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I've been asked before if I believe in ghosts to which my answer is always, "I don't know, but I'm pretty sure when I'm dead there are going to be a lot more interesting places to hang out than here." It's a pretty good answer. It's middling to no. However, when the sky is crystal clear and a full moon is shining, there's a fresh sheen of frost, it's 10 at night, you're in a cemetary and you keep hearing a little girl giggling off in the distance (and all around you) that answer tends to slip a little more towards yes.

Since I sometimes sing while walking alone, and tonight I was singing the theme to gilligan's island, I like to think it was an amused chuckle instead of the cackle of those about to feast on my soul.

Also, I saw the cayote that lives in the graveyard. Sweet, I hope she lives through the winter again. There can't be that many fattened squirrels around here.



I hate the cackle of those about to feast on my soul.

Having gone to Catholic school; I fear not soul-eaters...mine has dibs already.


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