A long time ago, I saw a picture in this occult book of a psychic performing a séance with a group of people. Most everything was séance-standard: Everyone was holding hands around a table, had their eyes clamped shut, and the psychic was sitting at the head, chanting over a set of candles. Like I said, couldn’t have been anymore stereotypical -
- except that the psychic’s head was covered in ectoplasm.
Yes, my friends, you read that right. Ectoplasm. Ghost guts. Spirit jizz. It was all over the psychic’s hair and running down the side of her cheeks. She looked like she’d gotten lost after shooting a L’Oreal commercial.
Since then, I’ve wondered what that ectoplasm must have tasted like. I mean, I know some of it probably dribbled into the psychic’s mouth. Did she throw up all over the guests? Did she scrape it off with crackers and stuff it into doggie bags for everybody? The stuff looked just like vanilla custard. I don’t think it’s a leap to imagine it tasting similarly.
Wraith custard. That’s all I’ve got to say.
No comments:
Post a Comment