“So many ghosts,” he thought every day when he got home from working at the Mill.
“So many ghosts,” he thought every evening as he took his daily soak.
“So many ghosts,” he muttered to himself as he fell asleep.
Marty had to deal with ghosts every second he was at home.
They flew in front of his face when he tried to watch tv.
“Go away, ghosts,” he would say, “I can’t see the tv.”
They thumped on the wall when he was trying to talk to his lady friend on the phone.
“Stop thumping, ghosts,” he would say, “I can’t hear my lady friend.”
They moaned in the attic when he was listening to the news.
“Quiet down, ghosts,” he would say, “I can’t hear my favorite anchorman.”
They wailed in the basement when he was reading the paper.
“Shush up, ghosts,” he would say, “I can’t concentrate on the facts.”
They ripped open holes to the Hell Dimension when he was watering the plants.
“Keep Abezethibou out of here, ghosts,” he would say, “Abezethibou eats my plants.”
All morning and all evening it was ghosts, ghosts, ghosts. So irritating!
“Fine,” Marty said, “have it your way.”
He went into his garden and dug up allllllllll of the bodies.
Marty arranged the corpses around the dining room table.
“Eat!” he said to the bodies.
It was a fine Halloween dinner.
Three days later, neighbors complained to the police about the horrible smell emanating from Marty’s house. Upon entering, they found hundreds of skunks.