The worst thing about summoning a dyslexic ghost is that you don’t know if his name really is EGDRUK or if you just found a dead cat in the void, rolling around on the Ouija keyboard, until you spend more than a year teaching him basic writing skills. So now I know that his name is EGDRUK, and he’s from the 16th century, which is even worse because he doesn’t get any cultural references, I wanted to discuss Frasier, but he had no idea what that was, so we spent a few weeks watching all twelve seasons, and now he thinks ITISACOMEDYMASTERPEICE, Ouija boards are always all caps, so I never know if he’s angry or shouting, but there was no internet in the 16th century, so he has no idea that it can be interpreted as rude.

EGDRUK isn’t actually my ghost, he just kind of attached himself to me; I watched that movie with this demon-hunting couple, so I know that’s what basically happens when you play around with Ouija boards and forget to say goodbye (it’s funny if you think about it, ‘oui’ means yes in French, ‘ja’ means yes in German and yet, there is only one yes-button on the thing).

So, here’s what happened: my friend, let’s call him Arthur because that’s his name, asked me to help summon his dead grandmother, who recently died after her second heart attack. She had her first one when she accidentally stole a K-Pop CD, the album was called “Free”, so that’s what she thought it was, she was caught by a store detective who scared her with a huge bush beneath his nose that looked like that:

~M~O~U~S~T~A~C~H~E~

Life’s funny with its accidents sometimes (I bet out of the maybe ten people who read this, at least one must know somebody who once almost fell off a ladder by accident, but nobody with a grandmother like that), because two weeks later, my friend whom we call Arthur, accidentally sent his grandmother a topless picture of Kim Jong-Un, which caused her second heart attack, since then she’s RIPing and Arthur wanted to apologize. Back to that night: there we sat with that lipstick-stained glass on the Ouija board (Arthur’s mother was single again) waiting for a sign, and soon after that, EGDRUK appeared. He just wrote gobbledegook, because he’s dyslexic, he actually wrote that word: GOBBLEDEGOOK, and I know now that he meant rubberboot, he told me a few weeks ago, even though they were far from being a thing in the 16th century, never mind. So, now he lives with me, he just moved in without asking, attached himself to my back. At first, it was hard to masturbate with company, but now I feel less alone when he tells me IAMPRUODOFYOUCANWEREWATCHFRAZIERNOW after I finish, and I can almost see his joyful face next to mine on the blank screen.

Goodbye.