to find my phone almost exactly where I left, maybe even exactly where I left it. Turning it on I saw it grasping for the straws of life and drawing the short one. But like a real troop he refused to die without giving a dramatic spiel. He grabbed me by the collar and jerked me closer every time he emphasised a word. “...tell my wife, she’s the father” he said before his neck went limp and his eyes abruptly shut. Like that the dying phone spoke and using his dying body I made one last call. Not to honor his last wish, but to call over an electrician.
Before I could even plan my phone’s funeral a quick thump thump thump came from the door. This beats Pizza Hut's thirty minutes or less deal by about a hundred percent. I opened the door with a smile, but made sure to not actually invite him in, just in case he was vampire. Much to my relief he barged right in and went straight to work without even asking for permission. A giant of a man was in my home now. He made things wetter wherever he went; I wish he dried himself off before he came inside. WIth blatant disregard to basic safety he wrangled wires with his raw, meaty, unprotected, still wet hands.
After an hour or so of him nearly electrocuting himself he stood up and turned the lights on. Now I could see him in all his glory. Seconds passed by as our eyes locked together in an almost trance like state. The light bounced off him into my eyes and back to his retina only to be processed by my visual cortex again. My heart was racing and my pale cheeks turned red. This man looked like a greek statue turned to life, cut from marble and the model of perfection. What did he want? What should I do?
Slowly words rolled out of his mouth, they were deep and powerful, "That’ll be eight hundred".
Those words were too deep and too powerful. Because those words hit my ear like a truck hitting a baby seal, I doubled back and landed face down on the ground. Gasping for air with my head spinning. I crawled on the carpet with my hands and knees and mustering up the cutest face I could, I said. “Maybe we could settle on some alternative form of payment?” Batting my eyelashes I added. “You know, maybe we could ... reinstate the bartering system?”
He stood there like a mountain and stared deep into me with a rock hard stare of cold stone with his eyes of steel.
“How about I trade you my collection of vintage candles? Surely such a big strong man like you is in the market for some candles made in the 60s.”
His expression refused to change on the outside, but I could see through his poker face. I waltzed away and beckoned him to follow. “I have a little surprise for you.’’
As I was unlocking the door to my spare candles, a green light lit up the room. Did he turn the lights on? No, for one he already did that, and two I didn't own any green lights, the Homeowners Association wouldn't let me. When I turned around my eyelids refused to close, but then again I didn't want them to. The electricians clothes were scattered across the floor and he stood there staring at me. I was enticed, what had become of him? He was not the same electrician I knew before. No, because he was a ghost now. And ghost legally cannot be electricians.
A tall green bulky fellow, pulsating with rage. He looked like a Popsicle left out in the sun then slammed back in the freezer. Tentacles and claws and all sorts of deformities riddled his body making him look like something Lovecraft would be too scared to write about. Imagine an octopus fused with an inside out shark, tinted green with a little bit of ugly sprinkled on top. And the was what my electrician had become. Honoring the spirit of Steve Irwin, I decided to go see what he was up to.
“Blaargh!” A rave of whipping arms flailed and a strobe light of chaos lighted my home. I made a mad dash to my bathroom forgetting everything except for how to run. Now I know how it feels to be Pac-Man. And pretty soon I was going to learn how it feels to be Inky too.
Slamming the door behind me I jumped into the tub and pulled the shower curtain down over me. It was cold, dark, and quiet and I knew that I could remedy at least one of those. Tiptoeing, I made absolutely sure to make no more noise than a mute mouse without any toes. Swinging my hand around blindly I looked for the lighter that I used for smoking in the shower. After fishing around in the toilet I find it sitting in my pocket. Once I got the flame going I whipped my arms around like a helicopter. Occasionally passing over a wick of one of the many candles I kept by the tub, but for the most part I just wantonly knocked them over. Eventually my bathroom looked like a very bleak night sky where most of the stars forgot to show up to work that night. What my bathroom lacked in light and heat, it made up for with vanilla. My nose tingled and I remembered why I never lit these, I was allergic to va- achooo!
Not soon after an alien howl, that is to say a strange series of synth noises, reverberated throughout the house. My heart stopped. "Ooga Booga!", he said bursting through the door with his tongue flailing like a mad man. I squealed like a piggy on the chopping block. With panic coursing through my veins I hurled myself forward barreling past the ghost and into the hallway.
Screaming the whole way there with my arms in the air like an inflatable arm man that just don't care, I made my way to my room. Going up the stairs I teetered between the brink of death and the edge of life. But my ancient ancestors cheered me on, whispering "no don't die". Another voice added "at least not until you pass on your genetic material". I was sure to follow their advice. But if only they had followed their own.
When I reached my room I put a pair of gloves on and carefully turned the knob as to not ruin the fine polish. Afterwards I slammed the door and returned to my panicked state. My eyes darted trying to make out shapes in the darkness, I looked like some sort of maniac frantically looking for his misplaced sock. I thought of hiding in the closest, but it was really gross in there, so instead I settled for under the bed. Only monsters hid under beds, so it would be the last place it would think to look.
After making sure someone didn't already call dibs on this spot I crawled under, with the mattress on top of me and my toes sticking out from underneath. Hopefully the ghost wouldn't be wise enough to moves his eyes down a few degrees.
Without warning the door swung open with a strong gust of wind and a crackle of lightning. I was about ready to pop out to see who it was but then I remembered it was probably the rabid ghost murderer who was looking for me. Taking a peep just to make sure, I saw his trailing blue tails slowly meandering around the room like feelers reaching in every direction. One of them snaked their way under the bed and slowly brushed by my nose. It seemed to have a slight scent of vanill- Achooo.
When I opened my eyes the world was flipped upside down, or at least I was. A tentacle was tied around my feet and I was strung up in the air like a fish out of water. The ghost looked me up, down and back again, all while I was flopping about bug eyed trying to make my way back to the ocean. We wrestled, me contorting my body wildly and he treating me like Darla did Nemo. Instead of taking me home he released me followed by an audible sigh.
He walked over to my dresser and I pieced together what was going down in his brain. And no way was I going to let him take advantage of me. I wiggled over to my purse, but before I could inch another inch further he placed his foot flat on my back. While putting all the weight of a ghost down on my ribs he stretched out a tentacle and pointed it straight at my dresser. With a quick flip a blade swung out and with a slight twirl it lunged forward. Poking a hole through my handbag and tearing it right open. The dam was compromised and it’s insides gushed out like a bottle of champagne. Gold showered down all over both of us. The ghost shuffled it all into a pile, picked it up and went back into the abyss, presumably to his ghost wife and kids.