Get Out of My House

I still remember the day those people barged into my home. They dragged all their crap with them; dishes, furniture, whining children and that damn, pesky dog. I was sitting on my front porch and they walked right past me. Didn't even see me!

"What the hell are you doing! This is my home!" I yelled and yelled until my voice was hoarse but still they came. Their clutter filling my immaculate house. I watched all day as they unloaded a truck. I couldn't believe they were taking over a residence I had lived in for ages. That night while they slept I came up with my plan. I'd make sure they'd leave.

The next morning during breakfast the woman of the family was cooking breakfast. She had the ugliest crockery I'd ever seen on my antique dining table. I walked straight over and threw every plate on the ground. "Honey! DID YOU SEE THAT?" The woman frantically shook her husband with fear. "Those plates flew right off the table", she shrieked."Babe, it's just the creaky house shifting. Rattled the table. We'll get new dishes soon. We needed them anyway." She replaced the dishes and continued. Creaky table? I couldn't believe my ears. Well, if that didn't work, I'd do something even more grandiose.

I heard those those little monsters upstairs playing with their toys. Running around scuffing my clean floors. If I could scare them enough, get my point across, I was sure they'd leave. I marched up the stairs to find them stomping, dragging toy cars along the wooden floor and jumping on the beds. Not in my house. I grabbed both of them by the scruff of their necks and dragged them all the way to the hallway, slamming the bedroom door in their smug little faces. "MOM! WE HAVE A GHOST! IT HURT US!" I could hear the little rats scurrying down the stairs. "Zoey and Zak, there are no such thing as ghosts. You're imagining things." There was just no convincing those adults they didn't belong in my house.

That night as I sat in my rocker, glasses around my nose I saw the little dog they brought with them sniffing around the study. That's when I had the best idea. "The dog. I'll do something to the dog and they'll have to leave. Their precious poochy will be the way I get my house back!"

The next day as everyone was enjoying the airy atmosphere of the study, I walked in, looked at them all and kicked that dog right in the ass. It yelped and yelped. The kids were scared of course but those damn parents! "Honey, did you rock on his tail? You must have. Scared him to bits."

I dropped my head. For 200 years all I've wanted is to live a peaceful, undead life in my home. But every decade or some a new group of people think they can just barge in and make themselves at home in MY house. Being a ghost is tough. In death I thought I'd have peace, but humans, my God. They are an annoying bunch of people. Taking things as their own. Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I want roommates. Here's to another decade of irritation.