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                             Mice and Men
The abode unquestionably was haunted by someone
who was still living.

Events were well-documented in the Fall of the year 2024. Inanimate objects, many of them extravagantly expensive, reportedly levitated, and shattered themselves against the walls, as if hurled by a furious demon. The media all carried the story, but it was dismissed by most as a hoax.

Nevertheless, it was real, and “it” was terrorizing the new occupant. Until this began, his lifelong privileged status had kept him virtually impervious to fear or intimidation, and confident no harm could come his way. Who, or what, despised him with such fury? And why? For the first time in his life, he felt panic. 

No expense was spared in desperate efforts to identify and exorcize the unknown force whose hatred engulfed his body. The most modern recording devices were unsuccessful in capturing the horrific voice of the “ghost” that tormented him unceasingly. Most harrowing were imprecations threatening excruciating punishment, forever denying the gift of death. 

The new residence he had considered his haven, now was his prison. Somehow, his phones were useless, and he was unable to leave home!  Something had rendered him powerless to move within two feet of the door or windows!!

Meanwhile, the following bedside confab was taking place elsewhere. “Your first assignment will be to use your brain, which, I remind you, originated from my gene pool. It’s payback time for the pretender bearing my name, who, as soon as I checked in here, betrayed me and took possession of my home. (By the way, he’s never liked you, and always calls you a sissy.) Now this is important. Visit my pal, Michael, in Leavenworth. He’ll get you started on how to oversee this thing. Tell him, if he ever gets out, he has a lifetime job with you. You don’t have to follow through with it, but tell him anyway. And don’t breathe a word of any of this to your mother. I’ve never trusted her.”

Convinced that he had bonded with his youngest legitimate son, he confided further, “No man can live forever, not even me. But, just between us two, I made another deal with The Devil. So, that backstabbing squatter has been taken care of, awaiting your finishing touches. He's all yours. You might want to advise him you're no "sissy." I’ve done my part now, and with you as my representative, and your harmless appearance, it's a cinch. My reportedly quick-thinking boy, your dad's leading place in the amazing achievements of mankind is a no-brainer, and your future begins now!”

“To tell the truth, you’ve always been my favorite kid, so I’m counting on you, and your inherited intelligence, Barron, to carry out my unfinished business. Satan understands you’re gonna be his boss on this deal. Here are my final instructions. Before I’m gone, and starting now, begin multitasking. Listen carefully: Follow through with eliminating that cheap imitation of me, and see Cohen, but first, tell The Devil to rev up the haunting; Forget that stupid wall, and, most important, start building a monument that will eternally remind the world of the greatest man in human history.” Notwithstanding his hearing impairment, he was certain he heard his youngest son say ‘Who, Dad?’ 

"Lies! And I believed them!" The suddenly red-faced old man was about to explode when, with exquisite timing, this potentially memorable father-to-son final tete-a-tete was interrupted.  Rushing into the crowded ward, a white-smocked, female attendant entered with an unceremonious, “Okay, sit up, Mister T! We’re late taking your daily sedative. Now calm down! And no backtalk this time!!”