The largest woman he had ever seen, sitting at the head of the brat’s table glared back at him, her face resembling some sort of disgruntled moose… or maybe a marmot, he wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, she mouthed ’Don’t even think about it fucko’ and he slumped his shoulders dejectedly and turned to walk away.

Less than a block from Vinny’s, the unfortunately occupied pizzeria, was Sparkle Mutt Pet Grooming, of which Ace was owner and operator. After unsuccessfully attempting to open his own pet grooming operation a few years back he was forced to explore different career avenues, none of which stuck to any degree. Of course, basing anything other than a pet grooming shop out of a place called Sparkle Mutt was difficult, to say the least, but he was still trying his damndest to figure out what it was he was actually good at… and besides, he still had two months left on his lease.

He came upon the entrance to his shop and again felt as though this day was going to be different than the hundreds of utterly depressing days that had come before. He took one look at the piece of paper that had been taped to his door and immediately ripped it off. It read:

Dear Jerk,

I hope you go out of bisness tomorrow! You are bad at everything and you smell! Whose ever herd of a balloon recovery service anyway? You suck and are stupid, I hate you! By the way, you’re lease is up in 2 months, and if you forget I will call the police!

- Jerry McMartin

“Hey, his spelling is getting better.” Ace crumpled up paper and tossed it aside. He turned around quickly and waved to a man reclining in a lawn chair across the street. “Balloon Busters was last week Mr. McMartin!” “Whatever! You still suck!” Mr. McMartin simply chugged his beer and glared back at Ace with that overly jaded old man look on his face. Ace didn’t stop to chat however, he instead unlocked his shop and entered with a slam of the door behind him. There really wasn’t much to behold within the meager shop, and Ace didn’t act like there was anything wrong with that as he tossed his keys across the room into an empty fish bowl and plopped down into a dilapidated couch that sat behind the counter.

“Any messages Margret?” Ace shouted as he picked up a magazine and began thumbing through it aimlessly. “Ruff!” a large brown dog jumped up, putting it’s paws on the counter top. It wagged it’s tail vigorously as though to express how happy it was. “No?” “Ruff!” “Alright, I guess you’re free to go. It is a Friday afternoon after all.” Ace went back to his magazine, casually ignoring the dog. “Ruff!” Margret barked once more before trotting to the door and placing her paws against the glass, pushing it open. She promptly exited, a scarf wrapped around her neck. As the door slid closed, Ace watched to make sure she was gone. As soon as the coast looked clear he sighed and sat up on the couch. “Good thing she didn’t ask for her paycheck, we’re in the red again this month.” Ace got up and walked into the back room, which was occupied primarily by a mini-fridge a lamp and a couple of folding chairs. Ace bent over and opened the tiny fridge, whistling some ridiculous tune he wasn’t sure he knew the name of. As he looked around the fridge, a dire look spread across his face. “Where the hell did my jerky go!? Damn, Margret!”

He was about to give chase to his canine secretary, but he felt his rage subsiding even as he considered hassling a dog he employed about eating jerky. He merely slammed the fridge shut and returned to the shop, and his pet fancy magazine. Again he turned the pages without giving much thought to what was on them. This was the true image of boredom; a man endlessly flipping through a magazine he could give a shit less about as the entire world passes him by. This was pretty much every day in the life of Ace Kendall Britton. As they say, all things come to those who wait, and if his business practices were any indication, Ace took that all too literally. Not that he was really expecting everything to just fall in his lap by screwing around all the time, but he was seriously expecting something to just fall into his lap by screwing around all the time. It was just an obnoxious cycle that threatened to consume not only him but any chance had at actually doing something with his life. Ace continued to waste his time with his arbitrary pet magazine when the phone suddenly began ringing. He looked at it in surprise for a moment, trying to remember why his initial instinct wasn’t to answer the damn thing, but he suddenly remembered that he let Margaret go early and no one was there to answer the phone but him. Reluctantly he pried himself from both his couch and his magazine and meandered over to the phone.

