Halloween Image Part 9 The Ghost Who Hired a Human Exterminator

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The Ghost Who Hired a Human Exterminator
For one hundred and forty-three years, Grumblewick Manor had enjoyed a perfectly respectable reputation as the most haunted house in the county. Its doors slammed without warning, its portraits whispered insults, and every Thursday at midnight the grandfather clock screamed like a kettle being murdered. The residents were proud of this arrangement. Then, on a perfectly dreadful Saturday, a moving van arrived. “People!” Edgar squeaked, peering through the curtains. “Living ones!” Mildred floated to the window. A smiling family was unloading boxes, houseplants, and a stuffed bear. “Perhaps they're only visiting,” she whispered. A little boy waved directly at her. “Look, Mum! A friendly ghost!” Edgar fainted. By lunchtime the newcomers had unpacked a picnic in the drawing room. The mother, Clara, called the peeling wallpaper “authentic charm.” Her husband, Ben, described the broken staircase as “a fantastic restoration project.” “They've mistaken decay for interior design,” Mildred groaned. “We're doomed.” Edgar decided on immediate action. He floated into the kitchen, rattled every pan, and wrote GET OUT in the condensation on the window. Clara came in carrying groceries. “Oh, how sweet! The house has a message board!” She wiped the glass and wrote THANK YOU beneath it. Mildred tried next. At midnight she rose above Oliver's bed, opened her mouth, and released the terrible wail that had once driven a bishop into a duck pond. Oliver sat up delighted. “Mum! The singing ghost is back!” Mildred fled through three walls and hid in a cupboard. “They are immune to terror,” she told Edgar. “Worse,” he replied. “They are enthusiastic.” On Sunday the family hung fairy lights along the banister and placed fresh flowers beside the skull in the hallway. Edgar nearly wept. “They're making our home cheerful!” “There is only one solution,” Mildred said grimly. “Professional help.” She produced a yellowed telephone directory from 1926. Under EXTERMINATORS she found a single entry: BARTHOLOMEW BONES — DISCREET REMOVAL OF UNWANTED OCCUPANTS. NO REFUNDS. At the thirteenth ring, someone answered from beneath the floorboards. “Bones speaking. State the infestation.” “Humans,” whispered Mildred. Silence. “Madam, I usually remove ghosts.” “We are the ghosts.” Another silence. “Well,” said Bones, “that is a refreshing change.” He arrived at dusk wearing a battered bowler hat, round spectacles, and a trench coat full of suspicious tools. Edgar opened the door. “Thank heavens! Can you get rid of them?” Bones inspected the hall. “How many?” “Four,” Edgar said. “Two adults, one child, and a teddy bear.” Bones opened his case. He cleared his throat. “First, we establish whether the infestation is permanent.” Just then Clara entered with a tray of biscuits. “Oh! Another wonderful costume! Are you from the historical society?” Bones straightened his hat. “I am here to remove unwanted residents.” “Brilliant!” Clara said. “We've been trying to get rid of the mice.” She handed him a biscuit. It fell through his ribs and shattered on the floor. “Oh dear,” she said. “Gluten intolerance?” His first technique was the classic Cold Spot. He opened a jar and unleashed an icy blast that coated the sitting room in frost. Ben came downstairs, shivering happily. “Fantastic! Built-in air conditioning! This house keeps surprising us.” “LEAVE THIS HOUSE OR FACE ETERNAL DARKNESS!” Oliver appeared with his toy microphone. “Cool! Voice effects! Can you do a dragon?” The chimney roared again. Oliver applauded. Mildred clutched the curtains. “This is a catastrophe.” “Patience,” Bones replied. “I have more advanced methods.” He rang the Bell of Unsettled Souls. Every portrait in the hall began to scream. Clara hurried in, listened carefully, and smiled. “How lovely. An interactive art installation!” She took a photograph. The situation worsened when Ben discovered the ghostly writing on the bathroom mirror. Edgar had painstakingly spelled YOU WILL REGRET COMING HERE. Ben added ONLY IF THE PLUMBING FAILS and drew a smiling face. Mildred attempted to possess the vacuum cleaner. It chased Clara around the dining table, shrieking and throwing dust into the air. Clara laughed so hard she had to sit down. “A self-cleaning house! We're so lucky!” That evening Bones convened an emergency meeting behind the fireplace. “I have identified the problem,” he announced. “Your humans suffer from chronic optimism.” Edgar gasped. “Is it contagious?” “Highly. One smile can ruin centuries of cultivated misery.” He produced an enormous form titled NOTICE OF SUPERNATURAL EVICTION. It demanded the occupants' names, signatures, forwarding address, and proof of haunting. “We need them to sign,” he said. “Then they'll be legally obliged to leave.” Edgar looked ready to die again. They floated the form onto the kitchen table. Clara found it beside the cereal. “Oh, Ben, look! The house has its own welcome questionnaire.”