Dirty Ghosts – part II

‘Look it’s the ugly people. This is the second time this week that I run into the ugly people,’ I say to my friend Macy who’s on the other end of my face time connection.
‘Oh no,’ she says, ‘Now, who’s the ugly people?’
‘My old colleague’s. And not the nice ones, but the ugly ones.’
‘No, not the ugly ones.’ She’s suddenly with me.
‘Look that was my boss.’ I turn the camera of my laptop and point it in his direction in the cafe that I’m sitting in.
‘He is ugly.’
‘Yes, but that’s beside the point.’
‘Is he the spitter?’
‘And the curser?’
‘Oh yesss.’
‘And therefore: the Psycho.’
‘Hell indeed.’
‘And he sacked you.’
‘By spitting and cursing all over me.’
‘What is he doing amongst the normal people?’
‘He should not be allowed.’
‘Tess, you should just ignore him. Pretend he doesn’t exist.’
‘But he spits like a lama.’
‘Would you like to order another coffee, Miss?’ the heavy glassed waiter asks me. But I suddenly lost my appetite. ‘Maybe later, thank you.’
‘Okay, but whatever you do, do not make eye contact,’ Macy urges me.
‘Okay, I will participate in your ignoring method and keep you informed on my progress. I must leave now. Talk soon.’

I sip on my latte machiatto and decide on a happy moment. I will not let bottom dweller ruin my creative word rush that will give birth to brilliancy and state the importance of the word as an action and not just a combination of letters. On my screen the letters blink ‘open’. Does that mean everything is still open? Anything can happen? I take another sip. I think I’m not ready for my own importance yet, I rather feel like a stray puppy looking for his owner. So I start spouting words, I love spouting words, like the Trevi fountain of Rome the words spread like magic water drops hoping to land on an unexpected surface where they melt with the pace of humans stepping on their powers without even knowing it. As if the power of words will rush through your veins from your feet to your crown. And when they reach your crown they will sparkle your own brilliancy, right from your head. Quite satisfied with my own words I put down my empty glass. This really was a happy moment. So I look up and there is number two.

I post Macy. Progress update: ignoring impossible. And immediately she’s back on my screen. Again I turn my computer to the ugly people. ‘Look! Look! I scream over my qwerty. Another ugly person. What is in the air today?
‘Is that the frumpess?’
‘Yes, the one who pretended to be my friend, knew I was going to get sacked, but never said a word about it. So I got cursed and spit all over with her permission.’
‘This is not your lucky day. Maybe Levine was right, maybe you do have Dirty Ghosts?’
‘Dirty Ghosts? I have ugly people.’
‘Or Dirty Ugly Ghosts?’
‘Wait another call.’
‘Hello, it’s me. Can you hear me? Hello,’ on the other connection.
‘Justin Bieber?’ I ask.
‘No, it’s me, calling from the outside.’
‘Levine? Asks Macy as if a void is echoing her voice.
‘I’m disappointed,’ I say.
‘Thank you,’ says Levine.
‘Well, you have to understand that Justing Bieber is my lyrical hero,’ I say.
‘Wow. You have my attention.’
‘That guy used the word fondue in one of his songs. I can’t even use the fondue in one of my stories and they have a lot of words,’ I defend myself.
‘I would still rather be Adele. She can set fire to the rain.’
‘True. I’m with Levine,’ says Macy.
‘Okay, you win. You got me rolling in the deep.’
‘Have you heard yet, Levine?’ asks Macy.
‘No, tell.’
‘About the Dirty Ugly Ghosts?’
‘Dirty Ugly Ghosts? It keeps getting more and more interesting. Are they still smiling?’

I turn the camera to my ugly people ones again.

‘No, he says, ‘the frumpess!’
‘That’s right, the frumpess. But that’s not all. First there was the Spitter and Curser and then walks in the frumpess. What’s next, Nivea man?’
‘So to sum things up: First your Dirty Ghosts smile at you and then they show you the ugly people. What does this mean?’
‘It means you’re nuts. I do not have Dirty Ghosts, but I am cranky now. I was expecting my brilliant word rush and instead I got a gulp of ugliness. I would rather fondue.’
‘Yeah, with chocolate and strawberry’s,’ adds Macy.
‘Definitely. Let’s fondue tonight,’ suggests Levine.
‘But it’s Thursday. Thursday is not a fondue night,’ I say.
‘Yes, and tomorrow it’s Friday. Who cares? Let’s have strawberry’s and chocolate and celebrate the Dirty Ghosts and the Ugly People.’
‘Okay, I’m in,’ I say.
‘Me too,’ says Macy.

So I stick my fork in the remains of my apple pie and dream about strawberry’s and chocolate while I pack up my laptop and check my phone. The cafe is a free place again and I can rejoice in my victorious and happy moment. The lasts bite of my pie suddenly taste so much better and I can finally hear the music in the room that is coming to me. It’s Adele singing Hello. Hello I think to myself and lay the money down with a smile.

The cold outside makes me sip up and when I move my hand up I’m too wild and it shoots up and hits my nose. While my head is up I look in the face of ugly person number three: Nivea man. Who cares, I say to myself. It’s Thursday and I’m having chocolate and strawberry fondue.


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