9e945bf3b1d705d5d70aa6e5ed9fa2ba

Walt felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck. This was really bad. Instinct was telling her to go for the eyes. She just wasn’t sure which set of eyes to go for first.

“Are you going to go for the eyes?” The whisper came from behind her.

“AAAAAHH!” Walt jumped, slamming her head on the bottom of the couch. She whirled around. Wallace stood there with an apologetic grin on his face.

“Sorry about that. But I had to see what was happening! It’s my apartment!” He inched closer to the edge of the couch to peek out into the room. The Bald Guy had taken out a pack of cigarettes and was tapping it against his hand.

“Oh no you don’t, mister. Not in my apartment.” Wallace clenched his fists. “You’re going to stick it to those guys, right?”

Walt nodded.“I’m planning my attack.”

“Well, don’t take all day,” a voice behind them said.

“AAAHHH!” Walt and Wallace both jumped this time (but Walt was the only one who hit her head. Wallace was too short).

Walt whirled around. It was the white cat from next door.“YOU!”

“What? Did you really think I’d miss the excitement? You never explained who your mystery guests were. Scam artists, am I right?”

“They’re eliminators from Television,” Walt said.

“OOOooo, do I know them?” The white cat peered out from under the couch. “Hmm. Not familiar. What program?”

“Ghost men,” Wallace said.

“Ghost Eliminators,” Walt corrected. “They hunt ghosts.”

“Oh, LOCAL. Got it,” the white cat scoffed. “I was in national ads. I don’t know those guys.” She licked a paw as she examined the Bald Guy’s shoes. “Good quality, though,” she purred. Then her eyes grew wide. “Now HIM I know! Is that Mr. WIGGLES?” Her voice went an octave higher.

Walt looked out into the room. Jerome had lowered himself down from the light fixture and was doing what looked like an interpretive dance in the middle of the floor. Neither of the men noticed.

“Jerome!” Wallace squeaked urgently. “NO!”

Jerome gave one last wiggle and then changed his color so he faded into the carpet.

“Is HE your special visitor? I didn’t know you knew any celebrities!” the white cat said. “Besides me, of course.”

“HE is not a visitor. HE is my roommate,” Wallace said.

“SHH!” Walt hissed. “They’re doing something.” She poked her head out from under the couch and swiveled around to get a better view.

Mr. Slick Hair had finished off Mrs. Third Floor’s unlicked cupcakes and was brushing his hands off on his pants. Then he tossed the remote to the Bald Guy, who turned on the Television. He turned the volume down low, though, so you could hardly hear it.

“You got the camera ready?” Mr. Slick Hair said.

“All set.” The Bald Guy turned the camera on. It was pointed at the corner of the room where the aquarium was set up.

“What are they filming?” the white cat asked. “If they need a model…”

“SHH!” Walt hissed. Mr. Slick Hair had moved into the shot.

“The spirits are gathering here, you can feel it,” he said in a spooky voice. “Drawn for some inexplicable reason to this ordinary and shabby apartment.”

“Oohh, she’s not going to like that,” Wallace whispered.

“If you listen, you can almost hear them calling. Their voices are coming from so far away, on the other side of the veil. Listen!” He tilted his head like he was listening. In the background, voices could be heard murmuring.

“That’s the TV!” Wallace said, outraged. “Those voices are from the TV!”

Mr. Slick Hair shook his head.“The spirits are not strong enough to communicate with us yet. But their strength is growing.” He jumped in surprise. “Look! In the corner! I can almost see an apparition starting to form.” He pointed off toward the aquarium and then moved out of camera range.

“There’s nothing there,” Walt said slowly. “There aren’t even any fish. What is he doing?”

“Thank goodness Jerome is playing nice,” Wallace said. The last thing this show needed was a surprise appearance by Mr. Wiggles.

“They can’t show a ghost if there’s nothing there, right?” Wallace looked at the white cat, who shrugged.

“Beats me,” the white cat said. “The sets I worked on were much more professional.”

“HEY!” Wallace stood up indignantly. “Is he SMOKING?”

The Bald Guy had lit a cigarette, which he handed to Mr. Slick Hair.

“He’s going to RUIN the upholstery. My couch will never be the same!” Wallace’s whiskers were trembling. “MY APARTMENT ALWAYS SMELLS LEMONY FRESH!”

“Shh.” Walt held out a paw to keep Wallace from rushing into the room.

Mr. Slick Hair took the cigarette and held it just under the camera lens. Wisps of smoke drifted in front of it.“There, see? You can almost see the spirit attempting to materialize,” Mr. Slick Hair said. “Those wisps of ectoplasm are signs that the spirit is present and wants to communicate.”

“But…” Wallace frowned. “That’s smoke.”

“Trick photography,” the white cat said. “Combined with those voices from the TV? It’ll look great on film.”

“Which they’re going to show Mrs. Third Floor and Mrs. Food,” Walt growled.