“Yello.” Ace blared into the phone, trying to situate himself comfortably on the stool set up for the secretary. “Is this Ace Britton’s odd jobs plus?” the voice on the phone asked suspiciously. Ace scratched his head for a moment, as if he seriously didn’t know what the guy was talking about, but after a few seconds his memory of plastering flyers all over the student union at the community college earlier that day came rushing back to him. “That’s right, no job too odd, and no odds too odd to job.” Ace made up some stupid slogan as he went along. “Wow, that’s really hard to say.” The voice responded, somewhat bespectacled. “Isn’t it?” somehow, he and this caller were beginning to commiserate about something obviously unrelated to what either of them were actually on the phone about. “Anyway, I was wondering if you’d be able to come out and help me with a job.” The man on the line seemed detached, maybe not purposely so, but still not entirely there. “Well you came, err, called the right place. What do you need help with?” Ace asked, eager to see if his newest idea for a ’business’ could actually be panning out. “Great. It’s sort of a difficult job to explain, but I guess that’s why I’m asking for help in the first place.” the man was being vague, but again, by no fault of his own as it seemed to Ace. “Alright, how bout we just start with your name then?” “Oh, it’s Randy Perkis.” “Ok Randy, is there a place I should just meet you so you can map out this little job?” “Yeah, just come on over, it’s here at my house.” “Gotcha.” “…” “… uh, Randy?” “Yeah?” “Not a mind reader buddy.” “No?” “Nope, so I’m going to need an address here.” “Oh! Right, my bad.”

Nearly an hour later, after stopping to get a slurpee at the 7/11 by the shop, Ace finally came upon the address that Randy had given him over the phone. As soon as he walked up to the house he could tell something was wrong. He could hear a voice, presumably Randy’s, yelling at someone.

“NO! Don’t eat that! Come on, that’s my wife’s!” Ace heard Randy shout as he walked up and pressed the door bell firmly, a loud ding-dong! resounding. Randy’s yelling ceased, and Ace could hear footsteps heading towards the door. Suddenly the door unlatched and cracked open ever so slightly, revealing only the right side of a bewildered looking man’s face. “Hello?” “Randy? I’m Ace Britton, specialist.” Ace smiled confidently and held a card up to Randy’s face. The card consisted of a picture of Ace, his name, and the words ’CERTIFIED SPECIALIST’ printed below it. “We spoke on the phone?” “Oh, thank god you’re here. I’m running out of ideas.” Randy sounded relieved as he opened the door all the way to let Ace in. As he stepped inside Ace noticed the entire house was a mess. Potted plants overturned, furniture in shambles, paintings knocked into positions unbefitting a respectable living room. Indeed things were a mess, and Ace could only imagine what had done all of this. Still, it didn’t seem to bother him at all, especially since his personal motto was ’Professionalism, even in the face of disgrace.’ He liked it because it sounded cool, and because the last part rhymed. “So, what’ve we got going on in here Randy? Wild bachelor party you need help calming down? Indoor rugby? Oh! Wild bachelorette party you need help calming down. No worries, I’ve done this before.” Ace rambled on as Randy lead him through the tattered house. “No, I wish it was something like that,” Randy seemed like his head was in the clouds as the two of them walked, but then again, Randy hadn’t seemed all there from the get go really. “This is something completely different.” “Completely different like, illegals camping in your kitchen different or like waking up next to your sister one morning different?” Ace asked. “Well, if I had to choose I’d say the illegals one, but I’m really not sure what’s going on in there, it’s just not my field.”

As Ace and Randy rounded the corner into Randy’s kitchen, Ace saw something he wouldn’t soon forget. A beast, hairy and tall, almost massive, standing before the pantry eating directly out of the box of Capn’ Crunch. Ace stared at it for a while, but it didn’t seem to change just how strange this thing was. Almost like a gorilla, it was human-esque, but with a slightly slouching posture, and a lot more hair. Ace turned to Randy and drew him closer so he could say something.

“In-laws?” Ace whispered to him. “I wish,” Randy responded, oddly earnest in saying so. “it just showed up this morning and started eating things. It tried sitting on all my furniture, but it was too big, and it broke it all.” “Ouch,” Ace commiserated. “Did you try luring it out of the house with food or anything?” “Yeah, but it didn’t like what I was giving it.” “Did you try Fillet o’ Fish? I heard things like this love that shit.” “Are you talking about Harry and the Hendersons?” “No. I was talking about Animal Planet.” “Uh, no, I didn’t. But there’s something really strange about it.” “I’ll say.” “No, it’s not just that it’s some hairy beast thing in my kitchen eating my food, it’s that it’s almost like it’s not really there.” “How’s that?” “I dunno, I just get the feeling it’s not even actually doing these things most of the time.” “Right…” Ace looked back at the creature as it continued to peruse Randy’s pantry. Suddenly Ace grinned wide, placing a hand on his chin. “Lets hit it with something.”

