Ta-da! Check out my new camera, baby!


Okay, okay: First let me get out of my pearl white hatchback with black spoiler.


Ladies and gentlemen, we are now watching one Katie Smith get out of her pearl white hatchback with black spoiler. Oh, here: Let me zoom in on that cute little nose of yours. Isn't that precious, folks?!


Whoa! Now, that's a big camera. I hope you didn't break the bank to buy it.


Are you kidding? I earned the full retail price for this baby in just one half-hour of options trading on the NASDAQ exchange this morning.


My husband, the day trader.


Hey, listen, babe, I'm tellin' you: You need money, just tell me how much and when, and I'll go downstairs to my laptop and manipulate Wall Street accordingly.


Okay, I believe you: Now kindly stop poking that NIKON D90 up my nasal passages and help me get these grocery bags inside.


And the great thing is, it's all legal!


Technically, yes: but I'm still afraid that President Obama is going to find out what you're up to and then single you out as an enemy of the people on the 6:00 news.


Well, you know what they say, babe: There's no such thing as bad publicity.


Be careful, that's all I'm saying, Micah. I mean, here we are in the worst economy since the Great Depression and you're sat there buying new expensive electronic gizmos hand over fist, every chance you get, for all the neighbors to see, even. (Oh, rats: This isn't turkey soup, it's chicken noodle!)


Well, if you feel that you ought to spank me tonight for my economic crimes, I'd understand, Katie. I guess I have been a trifle naughty at that.


You should be so lucky.


Aww, come on, hon: Teach me: I'm willing to learn!


What they ought to do is appoint a national Greed Czar and have her spank you on the 6:00 news. That would teach you.


Well, you know me, dear: I'll do anything for my country.


You would, wouldn't you, you pervert?


Are you saying I'm a masocha-- a masocho-- are you saying I'm Hugh Masekela?!


I can see it now: "And this is for disingenuously shorting your position in Bank of America preferred stock: WHAM!!!"


Hey, you take that back or -- or I won't carry this enormous bag of kitty litter into the garage for you -- speaking of which, we don't have a cat, you idiot: what were you thinking of?!


It's for the grease stains on the cement in the garage, you fool.


Oh, yeah. I knew that.


I just hope that that high-end camera of yours doesn't intimidate the very ghost that we're hoping to get evidence of. (Put these diet Mountain Dews away in the pantry for me, would you, dear?)


But I thought you were TRYING to scare the bugger off.


To scare it off, yes, but I'm afraid you're going to piss it off, instead.


WHERE in the pantry, babe?


Up there with the other sodas on the top shelf near the water heater!


Anyway, what can an angry ghost do besides rattle a few chains and rap on a parlor table?


I don't know, hon, but I'm not sure that I want to find out. (Damn, and these aren't Rice Krispies, either! This recent spate of spiritual manifestations are really distracting me.)

*Chapter2*





Oh, honey, there's no way that we are going to sleep in this bed with that camera filming us all night long!


Now, Katie, I agreed to help you investigate this spirit that is haunting you, right?


Yeah? So?


So, you've got to let me try things my way for a while, okay?


Oh, very well, but it still feels weird.


You'll get used to it -- besides, you have the easiest on-screen camera role in movie history: all you have to do is sleep!


Now, that's one thing I can definitely do -- especially tonight after the grueling workout of grocery shopping.


You call that a grueling workout?


Well, relatively speaking, at least. I mean, what do either of us do all day for the most part but sit around the house and listen for odd noises that are at least theoretically ascribable to spooks?


Too true.


Yes, I'm supposedly a quote-unquote 'student,' but have you ever seen me going to class?


You've got a point there.


And then suddenly, I'm out there in the big wide world, maneuvering warily around morbidly obese parents in the snack aisle, with their overloaded shopping carts full of Pepsi Light, 12-pack toilet tissue, megapacks of mini microwaveable cheeseburgers, and two ankle biters in the back seat screaming blue bloody murder for absolutely no discernible reason whatsoever!


Poor girl: I'll tell you what: We'll get our groceries delivered next time, how's that?


You're so good to me.


