“I'm a winner. I have a seat at the table.”
It began as simple as that for John. No mysterious noises or floating objects. Just a quick whisper in his ear as he sat reading a book in his living room. Of course, the mysterious noises soon followed as well as things being moved around haphazardly.
For me to spend another word describing events that indicate a ghost had taken up residence in John's house seems the epitome of wasted space. Movies and television programs dealing with hauntings seem be all the craze right now, so I won't squander any more of your time setting up the story with unnecessarily long descriptions of the creepy proceedings. I will squander it telling you how I won't waste it.
The creepiness went on and on and began to irritate John to no small degree. He's a laid back guy but whatever spirit moved in had very little respect for the rules of the living. And that little expression it kept repeating, “I'm a winner. I have a seat at the table,” would be enough to drive anyone crazy. Fearing that he'd never be able to get a good night's sleep again, John reached out to a group that does paranormal investigations. He asked for their help and in return they asked that he agree to let them use his story, and whatever footage they captured on the various cameras and microphones on their hit television show.
The days leading up to their visit his spirit was quite active, whispering his catch phrase and knocking things over. John was actually a little excited to have these events filmed and broadcast across the country. He could be the one that proved the existence of ghosts.
When the big day arrived though, his ghost was nowhere to be seen. Or heard. Or captured in any way, including the EVP (Electronic Voice Phenomena) recorders and thermal cameras. The investigators did their best not to make him come off like a loon but after they picked up and left he sat in his quiet living room and felt like an ass.
Had it all been in his head after all?
“I'm a winner. I have a seat at the table.”
Nope.
His friend was back and John didn't feel any of the usual fear that came along with hearing its voice. He was pissed.
“So now you talk?” John yelled to nobody. “Now you want to say that stupid saying? Where were you a few hours ago?”
His eye twitched and a little spit shot out as he raged on and on.
Then he paused to see what if any reaction he would get.
“I'm sorry. I had to step out.”
That answer did not satisfy John. He went off.
Weeks later, when the episode aired, there was further humiliation for him. After they were done showing the world that his house was the last place to look for a ghost, the next segment had undeniable proof of supernatural activity. It seemed that there was a man complaining of some presence following him wherever he went so the show's producers decided to take him up north and have him walk through a snowy field. Sure enough a second set of tracks followed him as he made his way across. This brought to John's mind a certain story of two sets of footprints walking in the sand until there was some sort of trouble at which point one of the set of footprints disappeared.
He explained the analogy to his houseguest.
“Not likely. Not unless Jesus has cloven feet.”
“Yeah.” John laughed. “Good one.”
“Listen ... sorry again about ducking out when you needed me to be here. Had I known, I would have hung around. You know, had ghost stuff to do.”
“At least you stopped with that “Seat at the table” crap.” John thought it over a second. “By the way, what does that even mean?”
“Nothing. I just thought it sounded cool.”
John laughed and picked up the remote. “Fair enough.”