by Jon Plester

I don’t have any sort of obligation to help you at all kid. I’m just your average, ordinary ghost who happened to be a dad when he was alive. But now that I’m dead, I’m just trying to make the best of it and live out the rest of my ghost days in peace. Listen to me and listen close because I’m not going to repeat myself: while this is all true it does not give you any right to ask me for any sort of other-worldly advice.

Sure I was a workaholic, but I don’t regret one second of it. In fact, I wish I had spent even less time with my family and kids and more time at work. All that time spent barbecuing, playing catch, or even opening Christmas presents could have been time better spent on my career. There was so much more that I could have accomplished at the agency when I was alive, especially if I knew I was going to get into that hilarious and kooky bus accident and my life would be cut short.

Don’t think you can charm me with your crooked smile, can-do-attitude, or lack of a central father figure in your life. I can assure you that none of these qualities are endearing to me and if anything they make me respect you less, kid. This isn’t the start of some adventure we’re going to have together where at first I begrudgingly accept the role as a mentor but eventually you teach me more about myself than I ever thought you could. And thus, my penance is payed and a mysterious spectral force returns me to my earthly vessel to live out the rest of my days as a better father and a man. Because that definitely isn’t going to happen.

I may be stuck in purgatory, with the only way to achieve tranquility due to any unfinished business I may have on earth is through acting like a patriarchal guardian angel to wayward children with all sorts of wacky problems, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to help you. Maybe I like purgatory, doomed to endlessly walk this earth rather than ascend into the heavens.

Honestly, I’m just trying to make the best of it; I didn’t work all those years in middle management for nothing. I worked tirelessly for two things: respect, and the promise of retirement where I could sit in peace and quiet. I’ve got that peace and quiet now, with no kids or wife or boss to bother me. And I’m a martyr in the advertising business now, heck they’re putting up a plaque in honor of me. A whole plaque! Just for me!

So listen, kid, I’m not going to give you any advice. But, if I were to say anything, it would be that the little league team needs you more than how upset you are with Derrick. So you better hustle up, because the big championship game is in a half hour. 

Oh, son of a gun! That was extremely relevant advice to you! I can feel myself being transferred back into my human vessel! Damn you! Damn you and your little league team!

Jon Plester is a writer, improviser, filmmaker, and all-around bad boy from Philadelphia.