Then neither of us will have to so much as open a curtain, much less leave the safety of our new split-level tract house.


Sounds like a plan.


That's settled then. Now, how about that spanking that you promised me?


Oh, shut up and go to sleep! (What a perv I've got for a boyfriend!)


Yeah, whatever: At least give me an all-purpose hug and kiss, then.


Oh, very well. Come here, ya big lug.


Tut-tut-tut: Tongue extended, if you please, madam! House rules, remember.


My, my! Whatever will the ghost think of THIS!


Look at it this way: If the ghost blushes, it will show up all the better on the video that we're recording of it.


Okay, okay: Time out!


You can't call 'time out' in the middle of a passionate embrace like that, especially when I'm running my hand back and forth across your thigh like this: see? back and forth, back and forth...


No, seriously, Micah. I want to get some sleep now, if only to give my spirit a (ahem!) ghost of a chance of getting caught on film tonight.


Very funny, dear.


I thought so.


Oh, very well. Ooh, I feel like we're two kids waiting for Santa Claus!


Yeah. Now if only this spirit of mine were a jolly old elf!






Hey, stop that!


Huh? What?


That's not funny, Katie, I was sleeping!


What's not funny? What are you talking about?


Oh, come on, you know very well that you just spanked me on the you-know-what?!


I did not, Micah! I was wide asleep! I COULDN'T have spanked you on the you-know-what!


No fibbing, Katie. The entire incident has been caught on camera, remember, so we'll know for certain in the morning if you did it!


I tell you I was wide asleep when you were supposedly spanked on your you-know-what!


Well, okay, I'll suspend judgment for now, I suppose... but I have a good mind to spend the rest of the evening on the couch!


It must have been my ghost!


You think? Well, that's mighty cheeky of it, then. Why is it spanking ME if it's supposed to be obsessed with YOU?!


How should I know. Maybe it mistook you for me since we were both almost completely hidden under the covers.


I didn't realize that ghosts made those sorts of mistakes.


Well, they're only human --


What?


Look, I don't know: I'm not an expert on such things. We'll just have to call a specialist first thing in the morning and see what THEY think.


I still think it was you, you sly thing.


Me?


Yes, you in your new role of Natasha, the evil school marm!


What nonsense: It was not ME, okay? I did not spank you!


Fine, we'll just wait for the instant replay, then, shall we?


Just because you're Hugh Masekela doesn't mean that I myself am a sadist!


Whatever. Good night Again. Natasha.


Oh, shut up.

*Chapter3*




See, Micah, I'm at the other side of the bed when you were spanked!


Weird, you can hear the thwack, but there's no one there to do the thwacking!


That settles it: I'm calling Dr. Larson.


Oh, very well: But I should warn you, I'll probably laugh in his face in spite of myself.


Well, if this is all so silly, then who spanked you last night, big boy: tell me that?


I don't know, honey, but there must be some logical explanation for what happened.


Like what, Micah? Like what?


I don't know yet -- give me time.


You can take all the time you want, but meanwhile I'm meeting with Dr. Larson. (Quiet, his phone's ringing now.) Hello, is this renowned parapsychologist Lag Larson? My name is Katie Diablo. I was wondering, um... do you make house calls in the greater San Diego area?

Uh-huh. Oh, and I have a coupon for 10% off of your ghost-busting services from an insert in the San Diego Union-Tribune of May 22nd of last year? Is that offer still good?

What's that? No, I wouldn't be combining that discount with any other offer.



Excellent! We'll see you this afternoon, then. My address is...




So, please, tell me all about yourselves.


Oh, boy, here we go.


Never mind that skeptic, Dr. Larson. I'm the one who's actually being haunted.


Um, excuse me: What about the spanking that I received last night?


Oh, yes: Michael here was indeed subject to a spiritual manifestation of sorts last night.


Yeah, we have it on film: complete with my bloodcurdling cry -- for which I expect to win an Oscar, by the way, when I finally market this faux-reality garbage to Universal Pictures for countless megabucks.


Micah!


Ah, so you're making these recordings for profit, then?


Hey, listen, if we can both catch the culprit and feather our tract house, what's wrong with that? It sounds like a win/win situation to me.


