gasped. “Like a burglar?”
“Exactly,” Sam confirmed. “We’ll split up. Timmy, you take the first floor and Gertie and I will search the second floor for intruders.”
“Split up?” Timmy said anxiously. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Sam.”
“What’s wrong with splitting up?” I asked. “Afraid the big, bad boogeyman is going to grab you, Timmy?”
“I’ve seen enough horror movies to know the gay guy is always the first to get the axe in the back.”
“Oh, please. I doubt you’re the boogeyman’s type.” I glared at Timmy, my hands on my hips.
With a flourish of the wrist, he stood in front of me, legs slightly apart and put his hands on his hips too, his gaze spawning a classic showdown. It was gunfight at the OK Corral all over again.
I met him look for look. After all, I wasn’t BFF to a gay drama queen without learning a trick or two.
“He might be right, Gertie,” Sam interjected just in the nick of time. “Maybe splitting up isn’t so wise.”
I blinked at him. “What do you mean, isn’t so wise? Are you taking his side now?”
Sam uttered a long sigh as he shot me an exasperated look. “If someone is lurking around, it could be dangerous. You know what they say about safety in numbers.”
Sure, I knew all about the old safety in numbers adage. I also knew what they said about three being a crowd, but I wasn’t about to mention that in front of Sam.
“He’s got a point, Gertie. It could be dangerous,” Timmy said.
Great, I’m in the midst of a meeting of the old boy’s club . The air was getting just a little bit too thick with testosterone for my liking.
I scowled at the two of them. This was exactly why I hadn’t wanted Timmy to come in the first place. I wanted Sam to hold my hand, not my gay BFF’s hand. But I was outnumbered so I didn’t have a choice but to go along with the status quo.
“All right, already. We stay together then.” I turned towards Sam and with a wriggle of the hand said, “Lead the way, Cowboy.”
“Wagon train out,” he responded with a grin.
We moved from room to room throughout the first floor.
“That does it,” Sam said when we finished navigating the lower level. “There’s no one downstairs, other than us.”
“No one living, you mean,” I added.
Timmy visibly paled. “You don’t think that there is a ghost in here right now, do you? I mean, the way the television was blaring when we came in, a ghost couldn’t do that. Could they?”
“Ding dong, earth to Timmy. Dude, what do you think Sam’s being here is all about?” No, wait. I didn’t want him to answer that. Verbalizing it would make it all too real.
“I understand he’s a ghost buster. I get that,” Timmy protested.
“Hunter,” I stressed. “He’s a hunter. It’s not ghost busting, it’s ghost hunting I keep telling you.”
“Okkaaaay,” Timmy drawled. “Ghost hunter. I merely wanted to know if it was even possible for a ghost to physically turn a television set on. I just wondered if there was a ghost with us now. Shoot me for wondering. Sheesh!”
We both turned to look at Sam, who was listening to our little exchange with what seemed to be great interest. “It’s possible,” he said. “With all that has occurred…” He was cut off by a thunderous noise that sounded like a motorcycle revving up in the living room.
“What the hell is that?” Timmy said, his voice full of alarm.
“I don’t know,” Sam answered, already moving out of the room. “But I’m about to find out.”
We followed him back toward the living room. As we neared the room, the sounds grew louder until it seemed that all of Hell’s Angels were in my cozy living room, revving up their cycles all at once. Suddenly, we knew what the noise was.
“That’s impossible,” I whispered as I watched Paul Teutul Junior revving up a custom Orange County chopper while Paul Teutul Senior gave a running commentary about where he was going to put his
“Exactly,” Sam confirmed. “We’ll split up. Timmy, you take the first floor and Gertie and I will search the second floor for intruders.”
“Split up?” Timmy said anxiously. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Sam.”
“What’s wrong with splitting up?” I asked. “Afraid the big, bad boogeyman is going to grab you, Timmy?”
“I’ve seen enough horror movies to know the gay guy is always the first to get the axe in the back.”
“Oh, please. I doubt you’re the boogeyman’s type.” I glared at Timmy, my hands on my hips.
With a flourish of the wrist, he stood in front of me, legs slightly apart and put his hands on his hips too, his gaze spawning a classic showdown. It was gunfight at the OK Corral all over again.
I met him look for look. After all, I wasn’t BFF to a gay drama queen without learning a trick or two.
“He might be right, Gertie,” Sam interjected just in the nick of time. “Maybe splitting up isn’t so wise.”
I blinked at him. “What do you mean, isn’t so wise? Are you taking his side now?”
Sam uttered a long sigh as he shot me an exasperated look. “If someone is lurking around, it could be dangerous. You know what they say about safety in numbers.”
Sure, I knew all about the old safety in numbers adage. I also knew what they said about three being a crowd, but I wasn’t about to mention that in front of Sam.
“He’s got a point, Gertie. It could be dangerous,” Timmy said.
Great, I’m in the midst of a meeting of the old boy’s club . The air was getting just a little bit too thick with testosterone for my liking.
I scowled at the two of them. This was exactly why I hadn’t wanted Timmy to come in the first place. I wanted Sam to hold my hand, not my gay BFF’s hand. But I was outnumbered so I didn’t have a choice but to go along with the status quo.
“All right, already. We stay together then.” I turned towards Sam and with a wriggle of the hand said, “Lead the way, Cowboy.”
“Wagon train out,” he responded with a grin.
We moved from room to room throughout the first floor.
“That does it,” Sam said when we finished navigating the lower level. “There’s no one downstairs, other than us.”
“No one living, you mean,” I added.
Timmy visibly paled. “You don’t think that there is a ghost in here right now, do you? I mean, the way the television was blaring when we came in, a ghost couldn’t do that. Could they?”
“Ding dong, earth to Timmy. Dude, what do you think Sam’s being here is all about?” No, wait. I didn’t want him to answer that. Verbalizing it would make it all too real.
“I understand he’s a ghost buster. I get that,” Timmy protested.
“Hunter,” I stressed. “He’s a hunter. It’s not ghost busting, it’s ghost hunting I keep telling you.”
“Okkaaaay,” Timmy drawled. “Ghost hunter. I merely wanted to know if it was even possible for a ghost to physically turn a television set on. I just wondered if there was a ghost with us now. Shoot me for wondering. Sheesh!”
We both turned to look at Sam, who was listening to our little exchange with what seemed to be great interest. “It’s possible,” he said. “With all that has occurred…” He was cut off by a thunderous noise that sounded like a motorcycle revving up in the living room.
“What the hell is that?” Timmy said, his voice full of alarm.
“I don’t know,” Sam answered, already moving out of the room. “But I’m about to find out.”
We followed him back toward the living room. As we neared the room, the sounds grew louder until it seemed that all of Hell’s Angels were in my cozy living room, revving up their cycles all at once. Suddenly, we knew what the noise was.
“That’s impossible,” I whispered as I watched Paul Teutul Junior revving up a custom Orange County chopper while Paul Teutul Senior gave a running commentary about where he was going to put his
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