Both Ace and Randy were ducked down behind the counter in his kitchen, gazing over the very top of it, looking at the beast. Ace picked up his projectile of choice, sizing up his target at the same time. He grunted a little bit as he set the bag of wrenches in the makeshift sling shot he had hastily assembled.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Randy asked, looking at the wrenches worriedly. “Calm down Randy. We need to see how it reacts to hostile actions before we can progress.” Ace bullshitted as he continued to situate his wrench cannon. Finally getting everything into place, he pulled back on the sack nestled atop 6 different bungee cords which in turn were hooked firmly to and old soccer goal the two had found in Randy’s garage. “Alright, you ready?” “Not really…” Randy managed to mutter before Ace released his tightly held sling shot. The bag of wrenches launched off of the bungee cords and shot across the room with surprising speed and accuracy. It sped directly for the sasquach-like creature, until reached the point where it should have struck the damn thing head on, but instead passed right through it and kept going. It continued to sail across the room until it collided with Randy’s microwave, resulting in a loud crash and a shower of sparks, none of which seemed to even phase the creature.

In a flash, both Randy and Ace were outside the house, panting as they ran full speed away from what they had just witnessed. Once the two were safely outside and away from whatever it was standing in the kitchen Ace quickly gathered his wits.

“Alright, I think I know what you’ve got Randy.” Ace said. “What?” Randy asked. “Bigfoot ghost.” “…” “…” “…” “… did you hear what I…” “Yeah, yeah, I was just letting it sink in.” “Oh, go ahead then.” “No, I think I’ve pretty much got it.” “Ok, good. “ “So, what do you think I should do?” “Not a clue,” Ace seemed to grow excessively contemplative as he stooped and sat down on the front door step. He began stroking his chin as he sat, looking out towards the street. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. “Wait, do you have a phone book?” “In the house.”

“Lets see… garbage collection, gas company, Gilligan’s Island… ah here we go, ghost removal.” Ace and Randy were hunkered down in the garage reading the yellow pages with a flash light. “Give me your phone Randy.” “It’s in the kitchen .” “You know Randy, if this is going to work we all need to be on the ball here.” “Sorry, it’s just I didn’t want to go in there while it was still, you know, doing stuff.” “… fine, I’ll go across the street and use the friggin’ pay phone.” Ace gave Randy one of those ’sometimes you really disappoint me’ looks.

Ace dropped a quarter into the phone and began dialing the number he ripped out of the phone book. He listened as the phone clicked a few times before finally connecting. It began ringing shortly thereafter. Suddenly it ceased, and a voice answered.

“Hello?” the voice asked. “Hello?” Ace returned. “Hello?” the voice reiterated. “Yes, this is Three Points Ghost Removal isn’t it?” Ace asked, a little curious about the greeting. “Nope.” the voice said flatly. “Seriously? But I got the number out of the phone book.” “Well, this was a ghost removal office,” the voice began “but that was almost 2 years ago.” “Huh…” Ace turned to Randy, who was standing by silently. “How old is your phone book?!” Randy could only shrug in reply. “Sorry, nobody needed any ghosts removed, so I closed up shop.” The voice went on. “I see, but this number is your home phone though?” “Yup.” “Well, I wonder if I could ask your advice on something?” “Hmmm… it is kind of late…” the voice even yawned as if to cement it’s reasoning. “but I guess some advice couldn’t hurt.” “Great, so can you tell me what you know about Bigfoot ghosts?” “You mean sasquach apparitions?” “No, a Bigfoot ghost.” “Well, in the industry, we really prefer the term sasquach apparition.” “Listen, whatever the hell you call it, it’s a large hairy ghost, what the hell can we do to it?” “I guess it depends.” “On what?” “On what it’s doing, what it wants too.” “How the hell should I know?” “Have you tried talking to it?” “To the ghost?” “Yes.” “The Bigfoot ghost?” “Yes.” “It hadn’t really occurred to me that he’d be in a chatty mood.” “Well, tell you what, just this once I’ll come on out for an on sight evaluation.” “Wow, you’d think you’d be a little more excited to get some business.” “Oh, damn, you’re going to pay me?” “Huh? Where did you…” “If that’s the case I’ll be over as soon as I can.” “I never said anything like…” “What did you say the address was again?”

Ace sighed into the receiver. He looked back at Randy’s house for a second before moving on.

“Alright, you got a pen ready?”

Ace and Randy stood outside the house, the sun having long since disappeared from the sky and the street lights having flickered to life. As Ace let his cigarette drop to the ground, ready to be stomped out, he heard a loud mechanical roaring sound coming from down the street. He turned to see what it was and found a dilapidated station wagon chugging along with it’s exhaust pipe dragging maliciously along the ground. Ace could only look on in wonder as the busted old car pulled up, coming to a complete stop in front of Randy’s house.

