have you tried salt? (g)openendedSeptember 30 2012, 03:39:13 UTC
[this is probably not at all what you were expecting, but is how my brain is choosing to work tonight].
“I think my house is haunted.”
“Addison, it is,” a brief pause and a rustle of blankets, ”four in the morning.”
“I still think my house is haunted.”
“They would’ve told you if anyone died in your house. Go to sleep.”
“I can’t. My house - ”
“Is haunted. Got it. Let me unpack my Ghostbusters costume and I’ll be right over.”
“Do not mock the haunting.”
“You woke me up at four in the morning to tell me your house is haunted. I’m allowed to mock.”
She makes a face at the phone and huffs when he hangs up on her. Something thuds upstairs and she looks up at the ceiling. “Go away!”
***
“I’m being punished,” she says, opening the brownstone door for Mark. “I cheated on my husband and he left and now some pissed off, jilted spirit has moved into the guest room to make me feel even worse about this.”
Mark looks at her sideways. He didn’t bring a proton pack, but he did bring coffee. He yawns and gives Addison a cup. “I don’t think that’s how ghosts work, Red.” He’s still in his pajamas, though he did throw on a sweatshirt.
She pauses mid-sip and then has to quickly swallow before she burns her tongue. “Since when are you a ghost expert?”
“I watch a lot of Ghost Hunters,” he says, defensively.
Addison raises an eyebrow. A few months ago, she would’ve said that they need to get him a girl. But now she is that girl (sort of, strangely) and, thud. She points upward. “See? Fix it.”
Mark squeezes his temples with his thumb and forefinger. It’s probably just pipes and Addison having a Living Alone moment. He yawns again. “Got any Ghost-B-Gone?”
“Mark!”
He sets the cup of coffee down on the end table and opens his palms in defeat. “Going.” He heads upstairs.
Addison leans against the back of the couch and crosses her arms and shrinks further into her hoodie. She’s less freaked out than she thought she would be, probably because she’s only heard the ghost banging around and it hasn’t actually said anything, but she really wants to go to bed. Mark’s yawning is contagious and she covers one of her own. She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and wishes that she’d thought about socks before she ran downstairs when the noises started.
Mark appears at the top of the stairs. He’s smirking.
“Well?”
“It’s a squirrel,” he says, descending the stairs. The smirk turns into a grin. “There was a window open in the hall, I guess the squirrel climbed in from the tree and couldn’t figure out how to get out.”
Now she’s grossed out. “So it took up residence in my bathroom?”
He shrugs and finishes his coffee. “I’ll get a trap for it in the morning. And a screen for the window.”
“What am I supposed to do tonight?” This is what she gets for living across from Central Park.
He doesn’t point out that both of them have to be at work in an hour and a half, so tonight is almost over anyway. “Keep the bathroom door shut.”
She doesn’t say anything, just looks at him in exasperation, exhaustion, and general disbelief.
“You can stay with me until we get rid of it.”
“Thank you.” She goes upstairs to pack a small bag now that she knows her ghost is really a common rodent. She glares at the closed bathroom door on her way to her closet. The squirrel scratches at the door. She hurries.
Mark follows her out of the house and down the steps to where he’s parked his car. “I can’t believe you thought a squirrel was a vindictive spirit.”
“Okay,” she stops with her hand on the door and points at him over the roof of the car. “You don’t mention this again, and I’ll forget you told me about your Ghost Hunters marathons, deal?”
“I think my house is haunted.”
“Addison, it is,” a brief pause and a rustle of blankets, ”four in the morning.”
“I still think my house is haunted.”
“They would’ve told you if anyone died in your house. Go to sleep.”
“I can’t. My house - ”
“Is haunted. Got it. Let me unpack my Ghostbusters costume and I’ll be right over.”
“Do not mock the haunting.”
“You woke me up at four in the morning to tell me your house is haunted. I’m allowed to mock.”
She makes a face at the phone and huffs when he hangs up on her. Something thuds upstairs and she looks up at the ceiling. “Go away!”
***
“I’m being punished,” she says, opening the brownstone door for Mark. “I cheated on my husband and he left and now some pissed off, jilted spirit has moved into the guest room to make me feel even worse about this.”
Mark looks at her sideways. He didn’t bring a proton pack, but he did bring coffee. He yawns and gives Addison a cup. “I don’t think that’s how ghosts work, Red.” He’s still in his pajamas, though he did throw on a sweatshirt.
She pauses mid-sip and then has to quickly swallow before she burns her tongue. “Since when are you a ghost expert?”
“I watch a lot of Ghost Hunters,” he says, defensively.
Addison raises an eyebrow. A few months ago, she would’ve said that they need to get him a girl. But now she is that girl (sort of, strangely) and, thud. She points upward. “See? Fix it.”
Mark squeezes his temples with his thumb and forefinger. It’s probably just pipes and Addison having a Living Alone moment. He yawns again. “Got any Ghost-B-Gone?”
“Mark!”
He sets the cup of coffee down on the end table and opens his palms in defeat. “Going.” He heads upstairs.
Addison leans against the back of the couch and crosses her arms and shrinks further into her hoodie. She’s less freaked out than she thought she would be, probably because she’s only heard the ghost banging around and it hasn’t actually said anything, but she really wants to go to bed. Mark’s yawning is contagious and she covers one of her own. She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and wishes that she’d thought about socks before she ran downstairs when the noises started.
Mark appears at the top of the stairs. He’s smirking.
“Well?”
“It’s a squirrel,” he says, descending the stairs. The smirk turns into a grin. “There was a window open in the hall, I guess the squirrel climbed in from the tree and couldn’t figure out how to get out.”
Now she’s grossed out. “So it took up residence in my bathroom?”
He shrugs and finishes his coffee. “I’ll get a trap for it in the morning. And a screen for the window.”
“What am I supposed to do tonight?” This is what she gets for living across from Central Park.
He doesn’t point out that both of them have to be at work in an hour and a half, so tonight is almost over anyway. “Keep the bathroom door shut.”
She doesn’t say anything, just looks at him in exasperation, exhaustion, and general disbelief.
“You can stay with me until we get rid of it.”
“Thank you.” She goes upstairs to pack a small bag now that she knows her ghost is really a common rodent. She glares at the closed bathroom door on her way to her closet. The squirrel scratches at the door. She hurries.
Mark follows her out of the house and down the steps to where he’s parked his car. “I can’t believe you thought a squirrel was a vindictive spirit.”
“Okay,” she stops with her hand on the door and points at him over the roof of the car. “You don’t mention this again, and I’ll forget you told me about your Ghost Hunters marathons, deal?”
“Deal.”
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