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The Great Ghostly Gaffe
In the supernatural realm, Halloween was the equivalent of the Oscars. Ghosts worldwide trained all year for the one night they could actually make an impression on the living. Every specter wanted to be the most memorable haunt of the year. This year, though, there was a buzz about a new contender: Gary.
Gary was not your typical ghost. For starters, he wasn’t that old. In the spectral world, most ghosts were centuries old, boasting tales of ancient curses and dark mysteries. Gary, however, had been a stand-up comedian before an unfortunate incident with a rubber chicken, a unicycle, and a stage trap door. It wasn't the fall that did him in, it was the laughter.
On Halloween night, Gary tried his hand at haunting. His first stop was a teenage Halloween party. As a few dared each other to summon spirits with a Ouija board, Gary jumped in. Instead of the usual cryptic messages, the board spelled out, “Why did the ghost go to the party? For the BOOs.” The teenagers stared in confusion, then burst into laughter. This wasn’t the spooky vibe they were going for.
Next, he visited a haunted house attraction. As people entered a dim room with creepy dolls, Gary possessed one. Instead of the expected jump scare, the doll started a tap dance routine, top hat and all. The visitors were more entertained than scared.
Gary even tried the classic "mirror scare." But when a young woman recited "Bloody Mary" three times, instead of a ghastly face, she saw Gary holding a sign: “Out to lunch. Would you accept a joke instead?”
By the end of the night, word had spread throughout the town. People weren’t locking their doors hoping to keep spirits out; they were hoping Gary would pop in for a ghostly giggle.
At the ghostly council (which is like an HOA but for spirits), senior specters were in an uproar. Ethel, a Victorian-era ghost, huffed, “This is not how we conduct ourselves!” Mortimer, a headless horseman from the 18th century, added, “Indeed! It's utterly headless... I mean, heedless!”
But amidst the complaints, a voice piped up, “Isn’t our job to be memorable? To be talked about? Gary has done that.” It was Phyllis, the friendly ghost from the diner down the lane. “Plus, it’s nice to hear laughter instead of screams for a change.”
The council grumbled but had to concede. After all, Gary had become the talk of the spectral town and the human one.
The next Halloween, things were different. Alongside the spooky specters and ghastly ghouls, there were ghostly comedians, spectral singers, and eerie entertainers. Halloween had transformed from a night of horror to one of hilarity.
As for Gary? He started a new show, "The Ghostly Giggle Hour," broadcasted from the spectral realm into the dreams of the living. And every Halloween, he’d make his rounds, ensuring that the holiday was filled with as much laughter as there were chills.
In the end, Gary proved that sometimes, the best way to be remembered isn’t by being the scariest but by being the one who brought joy—even from the other side.
© Magnus Stalhart
Gary was not your typical ghost. For starters, he wasn’t that old. In the spectral world, most ghosts were centuries old, boasting tales of ancient curses and dark mysteries. Gary, however, had been a stand-up comedian before an unfortunate incident with a rubber chicken, a unicycle, and a stage trap door. It wasn't the fall that did him in, it was the laughter.
On Halloween night, Gary tried his hand at haunting. His first stop was a teenage Halloween party. As a few dared each other to summon spirits with a Ouija board, Gary jumped in. Instead of the usual cryptic messages, the board spelled out, “Why did the ghost go to the party? For the BOOs.” The teenagers stared in confusion, then burst into laughter. This wasn’t the spooky vibe they were going for.
Next, he visited a haunted house attraction. As people entered a dim room with creepy dolls, Gary possessed one. Instead of the expected jump scare, the doll started a tap dance routine, top hat and all. The visitors were more entertained than scared.
Gary even tried the classic "mirror scare." But when a young woman recited "Bloody Mary" three times, instead of a ghastly face, she saw Gary holding a sign: “Out to lunch. Would you accept a joke instead?”
By the end of the night, word had spread throughout the town. People weren’t locking their doors hoping to keep spirits out; they were hoping Gary would pop in for a ghostly giggle.
At the ghostly council (which is like an HOA but for spirits), senior specters were in an uproar. Ethel, a Victorian-era ghost, huffed, “This is not how we conduct ourselves!” Mortimer, a headless horseman from the 18th century, added, “Indeed! It's utterly headless... I mean, heedless!”
But amidst the complaints, a voice piped up, “Isn’t our job to be memorable? To be talked about? Gary has done that.” It was Phyllis, the friendly ghost from the diner down the lane. “Plus, it’s nice to hear laughter instead of screams for a change.”
The council grumbled but had to concede. After all, Gary had become the talk of the spectral town and the human one.
The next Halloween, things were different. Alongside the spooky specters and ghastly ghouls, there were ghostly comedians, spectral singers, and eerie entertainers. Halloween had transformed from a night of horror to one of hilarity.
As for Gary? He started a new show, "The Ghostly Giggle Hour," broadcasted from the spectral realm into the dreams of the living. And every Halloween, he’d make his rounds, ensuring that the holiday was filled with as much laughter as there were chills.
In the end, Gary proved that sometimes, the best way to be remembered isn’t by being the scariest but by being the one who brought joy—even from the other side.
© Magnus Stalhart
