So last night I was putting together my new Ikea bookcase, it looked really cute in the catalogue so I ordered it, I think it was called the Solange [seriously, where do they come up with these names?]... anywho... I was just finishing up when lights started to dim and flicker and I heard the low pained moaning coming from the basement. I grabbed the broom and rapped the handle on the floor.
"Will you shut up! I swear, Christian Charles Philip Bale, if I have to come down there!" I threatened. He obviously knew I meant business, as he quieted up right proper.
The lights continued to dim and flicker as a ghostly image began to manifest before me. I reached for a weapon, grabbing the thing closest to me, the Allen Wrench from my Solange Bookcase toolkit. I gripped it stoutly, holding it like a sextagonal shiv.
"Who are you spirit, the power of Frau compels you!"
"Tis I, the ghost of Mickey Rourke's Face," the spirit howled.
"Oh shit," I said to myself, "this is some bad Juju!" I quickly dropped my improvised shiv and grabbed the phone, ringing up my spiritual adviser, Miss Cleo. She promised to rush right over.
I distracted the spirit with a rousing game of Stratego while we waited. He was actually quite nice, despite his sad history of being severely beaten and abused. Three hours later, Miss Cleo finally rolls up, smelling of Nightrain and Patchouli.
"Go into the light, spirit, it is time for you to rest now," she then began chanting in some unknown language, well that or she was just slurring her words so badly. The lights then brightened, flashed off and then back on again. The Ghost of Mickey Rourke's Face still hanging in the air, all weathered and worn.
Then, from the darkened hallway, a cry echoed out, "EEEE-HHHH, Sha-mon...!" as another spirit moonwalked by.
I squealed with delight, after all, I did have tickets to one of the London shows. "Do 'Rock With You,'" I called out to the spirit.
"Sorry," the Ghost of Michael Jackson said, "I'm only doing stuff from 'Invincible.'"
"Nooooooooooooooooooo!" I cried out into the dark night as he began singing "Break of Dawn." Haunted by the Ghost of MJ and I don't even get to hear fucking "Off The Wall." Totally. Lame...
