Ambient 06 - Going, Going, Gone

it being said. Remembered he’d kept the lid on while the girls were here but could be their gizmos put the quietus on him. Seemed like I was going to have to get used to these two moochers, but as long as their being around brought back the livelier pair, I could handle that. I’d started to take a final toke on the nubbin when he came up with a fresh line.
    Walter, he said. Help.
     

THREE
    Having old see-through tuning in on my nom de guerre and trying to make with the small talk like he’d cornered me at a party made me come down with one bad case of chicken pox, accent on the bird. Didn’t think it’d set a good precedent if I started letting ghosts get the upper hand, so after the first time he called for Philip Morris I went all tastee freeze on him, suspecting that if I made any kind of move he’d really start with the chitchat. Seemed to me the only way to play this was by going easy on the shuck and jive; tried pulling a maitre’d act instead, acting like he was trying to crash the list.
    »Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?«
    Walter.
    »Must be some confusion. I’m one of the Smith boys.«
    Help.
    »Kind of losing my patience here,« I said, the challenges of ethereal plane communication seriously messing with my head. »Who are you? You got a name? A handle? What’d your mom call you?«
    Now he threw the Silent Sam treatment on me. Seemed to be giving me the beady eye but it was hard to say for sure. I tried tiptoeing a little to the left to see if his look followed but it didn’t, he stared straight on like I was still there. I trotted behind him, and then popped up on the right. Not a glimmer of recognition in the boy.
    Walter.
    It came clear to me that even though he knew I was there and even had a grip on my monicker, the advantage was mine when it came to who knew where the other was hanging out. I leaned in a little closer to him but didn’t notice anything I ever read about in the ghost stories – where he dangled wasn’t colder than anywhere else in the place. I wasn’t feeling any vibes that I didn’t ordinarily feel; not a hair on my neck was even thinking about rising. Now that I had him under the microscope I saw he wasn’t giving me the beady eye; what I couldn’t see for sure was if he had eyes. Where they should have been there were just two black tunnels in his head that went somewhere you knew you wouldn’t want to go. His comrade in arms still lay there in his arms, staying noncommittal. I imagined if she’d known, she’d have been just as happy to be out of it.
    Help me.
    »My brother, you got me at a disadvantage,« I said. »If I’m going to scratch your back, you ought to least pretend to scratch mine.«
    It was pretty obvious though that he wasn’t in any shape to scratch anything. Giving up on the old college try I left him behind and walked into the kitchen, feeling the call of the gut – realized I hadn’t chowed since I was on the train to NY. Before I opened the icebox I took a peek to my rear but they’d not left the front room. Nothing like breakfast at midnight; I turned on the radio and turned in WNEW while fixing myself Adam and Eve on a raft. Nightbird was clearly in a heavy Zombies mood but I could deal with it. As I put away the snacks I let my mind wander, not that it wasn’t always a challenge to keep it leashed. Thought about those girls, especially peewee. Chlojo had those rococo qualities, but she was a moody miss and besides I never felt much at ease with ladies who looked like they’d as soon bust your lip as kiss it. Now that I’d had a chance to see both close up, Eulie was the one I’d –
    Walter.
    Train of thought skidded off the tracks again. He lounged in the doorway, striking the usual pose. Got bored in the front room, I supposed, and came to see what was doing out here. I offered them eggs, but they weren’t buying. Just when I thought they were going to do their hang-dog act all night they started fading from the floor up, as if somebody was taking an eraser to him. Ten, fifteen seconds – no more – and they vamoosed.
    Now I don’t spend much rehearsal time on the Big Book but at least I know the lines. The BB tells us after you catch the last bus to tomorrowland you have to make a pit stop at demiurge central before they let you up on the high ground. The archons and fiends of this world know they can’t keep you there forever, so they make you miserable as they can while they got the chance – it’s