Because we’re classy, Mom and I have been discussing what sort of ghosts we’d be when we died. This isn’t quite as random a discussion as we normally have. We’ve been watching The Haunted on Animal Planet – because I’ve decided that my research for Nevermore includes watching true ghost stories and gleaning ideas for spooky incidents – and one of the episodes involves the evil ghost of someone’s grandfather.
This led to us wondering what my grandfather would be like as a ghost (that’s assuming that he WILL eventually die; the current theory is that his everlasting hate and Italian skill at grudge holding, as well as his adorable enthusiasm for candy, will keep him alive forever), with the conclusion that we will need an exorcist on hand for his funeral.
Of course, this idea extends to my whole family. My mom will probably be the worst of us. Movies are made about the sort of ghost my mom will make, what with the reaping of vengeance against still living parties. Also, if the people who move into her house after she dies are slobs, the plate throwing will be epic. I kinda hope I’m there when she destroys whatever shell is left of my father. That’ll be fun. Need to stock up on pop corn for that, though.
We’ve agreed that I’ll probably be less loud and spiteful then Mom when I’m dead. More likely, I’ll just be this traveling cloud of depression and eeriness that sneaks up behind you and envelopes you in crippling insecurity. And it says much about what a horrible person I am that this idea pleases me vastly.
Matt will probably be more of a djinn or genie than a ghost. I can just imagine him lurking in a forgotten fedora in an attic, and when someone tries to dust the hat, he’ll pop out to either be useful, or damn them to the hell of ten thousand hungry cats for waking him up. More likely to do the damning, as he does so like his sleep.
Yeah, we’re all bad people. We’re gonna be awesome in the afterlife.