Unfinished Business

Melinda Gordon leaned against her car, drinking coffee ((or some other likable beverage, I don't know, I can't see inside her cup and I don't follow her around 24/7)). She glanced up, a flash of colour flitting through the crowd, a humanoid figure to be exact, looking pale and drawn ((like every damnable ghost in the series)). Her eyes followed this person, and took in as many details as I can be bothered coming up with: She was a woman in her early 20's, shoulder length wiry brown hair, horn rimmed glasses framing shining teary-blue irised eyes which seemed red from misery of some sort. Her ruby red lips and the rest of her makeup for that matter, was smudged and streaked. The figures grasping hands, veined and clammy, alternated between gripping her own arms, stomach, chest, fidgeting or fiddling with various items of clothing.

The woman was still crying slightly as Melinda caught her attention while she's had been pleading with a stranger ((who can't hear her, much to her distress - because, surprise surprise...he can't see ghosts, much less hear them O.o)).

The ghost stumbled across the road, following the stranger, still jabbering on, clutching at him, herself, everybody around her. Sighing, Melinda stalks over, intent on putting this stupid scenario to an end, so she can go have crazy "I helped a dead person, you saved dying people" sex with her husband/boytoy/whatever. Melinda dragged the poor woman over to the carpark Slut-Ghost was shoved into the car roughly, Melinda sitting herself down, grasping the steering wheel and running her hands along the gearstick, thinking of Mr. Boytoy....um...anyways.

((Author stealthily climbs into trunk))

"So...how'd you get like this?" Melinda decided to be to the point, she was in desperate need of loving, as her boytoy had just got off work today.

"Like a whore? Running about on the streets throwing myself at people who don't even register my presence! How?!" Slut-Ghost 'breathed' deeply.

Melinda gestures at the milling mass of extras. "They can't see you."

"They don't WANT to see me."

"You're dead, a ghost, a phantasmical entity, a copy of your conciousness imprinted on the earth, a - "

"Excuse me? I'm not dead, thats impossible. I'm sitting here talking, aren't I?"

"What year is it?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"What year is it?"

"2005. Everybody knows that!"

"No...it isn't."

"Excuse me?"

Melinda shows the woman a newspaper marked Saturday 3rd Jan 2009.

"Thats...impossible...how did you do that..? Haha funny Casper! Okay, you got me, you little bitch!"

*author slides into the back seat*

"Look, Slut-Ghost and Melinda, can we hurry this along? Its been done to death and I have somewhere to be at four...excuse the pun."

((Melinda and Slut-Ghost agree, because there really is no more new scenarios that can be used...))

"Casper?"

"...my boyfriend...oh god, please tell me this is a joke." - pleads.

"No. Its real, sorry to disappoint." - Melinda jerks her thumb at the author, who is twiddling his thumbs and looking pretty...and failing miserably... she raised her eyebrow. "Now, whats the last thing you remember?"

"I was...in my car, driving along the road during a storm."

"Car-crash?"

"Cancer."

*author jerks his head up*

"Can we NOT steal other people's lines please? Thanks..."

"...Riiight...so why are you a ghost? Did you have any evil intentions... were you abused like ALL the ghosts before you...?" Melinda sighed, going over the same shit, day after day, week after week, poorly written script after badly done episode...

"No..." Slut-Ghost shrugged pathetically, her obvious lack of acting skills shining through.

"Did you have any... 'unfinished business'?" Taking a stab in the dark...Melinda entered towns main street.

"Ooooh, lots!" Slut-Ghost looked close to ranting.

"Like?" prompted the female protagonist.

"Well, my boyfriend, Casper, when he finished he went right off to sleep, but what about me? What about my needs?" Slut-Ghost shrieked, groping herself and moaning gently, stifling it as best she could.

"...how'd you really die?" Melinda asked, edging away from the crazy dead lady in her car.

"That relationship was so suffocating, I couldn't breathe!" She sniffed, audibly.

"So... wait, you died of sexual tension?" Melinda looked around at her, the incredulous emotion tangible in the air.

"Anything that can kill a relationship can kill a person too!" came the indignant reply only a dead stupid bimbo whore can give.

"...step out of the car please..." Melinda pressed a button, automatically winding down the passenger's window.

"Beg pardon?" Slut-Ghost turned wide eyes to the driver, as Melinda brought her foot up off the brake, turning to aim it awkwardly at the ghost.

"OUT! OUT OUT OUT!" screaming, she lashed out at the bimbo which managed to successfully push the woman out, slamming both feet onto the gas, she sped off down the road.

*Author steps out of the car, walking directly up to the camera*

"Even now, you can still hear the woman's cries echo through the air, night and day. She preys on young men, old men, middle-aged men, even lesbians should she feel up to it...In fact, for educational purposes and so you know where you shouldn't go for a cheap, ghostly lay that has no STD's... *author hands you co-ordinates* Just so you know where to avoid...okay?" With a knowing smirk, the author loosens his top buttons, and strides down the road, disappearing into the surrounding woodlands.

"WAIT! WHAT ABOUT MY NEEDS?! COME BACK!!!"