Morbid Curiosity, Page 3

and I place my hand on her shoulder. She disappears. I don’t know if she’s in Heaven or Hell. I hope this good deed did something to earn her points. The kid looks up and blood is pouring from his nose and mouth. “Bet you didn’t think it would turn out like this, huh?”

  “...the fuck happened?” he asks. He spits blood onto the ground. The ghosts waver for a minute. Blood creeps them out for some reason. They tend to hate crime scenes.

  “You got beaten by a dead whore,” I tell him. “I’m gonna shoot you in the balls, okay?”

  “Why?” he asks.

  “My high from having sex with my ex wife is wearing off and I need something to get my blood pumping again, I guess” I tell him. “Now hold still. It’ll only hurt for a minute.”

  I never shot that kid. I took his gun and dropped it in the garbage a few miles away. But I bet he never tries that nonsense again. I have an appointment in a few hours with a family that is convinced their ancestors are haunting them. I’ve done these a ton of times. Twice it turned out some drug addict was living in their attic. I’m gonna head home for a bit of rest before heading over.

  I pull into my driveway and Richard is waiting for me. He’s standing in the driveway like an angry father whose son took the car for a joyride without permission. I get out and walk through him again. He tries to grab me but can’t. I shove him to the ground.

  “That’s not fair,” he says as he gets up and dusts himself off. No, he isn’t dirty. Just stupid and living habits die hard. “Why can’t I touch you?”

  “Because I don’t like you that way,” I tell him as I head indoors. “You should stop hanging around here. This neighborhood is kinda bad. Lots of robberies.”

  “Then why do you live here?” he asks. “Aren’t you afraid of being robbed or killed?”

  “I was robbed less than half an hour ago,” I tell him. “And death is the last thing I’m afraid of. You know what scares me? Measles. My parents didn't believe in inoculations.”

  “With your gift you have an obligation to help me” he says. “What you have is a gift from God. God gave that to you to help others. To deny me is to deny God.”

  “Oh, shut up,” I say as I open my door and slam it. He’s not the first to say that nonsense. I’d grab a beer but I don’t have much time. I close my eyes and attempt to relax. I think about finding a real job. A regular old 9 to 5. I’ve tried it a few times but found it incredibly dull. I even worked as a counselor for a suicide hotline. I was fired halfway through my shift for daring someone to shoot themselves while on the phone. They did and waited for me when I walked to my car. I congratulated them on their excellent follow up skills. Just when I start to doze off my phone rings. “Yeah.”

  “Have you seen Louise?” It’s Mr. Largecock, Anthony.

  “Maybe she’s resting after banging me in a seedy hotel” I say.

  “That’s not funny and it is also an attack on her character” he says before adding, “and this call is being recorded.”

  “And you’re being retarded.” I tell him as I hang up. Before I know it its time to head to work.

  I push past Richard and head to Northridge. Never been a fan of this place. The roads are clogged with accident victims waiting to be released. I ignore them as best I can and find this filthy house. My, God, look at this. The entire family, all, 13, 14, no, 16 of them are waiting for me on the lawn. And they say Native Americans are dying out. No they’re not. They all just moved to The Valley. A young lady, with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, walks to my car before I even step out and starts talking.

  “It’s gotten worse since we last spoke!” she shouts at me. I hate loud. “They’re destroying everything!” I feel like a cop being called for a disturbance.

  “How many do you think there are?” I ask her.

  “We don’t know,” she says. I walk past her and on to their porch. An old lady, maybe close to 100 years old, grabs my wrist and I pull it away.

  “You’re special,” she tells me.

  “That’s what the driver of the short bus told me,” I say as I step into the house. Haven’t been in a place this pumped full of bad in a few years. I can feel bad spirits like a blanket on my shoulders. For you who can't do what I do, if you were to walk in here you’d feel uncomfortable but not know why. “You can all show yourselves,” I say aloud. The house shakes a bit and everyone outside screams. I walk to the door and look at them. “The whole screaming thing? Not helping. Go gamble or something until I’m done.” I close the door and sit down to watch some TV.

  “Get out...” a voice says.

  “Later” I tell it. “That whole ‘Get out’ thing only works in movies. Just let me see you and send you on your way.” The voice shows itself and for the first time in years I feel something I forgot about: Fear. “What the fuck are you?”

