Chapter 7
Decorating Under The Influence
The trio stumbled out into the night air.
Each with and arm full of bottles of ales and just in time to hear the sounds of The Boozy Cauldron winding down for the evening.
Voices drifted from the front of the pub as patrons called out their goodnights, followed by the distinctive sound of Murphy and Uma locking up.
"Pub's closed," Chet observed with the careful pronunciation of someone trying not to sound drunk.
"Guess we'll have to find some fun elsewhere," Beau declared, straightening his coat with exaggerated dignity.
That's when Finn's eyes lit up with the particular gleam that had gotten him and Murphy into so much trouble during their school days.
"Lads," he said with a grin, "when was the last time we had a proper prank?"
The three friends looked at each other, and suddenly they were moving with the focused purpose of intoxicated spirits on a mission.
Their first target was the town square, where they discovered an impressive supply of decorative autumn items scattered around various porches and storefronts.
With the efficiency that only comes from being both drunk and temporarily solid, they began collecting pumpkins, corn stalks, scarecrows, and festive wreaths.
The work was harder than expected—physical labor required actual effort when you had corporeal form.
They could still float, which did make it somewhat better.
But the novelty of being able to lift and carry real objects made every pumpkin feel like a treasure, every cornstalk a precious artifact of the physical world they'd lost.
"This one's heavy!" Chet announced as he hefted a particularly large decorative gourd.
"That's because you can actually feel weight now," Beau pointed out, struggling with an armload of cornstalks. "Fascinating how corporeal form affects one's perception of—" He hiccupped. "—of physics."
Soon they had created what looked like an impromptu seasonal yard sale in the center of the town square, with harvest decorations arranged in neat, if somewhat wobbly, rows around the base of the ancient ginkgo trees.
"This needs something more," Finn declared, surveying their work with the critical eye of an artist.
They each went in search of inspiration. That's when they discovered Sally Swanton's metal outbuilding behind The Curious Moon office with an emergency stash of toilet paper—apparently kept on hand for natural disaster or pandemic emergencies, but ideal for their purposes.
With gleeful abandon, they proceeded to festoon the entire town square with streamers of white tissue, draping it from tree to tree and around every lamppost and bench until the whole area looked like it had been visited by the world's most enthusiastic mummy.
"Magnificent!" Beau declared, stepping back to admire their handiwork.
"Murphy's going to die laughing when he sees this," Finn said, then paused. "Well, you know what I mean."
"It's amazing," Chet agreed. "Harmless, hilarious, and completely—"
He flickered out of solid form for a moment, becoming translucent before snapping back to corporeal.
"Uh oh," Finn said, looking down at his own hands, which were beginning to show signs of instability. "I think our time might be running out."
Indeed, all three of them were beginning to flicker in and out of solid form like supernatural strobe lights.
"Dawn's coming," Beau observed, pointing toward the eastern horizon where the faintest hint of light was beginning to show. "We should probably head back."
"Back where, exactly?" Chet asked, swaying slightly as he looked around the unfamiliar town. "Does anyone actually know which direction the cemetery is?"
Finn squinted through his alcohol-and-magic haze at the various streets leading out of the square. "That way? No, wait... that way?"
"Gentlemen," Beau said with drunken dignity, "I believe we may be slightly geographically challenged at the moment."
That's when a familiar flickering light began to pulse near the base of one of the ancient ginkgo trees, growing brighter with each throb until it started emitting that same harmonious humming they'd heard before.
"Well, would you look at that," Finn said, pointing unsteadily at the phenomenon. "Our taxi service has returned."
"How convenient!" Chet declared. "Perfect timing!"
The light began to spin, creating the same swirling vortex they'd encountered at the cemetery, and the humming crystallized into those same ominous words: "One for one... an eye for an eye... what was done will be done..."
"Right then," Beau said, straightening his coat. "All aboard the mystery express!"
Without hesitation, the three drunk ghosts pushed and shoved their way toward the spinning light, elbowing each other good-naturedly as they tried to be first into the vortex.
"After you!" "No, after you!" "Just get in there!"
They tumbled into the spinning circle together, laughing as reality bent around them. The loophole expanded with their passage, creating a proper spectral gateway that expelled them back out at the cemetery in a tangle of blinking ghostly limbs.
By the time they reached the cemetery, they were flashing so rapidly they looked like ghostly disco balls.
"This is... disconcerting," Chet said as his form shifted from solid to translucent and back again.
They heard a distinctive sound—the scraping and shuffling of someone digging their way out of the ground. Through the pre-dawn gloom, they could see Butcher's large form emerging from the earthen mound where they'd re-buried him earlier, dirt cascading from his shoulders as he stretched and yawned.
"Shhh," Finn whispered, though his voice was becoming increasingly ghostlike as the vapor wore off. "Tip-toe."
The three friends attempted to sneak past the awakening zombie caretaker, their pulsing forms making them look like malfunctioning Christmas tree lights. Fortunately, Butcher was still groggy from his sleep and didn't notice the parade of unstable ghosts drifting behind him.
By the time they reached the edge of the woods, all three had fully reverted to their standard ghostly state—translucent and completely incorporeal once again.
"Well," Finn said, his voice carrying the satisfied tone of someone who'd had an excellent evening, "that was the most fun I've had since... well, since before I died."
"Agreed," Chet replied. "Though I suspect our little adventure might have some consequences."
"Worth it," Beau declared firmly. "Absolutely worth it."
They drifted back toward the sacred grove, where the ghost convention was still in full swing with socializing and fireside storytelling. Most of the other spirits seemed not to have noticed their absence, and the three friends settled back into the gathering as if they'd never left.
They found a quiet spot near the edge of the grove and collapsed in a drunken heap, still giddy from their adventure.