More Fiends from My Sock Drawer

For whatever reason, my sock drawer has become a repository for ghosts and other similar spirits.   One of the creepiest is Trevor.  He's this seven year old who broke his neck falling out of his bed one night and now he hangs around my bedroom with his big box of black crayons, drawing pictures of weeping children and dead trees.  It's so depressing the other ghosts have taken to avoiding him, even referring to him as Cheerful Charlie in the sort of sneery way only the undead can pull off.   And if that's not bad enough, he doesn't know he's dead, so I have to constantly tip-toe around his condition (or lack thereof) asking him stupid things like how his day at school went when I know perfectly well it’s the weekend.

Meet The Fiends in My Sock Drawer

Did you know there's a condition where a person's organs are on the opposite side of the body?  It's true, it's called Situs Invertus, and it comes in very handy if you're in a gunfight.  Or at least that's what Willem McGee told me.  He's a gunslinger, you see, and thanks to his wrongly placed organs, he's survived over a dozen duels, suffering only shattered ribs and punctured lungs when anyone else would have had their hearts exploded.   I didn't believe him at first, but then he showed me his chest, and let me tell you, there's nothing quite as odd as seeing a man's right nipple where his left nipple should be.

Ghost Under my Bed

There’s a ghost under my bed
Of a boy
He’s twelve, I think
Or at least he used to be
I thought it was a rat at first
Until I heard him giggle
He was just lying there
Wide eyed and pale
“You shouldn’t be here,” I said
“Go away.”
That’s the thing with ghosts
They never listen
It’s been six weeks now
In two days it will be seven
Most of the time he’s quiet
But if take out my earplugs I can hear him
Breathing, mostly
In a pattern eerily similar to my own
The truth is: he scares me
Not because he’s bad
But because he’s a ghost
“Leave,” I say, “Or I’ll have you exorcised”
I’m only bluffing, though
The poor fella’s already died once
He doesn’t need to experience it again
So in the meantime
Until I figure out what to do
I’ve bought some comics and a flashlight
And slid them under the bed
Wrapped in a map to my sister’s house