Title:The Ghost is Apartment 3B Has Wi-Fi

Chapter 1: “Congratulations, You’re Cursed!” Jamie Cartwright was no stranger to bad luck. He once got food poisoning from a granola bar, got dumped via voicemail, and once accidentally walked into the women's restroom during a job interview—and still asked where the urinal was. But nothing in his long and tragic history of fail could prepare him for Apartment 3B. It started with a Craigslist ad. “COZY STUDIO W/ VINTAGE CHARM. PERFECT FOR SOLO TENANT. RENT NEGOTIABLE. FREE WI-FI. NO PETS, NO EXORCISMS.” Jamie, who had exactly $72.49 to his name and a dead phone charger, called the number anyway. The landlord, a guy named Phil who smelled like beef jerky and despair, didn’t even bother to give a tour. “It’s yours if you don’t ask questions and pay in cash,” he said, tossing Jamie a ring of keys and what looked suspiciously like a priest’s rosary. “Wait—what does ‘no exorcisms’ mean?” Jamie had asked. Phil had smiled like someone who’d seen too much. “You’ll see.” The first sign something was off wasn’t the flickering lights or the temperature drop—it was the Wi-Fi name. Network: BOO-b***h_5G Password: NOTDEADJUSTPETTY Jamie blinked. “…Okay.” He set up his thrift-store air mattress, unrolled his one towel, and sighed. A new beginning. A fresh start. One free from roommates who left beard clippings in the sink and tried to sell him essential oils shaped like Yoda. He barely finished brushing his teeth when the lights flickered again—then Alexa, who Jamie did not own, spoke from the corner. > “Welcome home, meat sack.” Jamie froze, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth like a limp antenna. “Who said that?!” > “The ghost. Duh.” The lights blinked to full brightness. Written on the mirror in shaving cream were the words: ‘CONGRATULATIONS, YOU’RE CURSED!’ Jamie stared at it. “…I can work with this.” Ten minutes later, he was sitting on the floor, arguing with thin air. “I’m not moving. I already paid rent. I even left the coin under the door like Phil told me.” > “That coin was chocolate. I’m offended.” “It was a gesture!” > “You’ll need better gestures. And snacks. I like Bugles.” “…You’re a ghost.” > “And yet I crave crunch. Sue me.” That was the beginning of Jamie’s unholy roommate situation. By the next morning, the ghost had changed the Wi-Fi name to “JamieSmellsLikeRegret”, and ordered three seasons of The Great British Bake Off on Jamie’s streaming account. Jamie had to admit—so far, being haunted wasn’t half bad. But then the ghost began his campaign to become t****k famous… And that, dear reader, was when all hell truly broke loose.