Ghostbusting

The song goes, "I ain't afraid of no ghosts." People think, "Who you gonna call?" and my name comes into play. One time, a woman begged, so I hired myself out to bust some ghosts. On the phone, she sounded so agitated that I couldn't resist.

"I can't sleep! They bump in the night! I think I see them float by in white gowns but my husband doesn't see them. You have to help us!"

Who can resist a damsel in distress? Off I went, curious and not at all afraid. Every night when I was a child, before I got into bed, I searched my closet and looked under my bed for the bogeyman or his ghostly likeness. I knew exactly what I would do if I saw a ghost. Nothing. I had no clue what to do when I got to this couple's house, so I volunteered a freebie.

A calm woman answered the door. Her diminutive husband peered out from behind the dining room wall. The woman started to giggle. We trudged up the stairs to the second floor to go into the "ghost" room, then stood quietly in an unremarkable area with little furniture. I think the couple held their breaths.

No ghosts here, I thought, but as they talked their fear seemed real.

"I have a solution," I said. "You open the window," I told the man, "and you go get a broom," I said to the woman.

Like stray cats and bats, disgruntled spirits do not wish to stay stuck in one house. I sent out a quiet message, "Hey you ghosts, go terrorize someone else."

When the woman returned with the broom, I saw hints of happiness. I made a show of shooing the ghost out the window.

"No ghosts allowed here!" I yelled.

Weeks later the woman called. "Are they still there?" I asked.

"I'm not sure, but we miss them. Can you make them come back?" she pleaded.

As the saying goes, it takes all kinds.