Ashley wondered how they found her…It may have been all of those murders, but she doubted that. Maybe they were following her ghost blog! Or her Twitter! Or her Facebook! It was about time she got recognition for that. She was even funnier after death and anyone who didn't follow her was crazy and had no sense of humor.
You're probably wondering how she died. It was a car crash. It had been raining and the roads were slippery. Nah, just kidding. It had actually been quite nice out. The sky was blue and sunny, but that's not really important, is it? No, what was important was that Ashley had been on her phone—an old iPhone. She had been bitching at her parents about an upgrade, but they never got it for her. Assholes. Then some dick side swept her car. The audacity! She had been right in the middle of a tweet! The only good thing that came out of the whole mess was that her high school held a Texting while Driving Awareness assembly. Her picture had been plastered everywhere! She was just happy she could promote the importance of tweeting, even when driving. How sometimes running a red light was necessary.
Life as a ghost was kind of cool. All of these people were suddenly paying attention to her blog because of her death! It was awesome. And she mastered the art of using her phone, even in ghostly form. You may be wondering how, seeing as phones were heat sensitive. She used a warm chicken nugget. She was so resourceful. She mostly hung out at McDonalds so her supply of chicken nuggets never ran out. And hey, free WiFi! If anybody saw a floating chicken nugget or phone, nobody questioned it.
But as a ghost, she had started to get vengeful. So she thought hey, I have some free time, might as well kill that guy who killed me, right? It was easy. She shoved a broken shard of a laptop into his heart. But then it turned out to not be enough. She was still angry. Every day, people were being injured or killed because of being on their phone while driving. The drivers who had hurt them needed to be taught a lesson! They needed to respect the people who were on their phone. So she may have killed a few…dozen. Whatevz. No biggie.
Today was one of those rare days she wasn't at McDonalds. Instead, she was at her house. Her parents were watching Jeopardy. Losers. In fact, she typed the exact thing on her phone to all three of her social media websites.
"Mom?" Ashley snapped. "Are you even listening to me? Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I don't have feelings. I've been talking to you for the past half hour. You always do this!"
"You know what's nice?" her mother spoke. Her dad hmmed in inquiry. "That Ashely's not here to talk during this. God, that was annoying."
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Ashley glared at her parents as neither of them moved. "Well I'm not going to get it."
Her father stood up to answer the door. Ashley followed out of curiosity. Two very hot guys in fugly outfits were on the other side of the door. They gave some spiel about how they had reason to believe that their house was infested with bugs and if her parents could kindly leave while they checked the place out. Her dad was a cheapskate but the pretty, feminine one reassured that it would be no charge. Her mom bitched about why they had to do this so late at night, but the tall moose-looking one sympathized and charmed her.
Once her parents left, Ashley admirably said, "That was good."
The feminine one smiled sarcastically. "Hello, bitch."
She gaped. "You can see me?"
"Of course," he said. He slung his duffel bag on the ground and pulled a shotgun out. "We've been doing some research on ya, Ashley."
"I have," Sam interrupted.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Shut up, bitch."
"You were cremated," Dean continued. "So we can't help but wonder, what's keeping ya here, blondie?" He pointed his gun threateningly. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way."
Sam leveled his gun at her too. But she wasn't paying attention. Her brows were furrowed and her tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth as she gingerly pressed a lukewarm chicken nugget against the screen of her iPhone. "Lol," she wrote. "Totes bein threatened rite now by 2 hottt guys."
Sam and Dean shared a look as she continued to poke at her phone. Sam shrugged helplessly and Dean stepped forward, snatching her phone out of her ghostly grasp and putting a bullet through it. "Torch it!" he ordered. Sam didn't hesitate. He dropped a lighter on that bitch and it sent a tingling sensation up her spine. But she was still there.
Ashley glared. "Okay, I don't care how hot you two are, ain't nobody sending me beyond the veil. I got unfinished business to attend to." So she picked up the nearest object (the remote to the TV) and flung it at them. It hit Sam straight in the forehead. Dean shot a bullet at her.
OUCH! MOTHERFUCKER. Wait. Where was she? Instead of being in her living room, all she could see was black. But then bam she was back in the living room, behind the Winchesters now. She picked her parents' fire poker off the mantle and flew backwards, hitting the wall. Jesus—
Dean grinned. "Iron, bitch." He picked the poker up and took a swing at her. "Sam," he yelled. "Torch whatever you find that you think she could still be connected with."
Sam looked conflicted, but nevertheless, started lighting shit on fire.
Ashley scowled. "I really liked that phone, you dick." She started to edge back towards her kitchen.
"Tough, bitch." Dean grinned and swung the iron at her head. She disappeared, only to reappear again. Even more pissed off. "Sam, hurry up!"
He lit every picture of her, every award, even the shitty looking arts and crafts projects that must have been done when she was younger. Nothing worked. That's when he saw it. The chicken nugget, lying innocently on the floor.
"Dean!" he yelled. "The chicken nugget!"
He turned around, giving Sam a look that clearly said bitch you crazy. "What?!" Ashley took her shot then. She threw the toaster at his crotch. "FUCK!" he screamed. "You son of a bitch!" He picked up his gun and shot her twice. He then swan dived onto the floor and grabbed the piece of chicken. Ashley appeared just in time to watch him burn it.
She screamed in pain and anger as she caught fire.
Dean lay panting on the floor. Sam walked over and offered his hand, which Dean gladly took.
"You okay, man?"
"Fuck," he grunted. "She was annoying."
Sam didn't disagree. "What are we going to tell the owners?" he questioned, eying the living room.
Dean snorted. As if they would stick around that long. "We don't." He looked at the floor mournfully and pouted.
"That was a waste of a chicken nugget. Stupid bitch."