Spooks, Haunts, and Spirit's! Oh My!

Tarka:
 
Jill crept through the dusty basement, each footstep lifting out a puff of 
dust as she darted between boxes and old Christmas decorations. She kept her 
eyes open to any hit of shadows that were where they shouldn't be or that 
mild afterglow that some spirit's leave behind when they move.

 
The words of her client ran thought her mind as she looked for the haunting. 
"Let me tell the tail of my fathers kin for his blood run through my vanes. 
No mans been born that could best his many pains. He lives in the cellar now."
 
So, for midnight tonight, she was under an old house looking for a ghost so 
that she could talk with it and console the lost creatures restless spirit. 
Like her business card said, physiologist for the dead.
 
Adara:
 
Suddenly, Jill heard a terrible moan that seemed to eminate from the very 
walls of the house.  It seemed to be speaking words, although they were 
unintelligible.  "Spirit, I come to bring your peace, that you may finally 
rest in the afterlife."  
 
The moaning began again, and a cold, chilling wind blew throughout the room.  
All became deathly still.  Then, a deep voice said...
 
Cye:
 
"boogidy! boogdiy! Boogidy!", and from the shadows walked the deadly Disco 
Zomibe! Jill screamed in horror at the tackly clothing as the soundtrack from 
'Satuday NIght fever' echoed througout the room.
 
Scandal:
 
Shortly Jill recovered herself with a good deal of embarassment. "Boogidy! 
Boogidy! and Disco?! You're kidding right?"
 
"Wellll yeah," the ghost replied after a bit of a pause. "It's just.... do 
you know how many two-bit psychics junior has sent after me with this we 
bring you peace garbage?"
 
Jill looked at the ghost curiously as he continued. "The truth is death was 
rather rude and I just wasn't done yet. So I threw 'im out!"
 
WalksFar:
 
"But . . . you ARE dead!" Jill pointed out, aiming an index finger directly 
at the ghost.
 
"Yeah, so what?  It was the best thing to ever happen.  Now I can do my thing 
and no one can stop me.  Junior, there, hasn't the balls to do anything.  He 
calls you guys in to oust me.  Now I listen to disco all day, do my grooves 
and you can do yer worst, but I AIN'T leavin'!"
 
Jill crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the ghost.  "You may think 
so, but every ma . . . ghost has his weakness.  I will find it and you WILL . 
. . go . . . to whatever reward it is you deserve!
 
"In a pig's eye!  Hey, baby, ya wanna dance?"  The ghost made a few moves.  
Disco music boomed into the basement.  "Cha! Cha! Cha!"
 
Tarka:
 
The music blared out around the dust raising it all into the air and from 
somewhere a globe drops down from above and the rythmic hip moving beat of 
Staying Alive soaks into the very fabric of time all around Jill, so that 
even she found her feet tabbing to the beat and her hips thrusting side to 
side. "Staying Alive, Staying Alive, Ah oh Uh!
 
Jill now had to shout to make herself heard... started on her first tactic to 
get into the mind of this particular ghost. "I have always liked Seseme 
Streat Fever myself. On the best could dance to My Rubber Ducky. Even though 
it is so totally gay. Your not much of a disco ghost unless you can really 
dance.
 
Adara:
 
The disco ghost suddenly stopped the music.  "I can dance..." he says, 
sounding almost hurt.  "I don't believe you." cried Jill, hoping the ghost 
would take her bait.  As luck would have it, he did.  "Alright then," the 
ghost boomed.  "I challenge you to a disco dance contest.  When I win, you 
leave this house forever, and ensure that no one else ever tries to interfere 
with my disco partying again!"  
 
"And if I win?" queried Jill.  "_If_ you win...I will leave this house 
forever, and take up residence in the dull, classical world of heaven."  
"You're on!  And you may go first..."
 
Cye:
 
"But first..", the ghost said. "We need a apporiate dance floor!", and he 
snapped his fingers and the wood floor foled back revelaling a 70's dance 
floor with the approriate flashing lights and disco ball. "We also need 
judges for out dance constest! Appear Judges!"
 
Scandal:
 
A great light flashed and sitting in three chairs were John Travolta, Jerry 
Garcia, and Martin Short.
Jill raised an eyebrow. "Odd choice of judges," she commented.
 
