My dear readers,

I return to you all with a lighter if slightly bewildered heart. S.A.U.C.E.’s new headquarters is indeed haunted. We have lived in a cycle of terror for nearly a month, using all the resources at our disposal to fight them off, and then running away in a panic until we recall that we have nowhere else to stay. This afternoon, however, our fortunes changed. One of the ghosts, a gaunt young boy by the name of Colin, arrived with a proposal for a truce. He passed Sorina Jones a translucent glowing sheet of paper, barely tangible enough to hold in her hand. It read thusly:

 

“Foolish mortals,

This is getting silly. You won’t leave, and while nothing would please us more than slaughtering you all, we don’t want to be saddled with your spirits forever. Also, as corporeal beings, you can do repairs and maintenance on the house. Here’s our offer.

If our conditions are met:

  1. We will allow the fireplace to successfully heat the house. Don’t come crying to us about any non-supernatural drafts. That’s your problem. There’s a hardware store twenty minutes away.
  2. We will stop fiddling with your sense of time. It’s only February 10, 2017. Are you glad? Disappointed? Unsure as to what to do with forty years’ worth of memories? Tough.
  3. We will (grudgingly) stop wailing obscenities in your ears at three in the morning. This is a big sacrifice for us. Your reactions are priceless! Oh man, we wish you could see how you look! What a bunch of dweebs!

Our conditions:

  1. Quit with the amateur ghostbusting, eh; you’re embarrassing yourselves.
  2. OMG WASH YOUR DISHES!
  3. We get free access to the old woman’s blog, Terrible Tarot. Cathy’s already written a couple of posts. It’s fun. Deal with it.”

 

I was flabbergasted. Access to Terrible Tarot? How could I maintain the integrity and thoroughness you my readers have come to expect? Before I could protest, this young “Cathy” ghost screamed so loud it shattered the window behind me and, I suspect, my eardrum.

“What,” she said to a dozen or more other ghosts, who quickly appeared before her with expressions of deep disapproval. She shrugged. “They didn’t sign it yet.”

With that, Ms Jones signed for all of us immediately. Tina and Ray Moretti are on their first trip to the local hardware store, where they intend to procure whatever we need to protect us from drafts and locate someone who can replace our broken window. I hope, though not out loud, that they also find a professional home exorcist with a decent Yelp review.

Who knows what kind of mischief these ghosts can make of this poor blog? Please take all that they say with a grain of salt, preferably salt blessed by a priest, priestess, rabbi, lama, shaman or Denny’s waitress.

Yours exhaustedly,

[NAME WITHHELD]

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