Hanging with Spirits (A Zak Bagans Story)

Hanging with Spirits

"Dad" I said as I walked through the glass slide doors into the house my dad was renting for part of the summer.  I had our dog, Gracie, beside me. She went over to lay on the couch. 

"Dad!" I yelled a little louder as I started heading upstairs. Still no answer. 

I went to his bedroom and looked around. 

Hmmm I thought to myself I wonder where he could be?

I was about to turn around and walk out of his bedroom when I heard my dad say "what's up?"

"Oh hi!" I said turning around and smiled at him. He cocked one eyebrow and looked at me. 

"What's on your mind?" He asked 

"I'm hungry" I replied. 

My dad shook his head before he replied "you are always something"

"I am your daughter. You are supposed to feed me" 

I followed him down the stairs. 

"Oh I'm dying..so hungry...can barely move...."

"I see that" my dad said turning around, stopping me dead in my tracks. I looked up and smiled at him.   He was about 6'0 and I was only 5'0.  He had muscles bigger than his head and probably bigger than my waste. All in all, my dad could snap me in half if he wanted without having to work at it. 

"So...what are you going to feed me?" I asked smiling

"I have no idea" my dad said going to the kitchen. "I was wondering the same thing myself. What are you hungy for?"

"Food" I said sitting on the table. 

"Oh no plants tonight? Get off the table!" 

"Sorry" I said jumping off the table. "No, we had plants for lunch, remember"

"Umm...how about this stuff" my dad asked taking a box out of the freezer

"Umm...here's a thought. If you don't know what it is, don't make it." I said 

"It's chicken lasagna, Els"

"Do we have garlic bread?"

"You and your frikin bread"

"I like bread." I said 

"You like food" my dad said. 

"You know" I said getting a little defensive "you are the one who opens the fridge, freezer, and cupboards 555 times a day. And are you calling me fat?"

"I love food. And no I am not calling you fat...how the hell do I open this damn box?"

I looked at my dad as he struggled to open the box nicely until he gave up and just ripped the box open.

"Now do I keep this plastic stuff on or take it off."

Is this man serious? I thought to myself How has he been able to keep me alive for 15 years?

"Won't it explode or if I don't take the plastic off?" my dad asked. 

I should be able to eat in about 5 hours. I thought to myself before I decided to go help him.  In my dad's defense, I do normally do the cooking now and have for the past 2 years. 

"You leave that on dad. It's so it doesn't splatter all over the oven, I think. Or it's so it cooks faster. Maybe both. But it's fine if you leave it on, dad."

"It won't explode or cause any problems?" 

"Dad, you worry too much. Seriously. Anxiety, down a notch and it will be fine. I should know. How many times have I made this stuff?"

"A lot" my dad replied "I have never ate so much lasagna in my life. I think I will turn into a tomatoey noodle."

"Well you don't have to buy it" I said looking at him. "If you don't buy it I can't make it."

"Chill honey" my dad said smiling "I like it, I'm just picking on you. The stuff I don't like I don't buy. Power of dad."

"One of these days I'll show you power" I said to myself buy loud enough so he could hear.