Feral Charms

Feral Charms
by Pat A Physics

There are two ghosts and a banshee in a foyer perspiring spirit sweat into
an old grey couch.  Since they are invisible,  the sweat stains that are beginning to
spread beneath them are the only visual any mortal would be able to detect.
They call people on the phone and tell them how much money they could be
making for other people with their life insurance.  People who hang up on them
again and again are numerous, but they persist.  They used to call me up on the
phone and talk about how much money everyone lost.  There was a whispering
voice that seemed so close to being in my head.  It would repeat, “Where’s my money?”
I couldn’t believe it.  Two ghosts and a banshee!  They treated me as if
I were a ruined failure.  This strange tinge of contempt was there in their
conversations with me.  I felt like they were going to slap me in the face with a
cold dead hand.  “Just phone every little thing in. Phoning while eating, boy!”
I would set the phone down on my coffee table and still hear their angry rasps.
Those cranky, spectral phone calls made me sweat, too.  I decided to get into
the insurance business and start discussing plans with them.  I told them that I
would do them a favor once in a while. Jesus, they would not let up!   When
they would call, I could sense them shifting in their chairs and getting more
upset.  Bad breath and smart remarks were flying in this prison cell of a foreign
living room.  A laughing banshee, snickering  with a desperate, sarcastic bunch.
Everything started sounding like a VHS tape with tracking issues.  I got up and
tried to drink water- nothing worked.  I would just have to take my life and try
to wander up to their house.  I would knock and tell them I had no home.  I
would practice being the homeless ghoul whose swagger overcame multiple
obstacles and brought me into their inner sanctum.  I would start making
phone calls also.  We would become a call center for the deceased policy


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