But, Mr. Micah, my good sir: The spirit world is very sensitive about such things.


Oh, really?


Yes. If they think for one moment that you are exploiting them for personal gain, they can get quite nasty.


You think that's why they spanked me, then?


It could very well be. Please, let me see the tape.






Yeah, see, right here, when the spirit lifts the blanket to let you have it on the derriere...


Yes, yes?


If you look closely, you can see the impression of bony fingers on the blanket. Here, let me stop the film and zoom in for you. There. You see that?


Well, what do you know: I was actually spanked by a ghost --


By MY ghost, Micah.


So, what does this mean, Doc? Is the ghost going to be persecuting me from now on instead of Katie here?


It's too soon to say -- only I'm afraid this isn't an actual ghost.


You're kidding me?


I've been in this business for 25 years (ever since my Jack-in-the-Box business failed out in Fresno during the chainwide food poisoning scare back in 1993) and I have never heard of another case in which a human being has been spanked by a ghost.


Aha.


Well, then what sort of entity are we dealing with here?


I'm afraid it sounds like a... demon!


Oh, poor Micah! It looks like I've gone and got you mixed up with demons!


Yeah, thanks a lot, sweetie. What are friends for, huh? Of course, ideally, you would have told me years ago about all of the parapsychological baggage that you were smuggling into our relationship -- filled out a customs form with our presiding priest or SOMETHING!


How was I supposed to know that I was being hounded by a full-blown demon? I always assumed until now that I was being visited by a simple, everyday ghost.


Well, not to worry, right? 'cause Mr. Larson here will help us, won't you, Professor?


Oh, no, I'm afraid I can't do that.


What? And why not?


Look, my specialty is ghosts, all right? I exorcise them, I talk with them, I locate them by way of the relatively innocuous vibes that they send out.


Yeah?


Well, the fact is that I'm not certified to work with demons. That's a specialty service that only a few professionals in the world can
provide.


You're kidding me, right?


Not at all: It takes years of study -- not to mention twice the pretentious chutzpah that I myself can muster at any one sitting.


Oh, dear. Well, can you recommend somebody else?


Yes, I can, as a matter of fact. There's a Dr. Avries in Pennsylvania who has a great track record exorcising demons -- and don't worry, he has a great wardrobe, too, even better than my own, so he looks very official indeed, notwithstanding the shameful absence of impressive degrees available in my field thanks to the well-known paranormal prejudices of the Ivy League.


Sounds good.


Now, here's the dude's phone number, okay?


Oh, thank you, doctor.


Now, good luck: And let me know what goes on tonight in your bedroom.


I beg your pardon?


Anything ghost-related, I mean.


Oh, right.


And whatever you do, try not to piss the demon off any more than you already apparently have. Ghosts don't particularly care if we fail to believe in them, of course -- indeed they often prefer that we ignore them completely, such is their craving for peace and quiet in the afterlife -- but demons are seldom so sanguine in this regard.


Oh, really?


If they feel for one moment that you're taking them for granted, they will bust you one right in the chops, mister.


In the chops, Doctor?


Metaphorically speaking, I mean.


Kate, where did you find this guy?


Oh, and one final thing...


Yes?


Yes?


Whatever you do, resist the temptation to summon this entity with a Ouija Board .


Micah wouldn't dare -- would you, Micah?


Apparently not. But what's the problem with a Ouija Board ?


Let's just put it this way: If the Consumer Products Safety Commission knew how many spiritual mediums were killed each year in the United States by the use (or should I say the misuse?) of a Ouija Board , they'd have banned the things years ago.


Oh, dear.


Don't get me wrong: simple ghosts are often keen to play along with that device and will even help you spell out their name with it (albeit in a laborious process that in retrospect seldom seems justified timewise in light of the meager and usually superficial results that it returns), but demons are offended by the mere sight of such a gizmo, much in the way that vampires are put off by garlic.


So you're saying that a Ouija Board can never be used to contact spirits?


Oh, knock yourself out if you're just using them to contact your dearly departed loved ones ("Aunt Gladys, do you read me, over?") but only licensed operators of a Ouija Board should ever attempt to contact actual demons with the things.


