“It’s strange. I don’t think I’ve been in your house before,” Reilly remarked.
“I don’t invite many people over,” Jacob said, “My house is haunted.”
“Haunted? Is it dangerous?”
“Just an inconvenience.”
They both entered Jacob’s house by the back door leading into the kitchen. At the kitchen island a slightly pudgy man was putting together a ham sandwich.
The man was startled but quickly recollected himself and pulled a white sheet over himself. “OOOOooooOOOOooooOOooOOOOOOO,” he moaned.
“What the—you’re not even dead?” Jacob asked.
“Uhm, no, I’m quite dead,” the ‘ghost’ uttered, “I just wasn’t expecting you home so soon.”
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