Ghosts of Papers Past

“Hey, Chris!  Is your book report done?” asked Miles as they walked home from school.

“Nah,” he answered.  “Haven’t even chosen a book.  Why bother?  What’s the point of passing middle school, anyway?”

“To get into high school, duh.”

“Oh, boy, work all year so that you can work for another four years.”

“But you need to pass high school to get into a good college.  My mom wants me to go to a good university so that I can be a lawyer.  What do you want to be?”

“I sure ain’t goin’ to no high school.  I don’t want to work,” said Chris.

“Ha!  What are you going to do, live on Unemployment Insurance?”

“Sure!  I mean, why not?  All those dumb people slaving away day and night when all they have to do is sit back and let the money roll in.”

“Yeah, right.  It’s barely enough money to live on.  You’ll have to get a job sometime,” Miles argued.

“Well, in that case, I’ll just find a job where everyone else is worse at it than I am!” said Chris.

“That might take some work,” muttered Miles.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

They walked in silence for a while.

“Look, it’s Old Man Riley’s house!  People say that his ghost still haunts it.”  Chris pointed at the sagging, dilapidated old house.

“Right.  Just because he died there doesn’t mean his ghost is still living there.  I wouldn’t be afraid to go in there.  There’s nothing but dirt.”

“I wouldn’t be scared neither.  I don’t believe in ghosts.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They passed under its shadow.  Chris shivered involuntarily.

“You are scared!”

“Nu-uh.”

“Yeah-huh!  I saw you shaking.”

“I was cold, you moron.”