The door swung open , drooping as if hanging from one hinge, and out stepped an odd character. His dreadlocks hung to about his shoulders, and his shirt bore the visage of the edifying Bob Marley. A tool belt was strapped around his waist with an assortment of random objects stuck in it. He looked over to Ace and waved. Ace lifted an eyebrow as he waved back.

“Alright, so where is the sasquach apparition?” the stranger said as he walked up, making sure his belt was on the right way. “Bigfoot ghost’s in the kitchen.” Ace pointed a thumb at the house. “By the way, what’s your name cowboy?” “Ah, name’s Wendell, Wendell Rastafarian.” Wendell extended his hand towards Ace as he introduced himself. “Ace Britton, a pleasure.” Ace shook his hand as he gave Wendell a skeptical look over. “Britton huh?” Wendell asked, seemingly a little skeptical himself. “You British?” “You from Jamaica?” Ace asked back as he lit up another cigarette. “Yes,” Wendell smiled and walked into the house, stepping past Ace. “Yes I am” “Eh, fair enough.” Ace took one more drag off his cigarette and tossed it into the yard and followed Wendell in. Randy could only watch as the odd pair disappeared into his home.

Ace watched as Wendell looked over the tools her had brought in with him. Finally he decided upon a flash light which he pulled out and proceeded to shake. After a moment he stopped and held it at the ready.

“What’s with the light?” Ace asked. “It’s a form of concentrated white light, it should stop the ghost in it’s tracks.” Wendell responded. He and Ace continued to sneak around the corner heading towards the kitchen. As Wendell tread forward lightly he could suddenly sense something looming in front of him. He quickly flicked the flash light on and pointed it at the figure standing before him. And there, in all it’s bizarre hairy glory, stood the Bigfoot ghost. However, even as Wendell’s light struck it, it didn’t seem to budge or even show the faintest interest in him. “What exactly is that light supposed to do again?” Ace asked. “Huh, I might not be close enough.” Wendell began to creep forward, getting closer to the ghost. As soon as he was about 2 feet away he paused and turned the light on again, shining it directly on the beast. Again, it seemed to have no effect. Suddenly the ghost turned around and stared down at Wendell, it’s cold dead eyes looking right through him. Without warning it grabbed Wendell by the neck and hurled him out of the room. Ace took one look at the ghost and gave chase to Wendell. As he entered the living room he found Wendell spread out atop a broken recliner. “Ok, so I’m guessing the light didn’t work.” Ace asked knowingly. Wendell stood up and dusted himself off. He checked to make sure all of his equipment was still intact before responding to Ace’s smug question. “Alright, this one’s tough. We’re going to need go to plan B now.” Wendell pulled a hammer from his tool belt. Ace gave him a confused look. “Wow, if I knew it was as easy as hitting him with a hammer, my plan should have already done the trick.” Ace sarcastically droned on as Wendell pulled an air horn out of his tool belt next, and proceeded to toss it to Ace. “What the hell do you want me to do with this?” “I let you know when to use it.” said Wendell as he walked past Ace and into the kitchen.

Both Ace and Wendell were crouched down behind the bar the same way Ace and Randy had done a while earlier. Wendell peered over the bar for a moment then turned back to Ace.

“Alright, when I give you the signal, blow the horn.” Wendell whispered to Ace. All Ace could do was nod to his back as he quickly darted to the other side of the entrance to the kitchen, hiding behind the wall as if waiting for something. Ace sighed and took a look at the air horn he held in hand. It was pretty small, and it read ‘Blamo’ on the side in large red letters. As he looked up from the canister he could see Wendell through the dark waving his hands wildly in order to get his attention. Ace wasted no time as he lifted the horn into the air and blew it as fast as he could.

It sounded as though an elephant were trumpeting directly in front of him. It was so loud in fact, that Ace had to plug his ears in response to the massive blast, dropping the can in the process. Once he realized that the sound had stopped he opened his eyes just in time to see Wendell leaping through the air, hammer in hand, poised to clobber the ghost with an overhead blow. A dull thud resounded as Wendell hit his target. A second thud sounded as what he hit in turn hit the floor.

Ace emerged from bhind the counter, expecting to find an unhappy ghost laying before Wendell, but instead he saw an unconscious Randy sprawled across the floor. Ace’s jaw dropped as he stared at Randy there on the floor, and Wendell standing over him with a dumbfounded look on his face.