  “You would not believe me if I told you” this thing says. It has the shape of a man. Arms, legs, and a body. But the head looks like a large buffalo. It’s wearing a loincloth and no shirt or shoes. He also has a large spear with feathers tied to the end. “I am not leaving. This is my home.”

  “I’m not a realtor and really don’t care whose home it is. But they are paying me to get you out. Make me a better offer and I’ll get them to leave.” He rushes me with his spear and jabs it into my chest. It feels like a tingle. “You’re a strong one. Not too many ghosts can touch me.”

  “You can not make me leave,” it says. He actually speaks through the buffalo head. It’s like something out of Narnia.

  “I think I can,” I say as I jump up and tackle him to the ground. His eyes look shocked. He tries to shove me off but his hands just pass through me. I grab him by the horns and slam his head to the floor.

  “What are you doing?” the lady asks me from the door. I didn’t hear her come in.

  “Fighting a buffalo,” I say as it struggles to get free.

  “A what?” she asks.

  “Do you mind?” I tell her. “I’m kinda busy.” I punch it in the face a few times and grab it by the neck and drag it outside. The family screams as I wrestle with it on the ground. The house begins to creak and shake. “Go away” I say to it.

  “This is my home,” it says. It actually sounds sad. I lay my hand on his chest and close my eyes. I am bombarded with images. Most of them make no sense to me. Stars, lights, horses, wolves, blood. I open my eyes and it’s gone. I stand and wipe my shirt off. The old lady points to my face.

  “You’re bleeding,” she says. I wipe my nose and sure enough I am. “Thanks” I say. “Now if you’ll just pay me I’ll be on my way.”

  I just made $2000 and all it took was a bloody nose. This is a good day. I get into my car and head back home. My schedule is clear for the rest of the evening. I pull into my driveway and Richard is still there. He’s smiling.

  “Have fun?” he asks me. Spirits have a way of knowing what each other are doing. The afterlife is the largest game of telephone ever. He stomps his foot and puts his fingers to his head imitating a bull, adding a snort at the end.

  “Lots,” I tell him.

  “I met your wife today” he says with a smirk on his lips. “Not very nice.”

  “And how’d you meet her?” I ask, humoring him.

  “She was killed earlier today,” he says. “I think she’s inside waiting for you.”

  “You go bye now,” I say as I raise my hand to him and he falls to the ground. The shadows from the trees reach for him and he slowly begins to fade.

  “What are you doing?!” he shouts.

  “What you asked for,” I tell him. He’s gone and I feel better. I walk into my house and sit down in front of the TV. I think I’ll have that beer now.

  “I thought you stopped drinking” Louise says. I drop my beer and it sprays all over the kitchen. Except not a drop touches Louise. Because she’s dead.

  “What the hell happened to you?” I ask her. I see no damage to her face. She didn’t hang herself or anything. She turns around and lifts her shirt.
Two bullet holes are in her back.

  “Some punk kid shot me and took my purse,” she says. “Some guy said you had a prostitute beat him up.”

  “Yeah, I did,” I say. “When did he do this? I left a few minutes after you did.” “Probably right before you left,” she says.

  “At least I didn’t have sex with a ghost” I say relieved. “Now I wish I had killed the kid. I took his gun and threw it in the trash.” I look at her and feel sad. Another rarity for me. This day is just full of surprises. “You seem to be taking all this in stride. You know, being dead and all.”

  “The funny thing is that when I died you were the first person I thought of,” she tells me. “I came here and heard about you fighting a buffalo or something. I saw that guy in front of your house and spoke to him for a few minutes. He’s pushy. I feel like an ass for not believing you all these years. You really can talk to spirits.”

  “Stinks that it took you being shot in the back for it to happen,” I say. “So what do you want now?”

  “What do you mean?” she asks me.

  “I can send you away if you want,” I tell her. She looks confused. “I can lay my hand on you and send you to wherever.”

  “What’s ‘wherever’?” she asks.

  “Heaven. Hell. I don’t know. But I send spirits there.” I grab a towel and start wiping up the beer. She tries to touch the top of my head and passes through me. I look up at her. “Yeah, I can touch you but you can't touch me.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair,” she