WalksFar:
 
"Then I have choices for judges as well," said Jill.  
Be my guest," said the ghost with a smirk.  
 
"I call Arthur Murray, dance instructor extraordinaire," said Jill.  "Let the 
contest begin."
 
Tarka:
 
Ted was peeking into the room from between the floorboards and growned, this 
was the same thing that happened to the thrid person that they had hired. 
Going into a dance contest with his grandfather. "Damn that old man, playing 
music night and day for years. I can't even sell this place as all the 
investers are scared away. Damn him!"
 
He thought for a while and then smiled... this time would be different... he 
would see if he could replaced the stacked judges with himself, he eyed them 
and thought to himself... he could take the place of John Travolta. "This 
time, you will be owned you old man."
 
Adara:
 
While these thoughts were going on, the disco ghost began strutting his 
stuff.  He was quite, good, as was to be expected.  The judges, in particular,-
 were really getting into it, swaying and jiving with the music.  
 
The ghost finished with the splits, as the judges broke into wild applause.  
"It seems we already know who will be the winner." laughed the ghost.  "But 
if you still want to try it, girlie, go ahead..."
 
Cye:
 
Meanwhile Ted was sneaking up behind John Travolta ready to bash him with a 
tire iron. He slowly and carefully stalked closer and closer to John 
Travlota.. As he got closer to John Travlota he noticed something odd about 
him and that was..
 
Scandal:
 
... kind of irrelevant when a large beefy hand was coming down on his 
shoulder like a sack full of lead. Ted felt the tire iron being torn from his 
grasp. He twisted to see a huge guy in a white suit holding him in a viselike 
grip. Apparently the old man's ghost had equipped the "club" with bouncers as 
well as the other trappings of a disco dive.
 
WalksFar:
 
Ted was dragged unceremoniously screaming and kicking from the room.
The contest began.  The judges demanded Olympic rules.  One dancer at a time.
 
Ted's grandfather was sure he would win.  However, Jill had one final 
stipulation. . . .
 
Tarka:
 
Jill watched all this with a keen eye... slowly she starts to smile at the 
look of the judges and the ghost. He didn't know that she had been taking 
dance lessense sense she was 3 years old... and she could vogue on top of 
disco... it was her turn now to play at it. "Gentalman of the Jury.... For my 
first dance I shell dance to the tune of the cookies monsters... C is for 
Cookie."
 
The thundering roll of the song starts to blare through the room and she uses 
a few limbering up vogue moves to start with... then really gets into it.. 
.mimmicking the dancing in her childhood favorte. Flashdance. Magicly a chair 
and chain appear on the stage floor.
 
Scandal:
 
Jill danced energetically as everyone's favorite monster belted out the 
lyrical 'C is for cookie! Dat good enough for me! Oh!' and around again. She 
dance around the chair with a bag of cookies in one hand. As she twirled into 
the chair she took a mouthful of cookies and pulled the chain drenching 
herself in milk and finishing off the cookies! The judges rose from their 
chairs and stood applauding as dripping milk she made her bows and strode 
from the floor.
 
WalksFar:
 
The judges held up their numbers.  10.0, 9.8, 10.0, 9.9.
 
the ghost paled for a moment then set his jaw.  "All right, my turn.  Get 
ready to be blown away!"
 
Arcturax:
 
The ghost saunters center stage, the chair moving away of it's own accord, 
the milk spilling through the floorboards until the stage is again clean.  He 
snaps his fingers and the disco ball puts out a mix of orange and purple, 
casting light images of bats, spiders and other creepy things on the walls 
and floor.  The ghost then shimmered, his ethereal clothing changing so that 
he was now wearing
 
Tarka:
 
A all in one silver jumpsuit with flashy gaudy and rather horrible rinestones.-
.. his hair slicked back with greese untell it was almost dripping down his 
forhead like sweat and he struck a pose, hips thrust forward showing off the 
bulge in his pants... "Alright... put on Staying Alive and run it twice!"
 