Thank you so much, Dr. Larson. I'll call Dr. Avries right away.


Sorry I couldn't have been of more assistance, but like I say, I'm not licensed to work with demons, only with our dearly departed loved ones.


We understand.


Speak for yourself.


Thank you very much. Bye-bye.


Yeah, so long, Professor Hamburger. Har har!




Micah, you didn't have to be so rude to the guy!


I'm sorry, honey, but this stuff seems silly to me, all right?


Well, all I can say is that you didn't find it very silly last night when that demon of ours was paddling you like a rowboat.


Ouch, that's right. Speaking of the devil, I'm going to throw some baby powder on the floor in the bedroom before we go to bed tonight so that this time we'll see the tracks of any would-be spanker -- er, I mean demon.


No, Micah! You're just going to piss it off even more -- Dr. Larson as much as said so.


Yeah, well, Dr. Larson's not a successful day trader walking around his new tract house with a sore tush today, is he?


But --


Besides, honey, I hate to point this out, but I myself was demon-free until I met you.


Oh, yeah...


Now, I'm more than willing to help you fight this thing (this 'bugaboo writ large', if you will) but you can't give somebody a contagious disease like this and then proceed to tell them what drugs that they can and cannot use to overcome it.


Oh, fine, then: sprinkle the baby powder on the floor -- but I am not the one who's going to clean it up in the morning!


Yes, dear. Yes, dear. Yes, dear.

*Chapter4*







Ow!


Wha-- what happened?!


The damn thing spanked me again, Katie!


Oh, no!


Demon, listen! I know you can hear me, and I am through playing games!


Quiet, Micah You're going to piss it off still further!


Besides, you're supposed to be tormenting Katie, here, remember? Not me!


Micah!


Well, that's true, isn't it, Katie? You're the one that came into this relationship of ours with a bad case of demonitis about which you failed to inform your poor unsuspecting boyfriend!


Relax, honey! We'll call Dr. Avries in the morning and settle this once and for all!


Hey, wait: The baby powder! I wonder if the wretch left any footprints!




Yep. Looks like a size 7, in fact.


Amazing!


Now let me trace it back here and see where the trail begins...


Well?


Why, you sly dog: The trail begins right at YOUR side of the bed!


I swear it wasn't me, Micah. You saw the tapes for yourself yesterday morning and I was sawing z's during your entire paddling.


Where is my phone? I'm calling that Avries dude right now!


At 03:22:01:05 in the morning and counting? (03:22:01:06, 03:22:01:07...?)


This is an emergency. Hello? Damn, it's a recording.

*RECORDING*Thank you for calling the office of Professor Charles Fensterbaron Avries III, Associate Professor of Advanced Demonology at the Ogden County Vocational School on the Campus of Luzerne Community College in Hazleton, Pennsylvania. If you know your parties extension, you may dial it at any time.*RECORDINGEND*


Oh, great.



*RECORDING*We're sorry, but Professor CHARLES FENSTERBARON AVRIES THE THIRD is currently in VILLARS, SWITZERLAND for the purposes of SKIING AND DRINKING VODKA WITH UNIDENTIFIED GIRLFRIEND, BAY-BEE! WHOO-HOOO!*RECORDINGEND*


Wow, these answering machines are really becoming sophisticated these days.

*RECORDING*If you would like to leave a message for Professor CHARLES FENSTERBARON AVRIES THE THIRD, please say YES now.*RECORDINGEND*


Yes!

*RECORDING*I'm sorry, I did not understand your response. If you would like to leave a message for Professor CHARLES FENSTERBARON AVRIES THE THIRD, please say YES now.*RECORDINGEND*


YES, already!

*RECORDING*I'm sorry, I did not understand your response. If you would like to leave a message for Professor CHARLES FENSTERBARON AVRIES THE THIRD, please say YES now.*RECORDINGEND*


YES, you idiot!



*RECORDING*Please hold while I connect you with that number (ya damn hothead).*RECORDINGEND*


Say what?

