I didn’t believe in ghosts.
I came to this mansion
because I figured it would be
the best way to get in her pants.
Scared girls make all the moves,
I figured.
She was so hot and little.
I figured she’d need to cuddle up in bed
with a strong man.
But then she pulled out the electronic device
that looked like a music box.
“I call it a tactrometer,”
she said.
“It should be able to pick up where
and when the ghosts touch you.”
Now I’m in bed alone,
talking to myself,
watching the box spin,
hoping y’all ain’t here
feeling me up.