“Huh, guess it didn’t work.” Wendell said quietly. “No kidding it didn’t work!” Ace shouted at him. “And what made you think hitting a ghost with a hammer would work anyway!?” “If you surprise the spectre first it becomes susceptible to physical attacks.” Wendell said matter-of-factly. He began scratching his chin. He looked around the kitchen for a moment. “Thing is, I was sure it’d be coming around the corner next.” “Well it didn’t. Tough break.” Ace said as he slapped Wendell on the back. “But we need to start talking about you’re methods here buddy.” “Really? You think something’s wrong with how I’m going about this?” “… Probably.” Ace said, looking down at the incapacitated Randy. However, as the two stood there in contemplation, a massive shadow rose up behind them. In a flash, it grabbed Wendell once again by the neck and lifted him into the air. Ace simply stood, continuing to look at Randy, unaware that his comrade had been snatched. “Eh, lets regroup, Wendell.”

As Ace turned to look at Wendell he found him missing. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a blurry thing flying directly for him. In a split second, Wendell collided with Ace, sending the pair flying through the house with incredible velocity, eventually exiting through a side window. They ploughed through the glass and the tree that stood right outside the house, eventually ending up in a bush somewhere in Randy’s yard. After that, they simply lay there, unmoving.

“Alright, now we regroup.” Ace mumbled as his face was full of leaves. “I’ve got a better plan.” Wendell managed between spitting leaves out of his mouth. Ace poked his head out of the plant and looked back at the hole in the side of the house that they had created. His face grew dark with anger as he sneered. “No, I’ve got a better plan.” he said confidently.

Inside the dark house, the silent and stoic shadow of ther ghost crawled through the house without stopping to look at anything in particular. It moved almost as though it knew exactly where it was going. After moving up the stairs it slowly came to a closet door which it proceeded to tear off it’s hinges. Inside the once locked closet there appeared to be only linens and towels, but as the transparent hand of the ghost reached out and tossed aside what was in it’s way it revealed a hiden cashe of sweets.

A veritable treasure trove of candy bars and other delicious snacks were piled behind the dozens of sheets and whatnot that filled the closet. Immediately the ghost began to consume what he had found. However, he was suddenly interrupted by a voice from down the hall.

“Hey, ugly!” the voice blared at the ghost. Down the hall, all that was visible was a mysterious figure that seemed to float. The ghost turned and slowly began making it’s way towards the figure. “That’s right, leave the candy alone chunky.”

The ghost quickly came to the end of the hall where the figure presumably stood, shrouded in shadow. It stopped, looking on with that always blank look on it’s face gazing towards where the voice had been coming from. The figure seemed to sway back and forth ever so slightly.

“Come on buddy, you don’t look so tough to me!” the voice shouted once more. Outside the house, down on the first floor, Ace and Wendell were struggling with a rope. Ace held a megaphone in his right hand. “You sure this is a good idea?” Wendell asked as he looked up at Randy, whom they had tied up and hung outside the hall window. “I mean, what if he gets hurt?” “You’re the one who throttled him with a hammer.” Ace muttered, getting ready to use the mega phone once again. “Good point.” Wendell submitted. “Here goes.” Ace brought the megaphone to his mouth as he held the rope tight with his free hand. “Come on! You don’t seem as eager to beat us up now for some reason!”

As Ace finished he could hear a strange noise emanating from the upstairs window. As soon as he realized what it was he felt his hear skip a beat and he acted as quickly as he could.

“Now Wendell!” he shouted and the two of them gave a powerful heave on the rope, flinging Randy upwards and away from the window. The second he was clear the Bigfoot ghost came flyign directly through the window. It didn’t break it, it simply passed through, but in an odd specatcle it plummeted like a ton of bricks, landing in front of Ace and Wendell. As quick as they could, Ace and Wendell pulled tight on the ends of the net, pulling it shut over the ghost. “Alright! Got it!” Wendell high-fived Ace as the two of them looked at the Bigfoot ghost they had just captured. “This stuff better hold Wendell.” Ace was reluctant to trust any of Wendell’s ’tools of the trade.’ But, it really seemed as though this ghost net had done the trick. It just sat there, looking at them with those dead eyes. “Trust me, this is grade A spirit fiber. It can hold a wale ghost just fine.” Wendell boasted. Just as he was about to go on about his miracle net, a large ghost arm reached through the net and grabbed Wendell around the neck again. “Wale ghost eh?” Ace asked smugly. “It’s being beta tested!” Wendell insisted as he was being choked. “It’ll totally work when it’s done!” “Now isn’t the time!” Ace shouted as The ghost lifted Wendell into the air. In a flash it hurled him across the yard and through the window of his station wagon. After having disposed of Wendell, the ghost simply stood up, the net falling down to the ground around it. It quickly turned it’s attention to Ace who was still standing there. It wasted no time in taking a swing at him.