*RECORDING*Thank you for calling the Advanced Demonology Department at the Ogden County Vocational School on the Campus of Luzerne Community College in Hazleton, Pennsylvania. Our office hours are 9:30 to 4 P.M., Monday through Friday. Please call back at that time. Thank you. Goodbye.*RECORDINGEND*


Well?


It's back to bed, I suppose.


At last!


But I've got my eye on you now, girl.


I swear to you --


Yes, sir, you are now a 'person of interest' in my paranormal investigation.


Well, ahem, there is an easy way to exonerate me.


And what's that?


Just take fingerprints from your...


Oi! That's not gonna happen!

*Chapter5*






This life of ours is just too easy, Katie.


How do you mean?


Well, it's scarcely 9 A.M. and I've already earned enough money today to put any theoretical children of ours through Harvard, and merely by putting a few anonymous traders out there through the financial wringer.


Do you really think we should, though?


What, have a child, you mean? And why not?


Well, first of all: It would probably mean that we'd have to leave this tract house and actually go outside in the real world at least once almost every single day!


Oooh, you're right.


And we'd surely have to open the blinds occasionally so that the neighbors wouldn't think that we were psychologically crippling our child with an atmosphere of claustrophobic gloom.


You're right, I suppose -- but what's that in your hand?


Oh, it's nothing.


Don't be silly, it's a crucifix.


Oh, really? I hadn't noticed.


Oh, God, your hand is bleeding, too!


You're kidding me. (Well, fancy that!)


What's more, you've got cuts, bites and assorted scrapes on your leg here.


Well, I'll be!


Moreover, you're now looking at me with a highly inappropriate leer, licking your nether lip, and even running a probing index finger around my own lips, as if in erotic supplication for some sort of blasphemous carnal rendezvous, the degrading upshot of which --


All right, already, Joan Collins: A word to the wise is sufficient.


Then put your curled tongue back in your mouth and come with me to the medicine cabinet so that I can see to those inexplicable wounds that you've just received.


Oh, right. Sorry.


Honestly, Katie, You are no longer the woman that I married!


But we're not married, Micah! We're just living together.


Oh, right, I forgot. Well, then you're no longer the same tactful sex kitten that I've been stringing along for ages now and that I WOULD have married long ago if I weren't a self-absorbed nihilistic homebody with an absurd obsession for expensive electronic gizmos.


That's more like it.


Now, then: Here's a band-aid for your inexplicable stigmata -- while we're waiting for Dr. Hamburger to take a look at it.


Dr. Hamburger?


You know, that Larson character. I took the liberty of booking him for another emergency house call this afternoon after that colleague of his evinced such breathtaking unprofessionalism on that answering machine message.


Good thinking.


Only imagine: He couldn't come to the phone because he was, quote-unquote, 'skiing and drinking vodka, bay-bee!' -- with an unidentified girlfriend, no less!


How shameful of him!


Oh, well, it's like they say, I suppose: 'It's nice work if you can get it.'


Now, come on, baby: Kiss me inappropriately -- RIGHT NOW!


Katie, snap out of it! I'm a good Christian, after all.


Oh, sorry.


Well, I say 'good.' I've fallen at times like everybody else, of course.


I stand corrected.


In fact, folks say I was the only child they know who routinely had to stay after school in Sunday school.


Really?


Can I help it if I'm a 'work in progress,' morally speaking?


I said KISS ME -- excitingly -- NOW!


Now, cut that out, Katie! That's what my Sunday school teacher used to call lascivious importunity, and I'm not having it. She said it was deadly sin #10b-- it's a sort of hybrid, you understand, a subcategory of wanton lust, if I remember rightly.


Come again, darling?


Enough with your double entendres, too, baby: There's a time and place for everything, you know!


Oh, very well.


How about next weekend, for example, at the Westgate Hotel? I'm told they have a fantastic suite on the 19th floor with a step-out balcony providing an excellent view of both the harbor and the ocean!

*Chapter6*




Thanks for coming back. I need your guidance.


What's happening?


A lot has happened since you left: For starters, Katie has essentially gone out of her mind!


Yes, yes?


Although in fairness, she's actually sexier now than she's ever been in her sane lifetime...


