But then it’s only a matter of time before you’re unmasked by a group of meddling kids and their dog. You need to think a little further ahead!
I’d start invding computers and rewriting files - things like putting in my post-mortem wishes into financial files. And outgoing email.
I’d visit my friends a couple of days before Christmas (individually of coarse) all dressed in chains and stuff, and tell them that they must change their ways or else end up like me. Then I’d tell them to expect three ghosts, and I’d recruit three other ghosts to help.
I’d invade their dreams and make up important-sounding nonsense, like “THE PROOF IS UNDER THE OAK TREE!” and then watch them go digging and try to figure out what I meant. Then I’d come back some other night and be like, “SORRY, MY BAD, IT’S UNDER THE ROSEBUSH” and try to see how long I could keep the gag going.
I don’t need to do anything but wait.
When they say my name 3 times…IIIIT’S SHOW-TIME!
I’m sure I’d think up something clever involving Tivo.
Turning the water in the shower ice cold, then back to hot again.
Setting the alarm clocks of the living for PM instead of AM.
Signing the living up for “FREE CARIBBEAN VACATION” promotions.
Taking the milk out of the fridge in the middle of the night and leaving it out on the counter.
The same way I did in college. Take a crap in one toilet and flush the toilet paper down another…
…oooOOOOOoooo…The Phantom Shitter!!!
Wow, you all are nice ghosts. I’d be the blood dripping from the walls/poltergeist/Amityville type deal. The whole thing, the flies on the window, the malicious yet ultimately harmless physical attacks, the scary voices, the Gozer in the fridge kind of ghost. I don’t want to communicate, I want to scare…
I do not believe in ghosts. I hope that there is life after death, but I don’t know one way or the other, and my best guess would be that when you’re dead, you’re dead. Nonetheless, this happened to me…
A couple of months after my friend Frank died, I was walking across my living room when I suddenly stopped dead in my tracks (it was sort of like Harry in “Third Rock” receiving a message from the Big Giant Head). I knew that Frank was giving me a message. I knew that there is a good reason that the dead do not usually communicate with the living, but (my exact thought) “Frank always was a stubborn S.O.B.”
The message was “Things are exactly the way they should be.”
It’s a beautiful message and it has brought me some comfort, but I have a real hard time believing that there’s any justification for some of the shit that goes on down here.
Shirley Ujest: What’s this about pennies? For many years I found pennies all the time, and sometimes under very bizarre circumstances. I have five or six coffee cans full of found pennies (I never spent any of them). The penny phemonmenon pretty much (but not totally) stopped after I bought my house, where I am very safe and content.
Forget the spooky stuff.
Forget the ghostly apparitions.
Forget John Edwards!
I would use Morse Code.
Damn! I forgot. I don’t know Morse Code!!! :smack:
Does it have to be pronounced correctly?
Because I don’t think I could pronounce Bosda Di’Chi of Tricor even once correctly.
Say your name three times? I’m sorry, not gonna happen. Seriously, think about it:
"Bodsa Ti’Chi of Dacor, Bodsa… What? That’s not it? Ok, I’ll try again.
Bosda Ti’Chi of Dacor… Oh, I see, Tricor. One more time, I’ll get it right this time.
Bosda Ti’Chi of Tricor, Bosda Ti’Chi… That’s not right either?
Aw, F&*(^ it. He want to haunt me, he’s gonna have to get here on his own."
;)
Simulpost…but yours was funnier.
This is my first ever simulpost, though.
People. Please.
FOCUS!!
John Edward - Indestructable hair - Talks to dead people.
John Edwards - Indestructable hair - Talks to democrats.
Spooky. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen them in the same room at the same time. HMmmmmmmm.
Shortly after the microwave incident attributed to my friend that I mentioned above, I started receiving free samples of crap, magazines I’d never subscribed to, etc. I finally traced it back to the fact that said friend, in the week or so before she died, had been incredibly bored at work, and signed all her friends up for ridiculous promotions over the internet.
So, I actually received a free sample of Depends from a dead person.
Thanks for the clarification. 
Tap-dancing and farting, mostly.
I’d travel all around the world, haunting all the bad guys from Amnesty International’s various reports. “Repeeent, repeeent! Killing people is baaad! (insert grahpical description of consequences if they don’t Mend Their Ways, tailored to the recipient’s beliefs)” I’d have to learn a lot of languages, though - would probably start with Hebrew and Arabic.
…or perhaps I’d just hang around in Chippendales’ changing rooms
Hmmmmm, find a medium and drive him/her nuts by singing “I’m Henry The Eighth I Am” all night long.