“Woah!” Ace ducked the hairy ghost hand that was aimed at his head and rolled to one side so he was in the ghost’s blind spot. “Careful ugly, you might hurt someone.”

Ace continued to dodge the ghost as it swung at him again, this time with a broad back hand that came mere inches from hitting him. He leapt back as another swipe followed and then another. Eventually Ace had no choice but to jump through the living room window behind him as the ghost brought both fists down in a rage, displacing the small flower garden that was once beneath the window sill.

Ace rolled through the living room, hitting the tv and knocking it over. He slid until he ran into the couch, finally stopping. He stared up at the ceiling, letting the anger wash over him. Ace roused himself, a look of pure fed-up rage plastered on his face.

“Alright, that’s it,” Ace muttered to himself as he slowly began walking towards the ghost. He clenched his fists as he stepped across the broken glass from the window. He looked the ghost in it’s dead eyes as he closed the gap between them, sneering the whole way. “You threw Wendell around, you knocked me through not one but two windows, and still just standing around like a belligerent cow. I don’t know what you want, but I’m going to knock that stupid look of your face all the same you goddamn Bigfoot ghost.” “Sasquach apparition!” Wendell yelled from inside his car. “Whatever!” Ace jumped over what remained of the wall he had crashed through and ran for the ghost’s lumbering form, which filled his vision now. As he neared colliding with ghost, it raised a hand as though to thwart him, but Ace stopped dead in his tracks, instead pointing past it’s shoulder out into space. “Look! It’s the ghost of Christmas past!”

The stubborn ghost hesitated, turning to see if Ace was correct. In that split second Ace leapt into the air, landing a heavy blow to it’s head, surprisingly sending the ghost flying backwards. As it toppled back, the Bigfoot ghost seemed to moan loudly and then quiver violently. Ace looked on in confusion.

“Holy shit! I punched a friggin’ ghost!” Ace stammered, looking at his hand in wonder. However, the Bigfoot seemed to get worse as he continued to shake and eventually started to melt. Ace suddenly understood what was going on. “Good shot!” Wendell shouted from behind the ghost as he held a strange contraption out of his car’s side window. At first it appeared to be a gun, but there were wires coming off of it and sticking straight into the ghost’s back. In a few more seconds the ghost trembled and eventually sunk to the ground where it melted into nothing but vapor.

Ace stood still for a moment, making sure it was all clear. Casually he stepped forward, kicking the browned grass where the ghost had once been. Now there was nothing, and some slight smoke rose off the ground and into the night sky. He looked back to Wendell who was climbing out of the station wagon.

“What the hell was that? Some kind of ghost disintegrator?” Ace asked. “Nope,” Wendell began coiling up the wires that hung out of the gun. “just a stun gun.” “Really?” Ace seemed disappointed. “That’s sort of lame…” “You think so?” Wendell seemed satisfied as he tucked the gun back into his tool belt. “Well yeah. And besides, how the hell did that work anyway?” “You stunned it, caught it off guard. That allowed me an opportunity to put it down with conventional means.” “Well I’ll be dipped. That was weird as hell.” “Yeah, that was my first time really seeing one too.” “Seriously!? I thought you did this for a living?” “I did. But I told you, no one needed any ghost removing, so I closed up shop.” “No kidding…”

Ace lit up another cigarette, leaning next to Wendell against his car. The moon had come out, and the two men found themselves at the end of a job averagely done. Ace looked up at the sky and contemplated what he had seen tonight, wondering if it was even worth his time. Suddenly he remembered Randy.

