Very loosely based on this.

Gretchen greeted them with a squeal at the door. “It’s so good to see you, Pam! Ron, it’s been ages! Come on in, dinner’s almost ready!”

Her husband stood up from his recliner, greeting her friend with a peck on the cheek and the other husband with a firm handshake. “Nice to see you, Ron.”

“Same here. Been a while, eh?”

“Yeah! Say, I’m watching the game. Want a beer?”

“Sure.”

Once they were comfortably ensconced with their Heinekens in front of the TV and the ladies were in the kitchen, Al looked up at Ron. “Eagles fan?”

“Last season was something else, wasn’t it?”

“Think they have a chance this year?”

Ron shrugged. “I’d like to see the Steelers win, but the Eagles are a better bet, specially now that Roethlisberger’s out.”

“He was their ace in the hole, wasn’t he?”

“Sure was. Say, this is a nice recliner. Suede?”

Al shook his head. “Some sort of microfiber, I don’t know. You know, Gretchen’s got the have the latest thing.”

“My wife’s the same way.”

“Go figure.”

“Say, Pam says you’re an accountant. That so?”

Al nodded wearily. “Certified Public.”

“Getting ready for your busy season?”

“I suppose. It’s always busy at quarter’s end, and come February. How about you?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a ghost,” Ron stretched in his chair.

Al looked at him with interest. “Oh, a ghost, huh? Union?”

“Local 82.”

“I hear they have good pension plans.”

“We do. Good benefits across the board, knock on wood.”

Al set his beer on a coaster. “How’s it work, getting into the union? You go to school?”

“No, work for a union shop thirty days, and you’re an apprentice. Six months you make journeyman, and within a year, you’re at scale pay with benefits.”

“Interesting. What level are you, Ron?”

“Ghostmaster, but I’ve been at it fifteen years. You thinking of going into the trade?”

Al shrugged. “Getting tired of what I’m doing.”

“Tell you what. Come on down to the shop Monday, I’ll fix you up with the steward.”

“You’d do that?”

“Sure. You’ve got sunken cheeks, hollow eyes, pale skin. I bet you’d do well.”

“Hey, you’re a real pal, Ron. You do this for me, I’ll do your taxes this year. Deal?”

“Deal. Thanks, Al.”

“Thank you.” They clinked their beers together and finished watching the game.

Copyright 2005 Amy Frushour Kelly. All rights reserved.
Reproduction by any means prohibited without prior written consent.