Bones Jones
Copyright 2006 The Bard of New Mexico
As the ghost hunter simply known as Spooky stashed her EMF meter, digital tape recorder, two IR video cameras, and their tripods in the plain white van, she talked to the reporter off record. “It’s never a good idea to have media around when doing an investigation. It demeans the name of paranormal investigation, invades the homeowner or business owner’s privacy, and then there’s always a chance some jerk will hear about the investigation and try to sabotage it! But it’s not up to me ‘cause the homeowner called you.”
The reporter’s voice took on an irritable growl. “Look, I signed your agreement, so what’s your problem?”
“You nearly took out our cameras, you idiot! If there’s a slight smell, you don’t scream like a girl and take off running! And you sure as hell don’t bring in a medium! Not on my team!”
“Hey, she found out that this place used to be school property! She found out that the basement was once the football team’s locker room. And she found out that the ghost was Bones Jones, the star running back.”
Spooky smiled and laughed wickedly. “And you found out why investigators like to wear black jeans.”
The reporter scowled and looked at his soiled jeans. “Let’s just get this over with.” He turned on his tape recorder. “Okay, Miss Spooky, you’re about ready to get rid of the ghost. Do you normally do that?”
“No, Mike. My main job is to use scientific means to determine whether or not there is a presence at the location. It’s pretty safe to say that there is here, and unfortunately, it’s really scaring the homeowner and her small son. It’s something that I feel I can handle, though, so in this case, I will attempt to release it.”
“Can we backtrack just a bit? How does this ghost manifest itself?”
“The homeowner and her son reported sightings of a tall, skinny black form. There would be disembodied voices downstairs at night and clanging like locks against metallic lockers. There would be a white moist mist like steam from showers, even though there is nothing down there that would emit steam like that since the family uses the room as a television/sitting room. The most unusual feature of this haunting would have to be the sudden smell this black form emits. It’s a noxious, gag-producing mix of sweat and unbelievably stinky feet. There is nothing to suggest that this is a demonic haunting because all the ghost has done was play a few tricks here and there, and the smell isn’t sulfur, which might be associated with a demonic haunting. But the homeowner and her son can’t be calmed.”
Mike magically produced a computer printout of the history of the house. Spooky rolled her eyes because she knew the medium was just for theatrics. “It says here he was called Bones Jones because he was so skinny that he was nearly a skeleton. His teammates also called him ‘Stinky’ Jones because he had unusually bad body odor, especially in the foot region.”
Spooky shrugged.
“How do you propose to get rid of the ghost, Miss Spooky?”
“Watch and see.”
Spooky dug around in her van for a while and when she emerged, Mike saw she had on a mask, yellow household gloves, and a can of something or other in each hand. Mike followed her back to the basement.
“Mr. Jones,” Spooky called out from under her mask. The black form materialized and hovered as if challenging Spooky. “This is your last chance. Go into the light.”
Bones stayed.
“Okay, you asked for it.” Spooky sprayed the can in her left hand first. She started a few inches above the figure’s head and went all the way down to below his feet. The form started thrashing and breaking up. Then, she repeated the process with the can in her right hand.
Mike’s eyes widened as he saw the form disappear completely. “What was that?!”
Spooky grinned. She proudly displayed the cans and said, “Lysol and air freshener.”