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GHOOOOSTS

GHOOOOSTS

I don’t believe ghosts exist; I don’t believe they don’t.  Exist.  In fact, I ‘m pretty sure that once I swallowed a ghost.

Charlie and I were taking a long jog at dusk along the river.  Unbelievably, people were cooking and eating what they snaggled from that bed of sewage.  More believably, because I was stupidly running with my mouth open as you do when you work up a good sweat, a ghost flew into my mouth, struck my uvula and plummeted screaming down my esophagus.

What – you expect me to believe I swallowed a bug instead?

 

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