Flash Fiction #58 – A Touch of Haunted

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.

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