Our Ghost is a Dick

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic


I doubt if this will ever be seen as great literature.

Submitted: January 21, 2018

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Submitted: January 21, 2018

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The Hotel Ghost is a Dick

“You're saying there is an actual, honest to God ghost in this hotel?” Jonathan, our new General Manager asked. Asked with a touch of suspicion, as if we were having him on for an initiation rite.

“Yes”, I replied, “and you don't have to believe that. But if you don't believe that, you're going to see some things around here that otherwise just won't make sense.”

“So what does this ghost do? Does it terrify people?”

“Not really”, I replied, “mostly it just does what you don't want it to do. Or what it thinks you don't want it to do. It's really just kind of a dick.”

“An example?” Asked Johnathan.

“When we had the wedding party in last week, we asked it to be nice and it short sheeted the bed. And we can't have punch bowl at our functions because a turd is guaranteed to turn up in it. A hundred percent of the time. So I put a punch bowl out on the back patio and told the ghost, there, there's your punch bowl. Have at it. And the next morning that same punch bowl was in the middle of our breakfast line with not one, but two turds floating in it.”

“Does it have a name?”

“Not really”, I said, “after it put finger prints all over a newly painted wall, the maintenance guys started to call it the shit monster, but it didn't like that.”

“How do you know?”

“An avalanche of Code 13's. Clogged toilets. It's the job our maintenance guys hate the most. Every toilet in the hotel backed up one day. Those guys were pumping plungers for twelve hours. And the words 'Beware the Shit Monster' were found written across the white board where they post their billable hours.”

“So you have no control of this … ah …. ghost?”

“No”, I said, “it can be placated.”

“How?”

“ Dirty jokes. Or clean ones that are really weird. Like that dead parrot joke I told at the bar last night.”

Johnathan chuckled. “No family style jokes?”

“Maybe if they're really twisted. But in general no. And no jokes that it's already heard. It'll get you for that. Pee on your chair, or something.”

“So what are you doing about tonight? I mean, for the convention.” Johnathan continued.

“I've got an old Richard Prior CD”, I replied. “I'm going to set it a player and screen in the boiler room downstairs. That's where it hangs out.”

“I definitely want to see this”, replied Johnathan. “Can we do it now?”

“Yeah, I replied. Its about time anyway.”

I radioed Max the maintenance guy and he came with a cart that held the player, the flat screen and a jewel case with Richard Prior. We took the elevator to the lower level parking garage and Max opened the boiler room door with his key. We turned on the lights to get positioned, and then cut them again. The only light in the room was from the boiler flame through a tiny hole.

“Ghost”, I began, “How do you fit five comedians in a VW?”

A quizzical noise emitted from the boiler. A person not familiar with the situation would not have noticed it.

“Two in the front, two in the back and Richard Prior in the ashtray.”

Hollow laughter rang from the boiler.

“OK, now we've got a convention coming tonight and I want you to behave. I know how you hate that so I've brought you a Richard Prior CD to watch while it's going on. It has a bunch of his shows on it. Kind of stuff you like.”

Another quizzical noise from the boiler.

“Yeah, we'll sit it up right here and you can watch it. But if you shit on us, this is the last time we get you anything like this.”

The boiler flame seemed to make an “uh huh” noise.

Max pulled over a small table and set up the the CD player and flat screen. We turned it on and left. The evening passed without incident.

It was August and the summer season was over, and the winter season would not arrive until mid November. During these periods, the owners would rent to whomever had a buck and could fill up a bunch of rooms. And, preferably, throw a banquet. And maybe rent a couple of convention rooms during the day to boot.

And every year, with a buck in hand, arrived the infamous Sigma Alpha Tau fraternity. The worst of the breed. Drunken, snotty rich kids who would threaten to tell their dads on you for anything they didn't like. We had to take a substantial damage deposit from them and we usually kept most of it. Security from the resort stood at each entrance to their annual ball to block entry to those too inebriated for civil society. Amazingly, they managed to splash all of the water out of our two jacuzzis during the daytime hours.

But their real specialty, however, was barfing in drawers. After their stay, each drawer in every room and condo that had been occupied had to be checked and, if necessary, taken to the back of the property and hosed out. There was even one heroic incident of barf on the ceiling, but thankfully this was and isolated incident.

We had been planning to refuse to host their event for years, but each year the alternative had been to sit empty, and the owners would not stand for that.

The big Friday morning arrived and they checked in. By 4:00 PM both Jacuzzis were half empty, the “No Glass Allowed” area of the pool deck was carpeted with glass beer bottles and what wasn't covered with beer bottles was covered with bathing suits, discarded shirts, sunglasses, lotion bottles and just about anything else one might bring to the pool area.

By 5:00 PM, the group's dates were in the rooms and condos prepping for the night's annual banquet. The male members were in the lobby drunkenly singing a song about female genitalia that snapped shut like a clam. The banquet itself was a drunken affair, but the known presence of security prevented food fights and such behavior.

And so it went for two more days. I had made no effort to placate the ghost that weekend feeling that his antics would not be noticed. What fun is there in putting a turd in the punch bowl when one of the guests has already beat you to it?

After checkout, the damage was tallied up and the two representatives from the fraternity arrived at the front desk. “

“We have an itemized list here that comes to $2200 for the stay, but as usual, we'll retain $500 of the deposit until we can check all the drawers in the rooms. The rest will be immediately refunded.”

“That's fine”, the fraternity Vice President said. “But there's another matter. Otto would like to come with us. He says he doesn't like it here and you don't treat him very well.”

“Who is Otto?” I asked.

“Why, your ghost. He knows you. Didn't you know you had a ghost here?” And upon saying this, he held up a small beer cooler, “He's going to ride in here on the way back to the house.”

The cooler gave an affirmative rattle.

“Well”, said I, “It will be dull around here without him. But I suppose his happiness comes first.”

The two representatives from the fraternity nodded in agreement. And with this, the hotel ghost was carried out the front doors and loaded into the back of a new, but well dented up SUV.
 

 


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