“Holy shit! I forgot all about Randy!” Ace blurted as he jumped up and began scanning the yard. “Who?” Wendell asked earnestly. “The guy who hired me to take care of the ghost.” “Oh! He’s still up there.” Wendell pointed up at the roof. As Ace looked up he found Randy, his arms still bound by the ropes, hanging from the point of the roof. “Should we get him down?” “Well I guess we should, if we want to get paid that is.” Ace said with an air of detachment. “My house!” A voice screeched from behind them. Both Ace and Wendell turned around to see who it was, and they found a middle aged woman with her hands on her bewildered face. “Who are you?” Ace asked, a little off put by the woman. “Excuse me?!” The woman shouted. “I live here! Who the hell are you?!” “Oh… I guess you could call us exterminators.” Ace smiled and gave the woman a half hearted salute. “Yeah, nothing to worry about. We took care of the problem.” Wendell followed in suit, placing two fingers against his forehead. “What problem!? Where the hell is my husband!?” she continued to yell her head off. “Oh… I guess you mean Randy.” Ace nodded reluctantly towards the roof. The woman gave him a confused look at first, but followed his gaze up to where Randy hung like a big sack of meat. “Oh my god! Randal!” she screamed and bolted for her husband. “Randal! Can you hear me?!” “Huh…?” Randy groggily came back to consciousness at the yelps of his wife. He shook his head for a moment before finally coming too completely. He looked down at his wife and a look of shock came over him. “Linda! You’re home early.” “Early? Randal what’s going on here!?” Linda asked, her demeanor quickly changing from shocked and concerned wife to angry homeowner. ‘Well Linda, after you left this… thing showed up in the house.” Randy began explaining, still tied up and hanging from the roof. “What ’thing’ Randal?” Linda demanded, her patience wearing. “Well I guess it was a Bigfoot ghost,” Randy started. “right?” “Sasquach apparition.” Wendell corrected him. “Whatever…” Ace interjected. “A ghost?” Linda seemed to only grow more confused. “I called in someone to help me get rid of it, and…” Randy looked over at Ace questioningly. “… did we…” “Yeah, we took care of it.” Ace confirmed, nodding his head as he did so. “And they took care of it Linda.” Randy smiled as he said this. He waited for Linda to say something but she just glared for the moment. “And why Randal, are you hung from the roof like that?” Linda asked, tapping her foot in anticipation of an answer. “Uh…” Randy again looked at Ace for what to say. “Oh, he was uh…” Ace looked at Wendell for a second, trying to figure out something to say. “Bait, ouch!” Wendell started but was silenced by Ace hitting him upside the head. “He was luring the ghost out of hiding so we could… uh.” Ace continued to bullshit. “Neutralize it.” Wendell interjected. “That’s the term we use in the industry.” “Of course. Randy lured it out and we neutralized it.” Ace promptly smiled as he was satisfied with his statement. “See honey, there’s nothing to worry about. Everything’s taken care of.” Randy smiled at her as well. He was uneasy about his wife’s response, but he seemed oddly comfortable hanging there tied up.

Randy’s wife on the other hand, simply glared at the mess that had become her home. She writhed with a temper that was practically visible from where Ace and Wendell were standing. Her silence was frightening as she merely took a step near the house, crunching some glass underfoot. Her folded arms twitched as she looked inside at her ravaged living room. Suddenly, Ace could feel a tap on his shoulder. It was Wendell, and he was silently motioning for the two of them to get in the car and get out of there. Ace couldn’t have agreed more, but the second he made any movement towards getting in the car, Linda spoke.

“So who the hell’s going to clean all this up Randal?” she asked with that knowing tone of voice. It was automatic, and it made both Ace and Wendell sweat bullets, but Randy quickly looked at the two of them as she asked this. “Hmmm?” “Well uh…” Randy was hesitant to say anything at all, but Ace could tell he was waiting for a chance to rope them into it too. However, before Randy got his chance, a cell pone began ringing somewhere. Ace looked around to see where it was coming from, but mysteriously, it seemed to be coming from Wendell. Wendell nonchalantly pulled a small silver phone out of his pocket. He flipped it open and put it against his ear.

“Wendell here.” he said as he turned away from the spectacle at hand. “Yes, that’s right. Uh huh. No kidding? Yes, of course. No, not in a while… yes tonight actually. Uh huh. Why thank you, I’ll accept right away. No, thank you sir. Yes, goodnight.”

Wendell put the phone back in his pocket and turned back to Ace and the others. He simply looked on for a moment. After Ace urged him on with an expectant look he looked surprised and began explaining.

“Oh uh, looks like we’ve got another job already.” Wendell said. “We should probably get going huh?” “Huh?” Ace seemed confused at first, but as soon as he realized this way his way out he decided to play along. “Oh! right, we need to get moving then I suppose.” “Oh, so you’re just leaving then?” Linda seemed skeptical. “Listen Mr. Exterminator, I don’t know who you think you are, but this isn’t going to slide.” “Sorry ma’am, duty calls.” Ace quickly pulled open the door to Wendell’s car and stepped inside. Wendell had already jumped into the other side, fastening his safety belt. “We’ll be calling you as soon as things die down!” “Oh really?” Linda was about to explode. “Randal! What do you plan to do about this?!” “Uh…” Randy searched for the right words to say. “I’m going to have to get back to you on that one Linda.”

The station wagon roared to life and in a flash began chugging on down the street. Ace looked back as Randy’s incensed wife laid into him. He couldn’t help but laugh at it, but it was definitely a situation he didn’t want anything with.

