George creeped up the stairs and quietly opened the door to the attic-just to see a small white figure ineffectually hurling tiny balls of popcorn at the ceiling. It wasn't doing to very well, and kept throwing it too low and the popcorn flying back into its face. George's eyes widened. "Are you the popcorn ghost?" He whispered, awed. The ghost stopped, panting from its exertion. "Yes, I am! Tremble in my might, puny worm with surprisingly large glasses!" It said, in surprisingly a high, squeaky voice. "Why do you keep missing the ceiling?" George asked, slightly less awed. "I don't know! Maybe because of some idiot imagining me as a tiny, squeaky ghost barely rising up to your knees! Maybe because some dolt is making me into a joke!" The ghost flung himelf down to the floor, sitting with his arms folded. The effect was slightly lessened by the fact that he went through the floor and then gently bobbed back up to attic-ground level.

George thought for a moment. "You could use a catapult?" The ghost glared at him, which is very disconcerting if the thing doing the glaring looks like a white bedsheet with holes cut in it. Oh, and also wearing a small bandanna. "No! That's not the point!" It yelped out to George. "Well, since the noise is already caused by hail and freezing rain, um, you could just not do it." The ghost stared at him. "WHAT?!"

"Just, you aren't really...... er.... needed for the noise, y'know?" George said, hesitantly.

"That would be ruining my reputation! Everyone has heard of the fearsome popcorn ghost!" George scratched his ear. "Um, no, we haven't really heard of you as such..." The Ghost brightened up a little bit.

"They whisper about me, do they? Tremble in horror of just mentioning my name, right?"

"Um..... well..... no, not... not exactly..."

"Oh! They can't even bear to talk about me? So frightened they..." The ghost looked at George's pained expression, and sighed. "They've forgotten all about me, haven't they? A half-pick ghost, can't even be bothered to remember about me?" George then said something really rather insulting, especially to his own intelligence. "Weeell, we do know about you! My older brother was just talking about you-joking about how you....." The Ghost gave George a pitying look. "That was very insulting, especially to your intelligence. Just go away." He waved his hand, and, with a glazed look, George went back downstairs, very probably his memory of the past few moments disapearing as he entered the kitchen. The Ghost sighed, with the hail pattering away at the ceiling. The Popcorn Ghost studuied the ceiling for a while."Maybe a catapault would work better, actually...." 

Too bad! Watch the movies!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT