Let’s toast those ghosts! (Trademark pending, all rights reserved.)
I decided to take matters into my own hands recently in an effort to protect the timid and terrified from the ghastly beasts that haunt our nightmares and whisper at us from the dark recesses of our homes.
It might have something to do with the fact that I’m a father now and I felt that at some point I’d like to stop shrieking like a schoolgirl anytime I hear something go bump in the night. Or maybe I’d like to walk out of work at 3 a.m. and not feel the urge to sprint to the front door when I hear something creak or an errant groan behind me.
So as a true American, I figured anything worth doing is worth getting paid well for and nothing says hard work like reality TV. I decided fake acting and manufactured circumstances were the most pragmatic avenue for my overactive imagination.
The first step for me to procure a reality television show was to showcase the exploits of the intrepid skeptic/researcher/scared-of-his-own-shadow ghost hunter (that’s me!) and a befuddled crew of meddling mystics, sassy psychics and angry academics. Too much alliteration? But ghosts literally love pedantic paragraphs. OK, I’ll stop.
I was actually the only person involved in this venture. Most of the mystics, psychics and academics refused to take my calls and those that did scared me more that the phantoms do.
And apparently producers of reality television actually expect the premise of the show to be “real.” Semantics …
Seeing as how I’d be alone amongst the living dead, I decided it was best to gather as much pseudo-technology as I could muster within my budgetary constraints.
With my trusty flashlight in hand, I headed out to do battle with ectoplasm-spewing spooks that only exist to torment the good people of our town!
Now what I didn’t know was that apparently ghosts don’t just hang out during the daytime.
Which I thought was inconvenient and a little bit inconsiderate on their part, seeing as I was really only trying to help them pass on to the “other side.” Which I can only assume means Vista or New Jersey. Somewhere else. Just not here.
Then I realized there’s no way in hell I was going to accomplish that on my own.
Yes, I was the snarktastically quixotic research adventurer that heroically discovered Betty, the Batiquitos Lagoon monster, in his spare time.
And I was the same distinguished gentleman who debunked the paranormal activity at Questhaven as barely graduated mouth-breathing Bro-cals with too much time on their hands.
Therefore, I thought it would be a good idea to start a society to prove just how gullible and superstitious we are as a species.
Feel free to tippity-tap your way over to
www.encinitasparanormal researchsociety.blogspot.com and share your stories of woe and dread with the rest of the screaming Mimi’s.
Who knows … we might even end up on television.
Filed Under: Doorman Diaries