Shoplifting by Ghosts

The shutdown injects the spirit. What spirit? The spirit of a long dead person who plays the music box when you least suspect. Or maybe it's your spirit. The one lives inside your bones, the one that died some time ago and makes an appearance once in awhile. Or maybe it's the Christmas spirit. But you find yourself like Ebeneezer before the ghosts find him.

I want to believe in ghosts. I want to talk to one and maybe play cards. They could tell me life secrets. We could shoplift and sell our finds on Ebay. No one would believe a ghost would shoplift.

I shoplifted once, or I should say almost once.  I was young, five or six, and I was at the mall with my mom. The store we were in had Smurf figurines. I wanted Smurfette; she was my favorite. Mom said no. So I took it and put it in my pocket. The store clerk saw and told my mom. My ass was beat when I got home, and I was grounded to my bed. This was the 80's so that meant there was no such thing as a TV in my bedroom. It was summer because it was still light out. I sat in my dark room.

I always knew stealing was wrong and still do. So why would I want a ghost to shoplift? Just to see if the ghost will do it. And to see how the people in the store would react. How could you charge someone with theft if that someone is dead?  And of course, I don't want to do the dirty work. After all, I'm alive and would have to pay for those transgressions.

So here we back at the shutdown and the imagination goes nowhere fast unless it is 1973 and then there is a focal point strung up by lightening. Here am I today thinking of creating a ghost army to do the bidding I know is wrong.

Till next time....