The rythmic sounds did starts and he legs started to dance with a twist... a 
turn... and a snap of his fingers and a snap of his greesed hair.... spraying 
little drips of it everywhere... he starts to to dance and gyrate his hips... 
making sure to really show off for Adara while he is at it. "Baby... you know 
you want it." THen... and only then... did a most horrible thing happen about 
halfway through the song... only he didn't notice it. The edge of his topa 
lifted at the edge... the glue having been wore loose by his ghostly sweat.
 
Adara:
 
The toupe fell off with one wild head jerk and landed right in front of the 
judges.  Everyone in the room gasped!  "He's not a ghost!"  cried one of the 
judges.  "He's a..."
 
Scandal:
 
"Yeah. A what?" Travolta says to Martin Short, while Jerry comments, "It's 
pretty clear now that what looked like it might have been some kind of 
counterculture is, in reality, just the plain old chaos of undifferentiated 
weirdness."
 
Arthur Murray chips in with, "What we have is a poor man who was so traumatize-
d by the death of disco that he felt th need to be a ghost too. Who I might 
add is a fairly good dancer besides."
 
WalksFar:
 
"Yes, but . . . the contest . . . we have an entrant who is fraudulent.  What 
do we do about that?" asked Travolta.
"We do what we always do, we have to throw him out."
The old man sputtered.  "Not fair!  Not fair!"
 
Arcturax:
 
However before the bouncers can advance on the old man, the toupee suddenly 
skitters towards Travolta and with a leap, attaches to his face!  Travolta 
collapses thrashing on the floor as the other judges try to pull it off.
 
Everyone is soon joined in, pulling on the greasy slippery hair, and finally, 
it pops off, ripping away a mask in the process.  "Look!" Jill cried, "That's 
not John Travolta, it's L. Ron Hubbard!"

Tarka:
 
"That think! That think! Pushed something down my throat! I think it layed 
eggs in me!" L Ron seemed livid with rage... Jill just watched with a smirk.
 
The the least you deserver, getting an alian wang stuffed down you throat. 
I'm sure that they will hatch really soon and doom the world to distruction. 
Quick! Send him to space!
  
Everyone staired at Jill cause no one had remember the girl for such a long 
time. Arthur Murray looked at her. "Who are you again ma'am?
 
Adara:
 
Standing in front of the judges, Jill began to peel the skin off of her face, 
revealing none other than...Sylvia Brown, famous psychic!  Suddenly, a myriad 
of TV cameras appear from the shadows as a black man with a gleaming bald 
head begins to speak.  "I'm Montel Williams, and welcome to the show.  Today, 
our guest once again is Sylvia Browne...
 
Scandal:
 
In the background someone turns over the wig and discovers that it's actually 
a robot with a pill dispenser in it. Meanwhile, Sylvia is saying, "Of course 
as soon as I entered the house I knew there was no real ghost here. The 
psychic energies were all wrong. Much more the weirdo mad scientist vibe than 
the lost soul vibe."
Montel moves over to the old man holding the wig. "What's this?"
 
"Male pattern baldness for everyone!" the old man replied. "You'd all have 
known my pain! and I'd have gotten away with it too, if it hadn't been for 
that meddling psychic!"
 
Tarka:
 
The police arived an hour later and eveyrone was outside watching them 
handcuff grandpa. Ted was over by Ms Brown. "Ms Brown... why did my Grandpa 
do it? Why?
 
Well... that is simple Ted. His plan was to drive you away from the house... 
sense his ex-wife had left it to you and him to share. When he faked his own 
death and you regained the house he saw it as a way of getting the entired 
house for pennies on the dollar.
 
So that he could get full possesion of it and the families classic disco 
ball. Or didn't you notice that it was made of dimonds?
 
Ted looked stunded. "Wow! You are so good. Now that I have the whole thing 
I'm going to be rich!
 
Brown smirked. "Not really... sense he is alive... he actualy owns half the 
house again. You can't sell it... and because he was playing a ghose he 
atracted more. Now your home is 'really' haunted. Good luck with that!" Ms 
Browned Walksed off.
 
Epalog.
 
Two days later Grandpa Returned home to an unhappy Ted. Sense he half owned 
the home... the tresspassing charges didn't stick. "Hello Ted. I'm home! Time 
to Disco.