“Well, I feel bad for Randy,” Ace began, reclining in the front seat of the car. “but you gotta do what you gotta do. Good call on the fake job thing though.” “Fake job?” Wendell asked, confused. “The one you made up so we could get out of there.” Ace reminded him. “I didn’t make it up.” Wendell drove on confidently. “You’re kidding. There really is another job?” Ace was confounded. “That’s way too big a coincidence.” “You think so.” “Well, don’t you? I mean you get your first real job in how many years, and all of the sudden you get another one the same night? It’s a little fishy.” “When it rains it pours I guess.” “Huh, you’re one hell of an optimist, aren’t you?” “I just go with the flow I guess.” ‘Yeah yeah, well you can count me out.” “Really?” “Yeah, I need to get to bed. I’m bushed.” “But we were such a good team, and you seemed really excited about it too.” “That may be true, but I don’t have the energy tonight.” “Ah man, I’m sort of depressed now.” “Sorry Wendell, but this isn’t what I do for a living you know. Besides, you should be happy you’ve got more work now.” “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Wendell seemed almost to shrink as he agreed with Ace. He seemed depressed now, simply having been shot down like that took the wind out of his sails. He kept driving without making a big deal out of it. “So where should I drop you?” “Oh, just drop me off at my office.” Ace said, flicking his cigarette out the busted window. The car pulled up in front of Sparkle Mutt, and idled for a moment. Ace prepared to disembark, but stopped and turned to Wendell. “Say, did you want to come in for a drink or something?” Ace offered. “Oh, uh, no. I should get going.” it seemed oddly difficult for Wendell to decline, but he did all the same. Ace looked at him a little unsure, but he knew there wasn’t a lot of sense in trying to convince him. “Alright. Well it was a pleasure working with you Wendell.” Ace extended his hand. Wendell nodded in agreement and reached his hand out as well. The two men shook hands and then shortly thereafter parted ways as Ace stepped out of the station wagon and walked slowly to the front door of Sparkle Mutt. Before he could turn around to say anything else to Wendell, the car had already pulled out and was on it’s way down the street. Ace looked on as it drove off and around the corner. He smiled to himself and removed the keys to the office from his pocket. “Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.”

The next morning came with a harsh bang as Ace jumped out of his bed, striking his head on the shelf that hung above him. He quickly grabbed the spot where a lump was already developing. He sat there cringing as the phone continued to ring. “Goddammit…” Ace stood up and meandered over to the phone in the corner of the room. “Hello?” “Ace?” the voice on the other end was familiar, but Ace still had no idea who it was. “That’s right, who’s this?” Ace scratched his stomach as he plopped back down on his bed. He looked at the clock on the wall which read 6:45. “Ace, it’s Wendell, Wendell Rastafarian.” “Wendell?” Ace seemed surprised to hear from him. “What’s up?” “I know it’s a little sudden, but I was wondering if you wanted to do another job.” “A job?” Ace looked at the clock again. He grimaced at the thought of working this early in the morning. “I don’t think so Wendell, it’s pretty early in the morning.” “Hey, before you go and decline me like that, can I at least ask you what you’ve got planned instead?”

Ace hesitated before answering. He rummaged through the crap on his floor until he unearthed a small black day planner. He flipped it open and quickly skimmed to the week of the 5th. A disappointed look spread across his face as he saw ’garbage day’ was the only thing written in on the current day.

“Gah… surprised I had the gumption to write that down…” Ace muttered to himself. “What’s that?” Wendell asked after hearing Ace’s little quip. “Oh, nothing.” Ace placed a hand on his face, sighing loudly as he thought about what he was about to do. “I’ve got nothing going on today Wendell.” “So then maybe you’d like to give it another try?” “… why not? Anything’s better than coming up with a new business for the month.” “Great! I’ll meet you at your office in an hour then.” “Yeah, see you then.” “See you”

After Ace hung up he sat on his bed staring at his rinky-dink apartment. He looked at his attached kitchen and bath. He looked at the clothes on the floor and the mountain of mail inhabiting the space beside the front door. He looked at the six different pots that were sitting on the stove, each with a different slop fermenting inside. He looked at the almost tear-inducing stack of “Balloon Busters” flyers falling over on the kitchen table. He looked at the no vacancy roach motel sitting to his left in the corner. He looked at his stack of comics and his broken computer, his Bud Light lamp and the overturned plastic milk crate that it sat on .

He sat there, still thinking for a while, just looking at what he had managed to accumulate in the past 2 years of his life, meditating on exactly what it all amounted to. When he finally stood up to get dressed he decided that the answer to that was “nothing.”

“What the hell,” he said, looking into the mirror. “Why not try ghost busting for a while?”

2006 Pat Dangle