Thinking Up Horrors

What did I look like? asks Terence.

Sartre shows him the photo.

A sparkly ghost, says Terence. With  my feet.

I suppose ghosts have feet, says Sartre. Now let me get on with writing this post.

Terence looks at Sweezus.

Do ghosts have feet?

Yeah I guess they do, says Sweezus. 

He looks at Federico. He's Spanish. He'll know.

Ghosts may or may not have feet, says Federico. It depends on how their life ended.

How? asks Terence.

Think about it, says Federico. 

Terence thinks about it. 

Don't think about it, says Sweezus.

No don't, says Arthur. You'll start thinking up horrors.

Thanks, Arthur, says Sweezus.

What horrors? asks Terence.

People who died with out feet, says Arthur. For various reasons. But don't worry, it rarely happens.

Yikes! says Terence.

Sartre is only half listening.

He is writing his blog. Now where was he?

....a stroke of genius on my part.

He continues:

Our mission seemed simple, But a knotty problem had come up. A dove representing the Holy Spirit began interfering. It demanded a bear of its own. Fortunately we had a spare one. A spare one which strictly did not belong to us, but needs must. The Holy Spirit's assistance was required. It had agreed to distract the Virgin, while our parrot made the switch.

He stops typing.

He's forgotten why they'd needed the string.

Why did we need the string? asks Sartre.

For the lasso, says Terence.

Before that? asks Sartre.

To tie to Prong's leg, says Federico. It was your idea.

How's it going? asks Sweezus.

I'm a bit behind, says Sartre. And I don't quite remember how things unfolded.

Doesn't matter, says Sweezus. Just keep it funny. And keep on mentioning bikes.

Merde! says Sartre. I haven't mentioned bikes since the train.

So mention them now, says Sweezus.

In what regard? asks Sartre.

Like, yeah, when you and Arthur went off to buy the hairnet, says Sweezus.

But we walked, says Sartre.

That's where you could embellish, says Sweezus. And make it funny.

Sartre does not like to take writing advice from Sweezus, but he knows that he ought to. 

However there is still the problem of not knowing why they needed the string.

Bien sur! The parrot will know the answer.

But where is she?

Look up Sartre!

Here she comes now.