“I don’t want him in my house no more. Tell him to move on,” the old woman, 90 or 200 years old, exclaims. She stands about four foot six. She is kind, with early signs of dementia, and I almost feel guilty about ripping her off.
“My partner and I are going to venture into the basement. Now, promise me that no matter what you hear, you will not go down to the basement.”
The old woman gives me her word and a signed contract. Kyle, my ‘clairvoyant’ partner and I unload a bunch of technical crap, special effects, speakers, strobe lights. But truly, it doesn’t matter what you show these old people. Show them an ipod, tell them it’s an energy reader, a storm trooper laser toy is a demon killer, and a bong is a spirit catcher.
You see, these ‘ghosts’ I’m hired to remove are usually all in their head, and occasionally the result of some electrical problem or plumbing maybe. Sometimes, squirrels. I fix the problem, if it actually exists or not. I get paid much more than any plumber or exterminator.
The funny thing is, people actually think that their ghost is gone after we leave. We get countless thank you letters saying, “I can feel that the presence has left my home.” Meanwhile, all Kyle and I do is get high, throw on some flashing lights, high powered fans, mess around with PhotoShop pictures and bam, we earn a whole weeks salary in a couple of hours. Sometimes we fake injuries. People give us more money this way.
My ex-girl friend calls it stealing. Kyle the clairvoyant calls it an eccentric business, and I just call it a living. A dirty, scummy, rotten, lucrative living…I won’t lie, I love it. Really, we’re no different than a cars salesman, a politician, or a corporate business man. We help and hurt while making a profit. Honest living is an oxymoron.
“Dude,” Kyle says, “You ready for some sick sound effects?”
This is a story I wrote years ago. There's actually several more parts of it, but this was the original, and I always liked it.
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