Tell Me Something Scary
“Rich,” she says, “tell me a spooky story. A ghost story.
Something evil.” She pulls the maroon sheets up around her neck
and turns over on her side.
I put down a book of Ally Sheedy’s poetry. “Well, I *was*
just up to the abortion one…”
I duck a shoe.
“What makes you think I know any ‘ghost’ stories?”
“Just tell.”
“All right. Fine. You want to be scared?”
She nods vigorously.
“All right.” I lean across her and reach into a drawer. I
pull out a joint.
…End of the part1. To be continued..