A Day in the Life of Ferdie
My reality check just bounced.
0715 Wake up screaming.
0716 Note the absence of axe murderers, poltergeists, or evil dead in my immediate vicinity. Stop screaming.
0725 Emerge from shower convinced the bar of soap is possessed. Chalk this up to lingering sleepiness.
0728 Ghost in the coffee pot.
0729 Discover the hanging light fixture in my kitchen cannot hold my body weight.
Mental note: Fix ceiling before landlord sees it.
0735 The Power of Christ compels many things, but not the spook in my carafe. Either that, or I'm just not
up to morning exorcisms. Forgo caffeine in favor of Orange Juice.
0738 Zuul in fridge.
0739 Forgo breakfast in favor of mad dash for safety.
Mental note: No more Token's Spirit Guide before bed.
0801 Arrive at work. Bob notes my tardiness.
0802 Debate merits of explaining
culinary possessions while catching my breath. Decide against it; he'll probably just think I'm talking about the new office Cappacino maker.
0805 The new office Cappacino maker that is already broken.
0806 Volunteer for coffee and bagel run. After all, I've run fifteen blocks already, and still haven't had
0853 Return from coffee & bagel run convinced habitual Starducks patrons are far scarier than normal
zombies. And that the kid running the frappacino machine is a vampire. Am tempted to share this with Bob, but he nearly takes my hand off
in his mad dive for the drink-holder, so I opt for a tactical retreat into my office instead.
0907 Nothing much on the email circuit. Cue up my voicemail and feed the mailer-daemon.
0913 Stop listening to voicemail. Unplug phone and place it in desk drawer. Contemplate just how a
banshee got my number, anyway.
0914 Decide I really don't want to know.
0920 Phone rings.
0921 Check that phone is still unplugged and in drawer.
0922 Phone still ringing.
0924 Decide to ignore it for now and work on my filing.
0953 Wander out into reception area to drop off finished cases and rustle up some Holy Water. Notice
squirrel sitting at reception desk. She says her name is Kimmie.
0954 Debate telling Kimmie what the turnover rate of the temps Bobetta keeps sending our office is. Decide
0958 Discover that someone has used my vial of Holy Water to water the plants. Strongly suspect Kimmie.
1005 Venture into Bob's office to discuss our current caseload and his Starducks tab.
1045 Meeting adjourns with phone call from Bobetta. Resign myself to my fate.
1047 Return to my office. Swear I can see shadows creeping along the edges of my vision.
1048 Wonder if perhaps I should be more concerned that my phone IS STILL RINGING.
1050 Answer it, against my better judgement.
1113 Announce that I am Going Out, Not That Anyone Cares, To See If I Can Locate a Downed Wire Over a Cemetery.
1115 Reflect that in most offices, such an announcement would have garnered far more of a response than "Okay."
1120 Call phone company from my cell to see if they've had any reports of service outages. Check these
against a map of the city. This is far easier to do outside, where the walls aren't oozing blood and Rorschak tests.
1143 Encounter diminuitive graying raven in faded gypsy regalia and cheap costume jewelry. She grabs at my
hands and gravely informs me that a spirit is hounding me. I reply that if she thinks it's only one spirit, she's a very poor psychic
medium indeed. She threatens to put a curse on me. I threaten to sic my ghosts on her. She retreats.
1145 It occurs to me that she might have been serious.
1146 It occurs to me that I was serious.
1157 Arrive at cemetery. Begin searching for graves near power lines.
1232 Get into argument with groundskeeper over Just What It Was I Thought I Was Doing, Anyway. Leave before
it gets nasty. Some people just don't know Shinto purification rites when they see them.
1240 Scarf down what purportedly was a hot dog. I've got my doubts.
1304 Return to office Iiwi is now manning the reception desk, insofar as sleeping atop a desk can be termed
"manning." Seems something large, hairy, and predominantly comprised of teeth came looking for me while I was out, and Kimmie went into
hysterics when it started gnawing on the drywall. Some people just can't handle the occassional odd foreign custom, I suppose.
1323 Bob emerges from his office and announces that we have a Case.
1356 Iiwi suddenly remembers she has an appointment. I can't shake the feeling this has something to do
with the discovery of our quarry, but Redbird's already out of shouting range and I've got twelve hundred pounds of razor-clawed Death to
worry about anyway.
1543 Offer up a prayer of thanks to the gods of adrenaline.
1621 Fluffernutter is returned to his rightful owner. Decline the ringmaster's invitation to sign on as
The World's Fastest Clown And Tiger Handler.
1700 We return to the office in the interest of making Bob put that promise to ask just exactly what
kind of pet before accepting any more "lost pet" cases into writing. Declare that that is the absolute last time I'm helping
fish a tiger out of a tree.
1701 Firmly state that I mean it this time.
1702 Ignore the laughter.
1833 Arrive home. Take shower. Consider buying stock in Advil.
1840 Emerge from shower and do not see a vampire in the mirror. Whip around in panic to confront the vampire
I didn't see in the mirror, accidentally staking him with the loofah-on-a-stick I categorically deny owning.
1855 Attempts to determine how a vampire got in uninvited end with the discovery of my landlord's ID amongst
1857 Idly wonder if it's considered socially acceptable to slay one's landlord if he's a vampire.
1900 Call Sis and ask. She assures me that it's legally impossible to kill what's not alive.
1903 Decide that while it's oddly comforting that we can discuss things like this seriously and without
either party secretly arranging to have the other committed, it's also somewhat disconcerting that her advice to dispose of the ashes
off-site and wipe my prints off his ID is also serious.
2057 Armed with a dime-store urn, I venture to the harbor and begin innocently scattering ashes. I even
think I pulled off the accidentally-drop-the-empty-urn-and-kick-its-pieces-off-the-pier bit convincingly, though it took a bit of
shifting around to get my ID to fall out of my pocket when I knelt to sweep up the ashes.
2058 Studiously avoid all speculation as to whether or not Sis has been spending too much time around
2201 Almost get mugged on the way home, but then they peg me as "that psycho-cop's
brother" and back away like I'm contagious or something.
2232 Arrive home to find a warm dinner and chilled wine set out for me. Decide that perhaps a ghost in
the apartment isn't all bad.
2233 Provided she stays out of the bathroom.
2347 Am suddenly deeply suspicious of that incident with the soap.