Two haunting specters get both more, and less, than they bargained for…
Upon a dark and unassuming night
Two poltergeists each undertook to fright
The same dull mortal. Unbeknownst to each
They’d each decided him to teach
A lesson, and began to haunt the fool.
A dullard, unaware of either ghoul,
He didn’t hear them howling in surprise
When each found out they haunted the same prize.
As he drank beer and watched big-screen TV
The specters argued which of them would be
The one to drive him from his tiny gourd,
Which ghost would fill the house as spirit lord.
“I saw this moron first, I have first claim.”
“But I have better tools to play the game.”
“He asked for it, by being so dull and lame.”
“But I assert my rights here just the same.”
So did the gaseous spooks trade tit for tat
To choose which one would use him as a matt.
At last, the dueling spooks began to tire
And from necessity chose to conspire.
In wraith complicity did ghouls agree
To make a contest of their devilry.
“We each shall haunt this drooling clod in turns,
Until his noggin aches and stomach churns.
Example of this dunderhead we’ll make
So other breathing half-wits fear and shake.
The first began with random shouts of taunting
To undertake the clueless mortal’s haunting.
Cries of “a-hole” filled the neighborhood
But by the mortal were misunderstood.
He thought they came from house across the street,
Where couple fought who seldom were discreet.
The second specter chortled at this fail
And tried to start a haunt of more avail.
“They’re coming for you. Do not leave the house,”
In tones of dread the gaseous ghostling groused.
The mortal minded not the frightful threat,
And ‘O’ for ‘O’ stood either in the bet.
The pillowed with him when he went to bad
Each spook on separate side of dummkopf’s head.
But no more luck had they than trial before–
‘Twas they were haunted by the mortal’s snore.
Upon the morrow when he rose, ere dressed,
Each specter undertook to manifest,
And strove to frighten him into arrest;
To which his ass replied with earthy zest.
Another plot the gaseous battlers hatched,
And told the mortal he was being watched.
With ghostly X-ray eyes the bogies stared:
“We see you, please put on your underwear.”
The mortal now was frightened to the quick,
And wondered who should eye his body thick.
Were apparitions formerly in stealth
Now coming out of hiding for his health?
Wherefrom could creatures such as these two hail
Who troubled for a look at flesh so frail?
Could they no better entertainment get?
Had they no way to reach the Internet?
“Assuredly they’ve gone astray with me,
Or missed by hundred years their century.
Why should they give to me the third degree
When I know nothing other than TV?”
The mortal’s logic was to no avail.
To haunt the gassy spooks still made travail.
“Do not lie down to rest; you must not sleep.
We want you to be weary as we creep.
To prove to you the hauntings we will make;
We’ll echo loud the thoughts you haven’t spake.
Any puny notion you may form,
Though uttered not, streams out our ghastly forms.”
No sooner did he ponder this than they
Performed it true. “There is no freaking way,”
He thought, then heard the words out loud,
As though through megaphone addressing crowd.
He stood, unmoving, trying not to think,
To catch his thoughts before the verbal brink.
How does a mortal haunting spooks evade
When they can hear his thoughts before they’re made?
“Well, if from snooping ghosts I can’t be free,
I may as well sit down to watch TV.”
He squirmed into his seat amidst the crumbs
When notion entered in his cranium.
“This sofa’s quite the mess; it’s full of food.
A thorough vacuuming would do it good.”
No sooner did his notion echo back
Than vacuum cleaner entered sofa crack.
“No! Turn it off! For haunting’s sake, no more!”
The apparitions wailed unlike before.
The mortal vacuumed on, in every crack;
At least this tiny comfort he’d not lack.
So what if sniping specters wouldn’t go?
In comfort would he watch his favorite show.
As cushions he delinted with the hose,
Each hair and fiber up the airway rose.
The ghastly wailings rose into a shriek
As every speck with vacuum he did seek.
Only then the mortal realized
The spirit-sucking weapon he’d devised,
For as the vacuum pulled in mighty gusts
It breathed in spooks along with lint and dust!
The vexsom wraiths had vacuum brought to wrack;
They roiled like cats entrapped in gunny sack.
No longer could the loathsome spooks attack;
Their haunting powers would-be haunters lacked.
The mortal, who’d at last attained a clue,
Decided in a flash just what to do.
He jerked the power cord out from the socket
And lashed it tight around the bag to lock it,
Then carried vacuum, bag, and bogeys–all–
Out to the trash, and cast away the squall.
Was that the end of haunting wraiths, you ask?
Now landfill seagulls take the spooks to task.