Home Sweet Home

moon landing

"Yea. What 'appened to Sethel Sue's hand."

I stared at Russell.

"What?"

He stared at me, stupidly.

"Okay, I admit. I might be a dittle lunk. A riddle skunk. A ...."

Russell's head started swaying back and forth.

"Face it. I'm fucking hammered."

Russell suddenly fell forward, but his claws hung tight to the branch.

A second later he was hanging upside down, his wings spread wide and hanging limply by his side.

I knelt on the floor and looked at him.

His eyes were closed.

"Is he dead?" Calvin wondered.

Russell started snoring.

Crows can snore?

I shook my head, as I stood up again.

"Just shit-faced."

Harold and Calvin stared at me.

I took a deep breath.

Ghosts!!!

"He is drunk."

Harold snickered.

"Why didn't you just say that?"

"I thought I did."

Calvin was cleaning his glasses, again.

"So. If someone gets shit on their face, they are drunk."

"WHAT?"

"Well you said ..."

I put up my hand. I was feeling a little shit-faced / drunk, myself and I did not need another idiotic conversation with Calvin.

But I did need an answer to my earlier question.

"So, what happened to Ethel Sueann?"

The two ghosts stared at each other, blankly.

Harold looked back at me.

"How would we know? We were both killed that day."

"You were killed," Calvin reminded him.

"I was murdered."

"I .. did ... not .... murder ..... you."

"Yes you did."

"Did not."