Ghosts are real. I don't say this because "Paranormal Activity" caused me to lose sleep for three-and-a-half months - I'm so excited for the sequel because then I can pee my pants when anything moves at night - or because I have actually seen a ghost. But my friend has, and I believe him because life is more fun that way. For the purposes of this column, we shall assume that fun and fear are closely related.
To give a bit of background to the paranormal circus that is our house, I should begin by explaining that I am fortunate enough to have that rare breed of friend who likes to break every rule you set for yourself, e.g., do not tamper with the supernatural or invite the undead for tea. It would seem that the doors of our house are wide-open to the paranormal world. And the paranormal world is much obliged to enter and throw down like it's 1949.
A select set of my friends play with a Ouija board as though it were Monopoly. I'd much rather have a PB&J, watch episode of "Mythbusters" that I've seen 18 times and call it a night. But not so with my friends. They prefer the supernatural.
It all began one night between 3:13 and 4:05 a.m. on the black carpet of our living room. The questions started as mildly speculative. "What is your name?" "Where does your family spend Spring Break?" "If you could be any zoo creature, which would you be and why?" The Ouija responded accordingly. Name: Chad. Date of death: March 12, 1950. Preferred zoo creature: unknown.
After the seemingly paranormal flickering, burning out and spontaneous relighting of a candle on the coffee table, the group became a little skittish. Either this was supernatural or it was the liquor playing cute little mind games. My roommate's solution was an acutely logical one: "Blow out the candle. Then the ghost won't be able to see us." Well said. But we all know ghosts have laser vision.
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