Well, you know what they say: It's an ill wind that doesn't blow somebody some good.


I mean, meow, Doctor! ME-FREAKIN'-OW!


Please, Micah, let's stay on topic here.


Oh, yeah, sorry. Plus, I found her holding a bloody crucifix this morning."


Yes, yes?


Meanwhile, don't ask me why, but I'm being paddled each and every night at around 3 A.M. by an invisible school marm!


Very interesting. But how do you know that this invisible entity is a school marm?


Well, for one thing, it has a sort of husky female European voice and says things like: "Bad Micah! That's a naughty Micah! That's a bad, naughty, EVIL Micah!"


I see.


And of course, between every such snide declamation, she's like WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!


Yep, that's a school marm, all right: I'd recognize that M.O. anywhere.


What can it all mean, Doctor?


Well, the spirit is obviously trying to distract you while it merges its apparently demonic soul with that of your wife in the bed beside you.


Aha! But I've never heard of any spirits, demonic or otherwise, actually spanking a person like this. It seems gauche somehow -- not to mention extremely embarrassing for the party concerned.


As for the spirit's unusual modus operandi, it must have heard or seen something over the course of the last few weeks that convinced it that spanking you would be the ideal way to distract you from your caretaker role on behalf of your wife.


Really?


Think back: Have you said or done anything that could lead a local spirit to draw this conclusion?


Well, I did facetiously suggest that Katie should spank me a few days ago for some dubious option trading that I had been doing on Wall Street.


I see.


And then Katie, for her part, suggested that President Obama should appoint a Greed Czar to thrash me on the evening news.


Ah, see? The spirit obviously picked up on that.


But I was just kidding, Doc. I'm not really into kinky stuff like that!


Maybe not consciously, but we all have a little bit of the devil on the inside of us.


Hey, are you saying that I'm Hugh Masekela?


I'm not here to judge, Micah: I'm here to help.


Well, then help.


That is, I WAS here to help -- but I told you people that I don't deal with demons. It's in my contract. You will have to call Dr. Avries.


We did, and he's living it up shamelessly in some Swiss villa with an unidentified girlfriend.


Well, I'm sorry, you'll just have to hang on until he gets back. The unions would give me hell if I started mucking about with demons on an unlicensed basis.


Where are you going?


I'm sorry, I have to leave. The demon is probably pissed off that I'm even here right now!


But what should I do?


I don't know, um... Wear extra padding tonight ... and whatever you do, keep one eye on your wife at all times. I don't care how lasciviously that school marm scolds you and calls you a naughty, evil wicked, bad Micah! Don't let her gain the upper hand by appealing to your innermost feelings of mascho- maschi-


Of Hugh Masekela, doc?


Close enough. Now goodbye!

*Chapter7*





Right. Did you hear that, honey? We're on our own tonight -- but we'll get through somehow.


Beelzebub! Belial! Ebru Labadon! Yabba Dabba Dooooo!


You took the words right out of my mouth, dear. Now, come to bed, would you? It's late and we may as well get this thing over with, one way or another. With any luck, you'll be your old self tomorrow.


Grrr!


Although, I must say, there are a few things you could learn from this demon on the sexuality front.


Grrr-grrr!


That's the spirit -- only no spanking tonight, yes?


Grrr-grrr!


Well, okay, maybe a little: but be gentle this time, for heaven's sake!






Aha! Fooled you, demon: I had a frying pan under my bed clothes!


Grrrrrr!


Katie, it's you!


Grrrrrr!


Where did the demon go, Katie? Help me look!


Grrrrrr!


Save it for the Westgate Hotel, Katie. Right now we've got to find that demon!


I AM THE DEMON, YOU FOOL!


Come again?




All right, fine: We'll call it even, then, sweetie, shall we? Let's roll the credits now, guys: I think the home viewer gets the general idea by now! The demon triumphs and I'm eventually killed. THE END. I'm EVENTUALLY killed, Katie, all right? Eventually! Now roll the credits, folks!


This movie HAS no credits, you fool...


Really? What bad luck.


So I'll have to roll YOU instead!