What do you do when a spirit that has a fondness for groping your girlie bits takes up residence in your home? Call your local Ghost Hunter, of course. After Gertie Sugarbaker gets over the fact that she had a drunken one-night stand with Sam Valentine, owner of Urban Ghost Hunters, they get down to business and try to cross the amorous entity into the light. Not an easy thing to do when the "ghost" is actually a third level demon, intent on dragging Gertie back to hell with him and making her his demon princess. To complicate matters even more, her deceased Grandmother pops in for a quick visit to tell her she’d been a demon hunter for the last fifty years of her life and now the mantle’s been passed to Gertie. Could her day get any worse?
I’m not sure what I envisioned when the icy breeze blew past me on the landing. To be quite honest, at first I thought it was coming from the open window at the end of the hallway. When my eyes adjusted to the darkness I realized the second floor window was closed tighter than a nun’s legs at a whore convention.
But I sure wasn’t expecting the brief squeeze to my right buttock, followed by a shove so forceful my feet flew upward, landing me flat on my backside, on the cold black and white checked tiled floor of the second floor hallway bathroom. The heavy wooden door slammed shut, locking me in.
“Hey,” I hollered. “Let me out of here!” I rattled the doorknob, twisting and jerking it until my wrists were sore. What the heck?
“This is so not cool,” I screeched as I pounded on the bathroom door. “Damn it, open this door right now!”
I heard a soft chuckle on the other side of the wood. That really set me off. I took a few deep breaths in a futile attempt to calm down. Turning on the light, I could see in the bathroom mirror my face turning all shades of red with a few splotches of purple thrown in for good measure. I was beyond pissed. I rammed the door with my shoulder.
“Let me out, you oversexed perverted son of a bitch!”
“Flash me a crotch shot and I might think about it,” a faint voice replied.
What? Oh no he didn’t. “You’d better let me out or—or, or else.”
“Sorry, sugar-tits, that wasn’t the answer I was looking for, although I would have accepted a shot of bare boob.”
I tightened my lips and clenched my fists. That was it. If I’d even the tiniest notion before that we could both reside in the same house, this was the clincher. Nope, no way Jose. Forget it, muchacho. Hell no. He’d better hope I never got out of this bathroom, because when I did, I was making that call. My potty-mouthed interloper would be out on his can faster than he could say “clam-burger,” which by the way happened to be one of his favorite words. Enough was enough and after two months of this crap, I’d reached my limit.
I slid down the bathroom wall, inch by inch, until I plopped onto the cold, tiled floor. Hugging my legs with my arms, I rested my head on my knees. There was nothing to do but wait it out.
Forty-five minutes later, as my eyelids drooped and my head nodded, I heard the soft click of the lock being released. I jumped to my feet so fast I became dizzy. Ignoring my momentary loss of equilibrium, I barreled out of the bathroom and into the hallway.
Stopping next to the dark mahogany side table at the top of the stairs, I drew in a deep breath, then eased it out. There was only one thing I could do in a situation like this.
My hand lowered to the phone and picked up the receiver. We’d see who’d have the last laugh now. He had no idea who he was messing with.