Chapter 11: Slam Dunk the Dead
545 Words
Chapter 11: "Slam Dunk the Dead"
It started, as many disasters did in Apartment 3B, with toast.
Jamie sat at the kitchen table, bleary-eyed, chewing on a burnt slice while Brenda the toaster beeped smugly.
> BEEP!
“Yeah, yeah, artisanal ash. Thanks, Brenda.”
Across the room, Ghostie floated upside down over the couch, wearing a backwards basketball cap and spinning a spectral ball on one finger.
> “Jamie. Jamie. JAMIE.”
“Ghostie, unless this is about you finally paying rent with something other than haunted coupons, I’m not—”
> “We’ve been challenged.”
Jamie blinked. “To what? A duel? A staring contest? Another emotionally manipulative escape room?”
> “Worse. A basketball game.”
Jamie stared.
Ghostie grinned. > “Against the rival ghost team from the East Wing.”
“We don’t even have a basketball court.”
> “The abandoned parking lot is regulation-adjacent!”
“Why would ghosts play basketball?!”
> “Why wouldn’t they?! The ball floats. We float. It’s destiny.”
Three Hours Later
Jamie stood in the cracked and haunted lot behind the apartment, wearing gym shorts, regret, and a T-shirt that said “BOO CREW.”
Ghostie hovered beside him in a jersey labeled “#00 – DEADLY DRIBBLER.”
Brenda beeped from the sidelines with a tiny foam finger on her toaster arm.
The East Wing ghosts materialized from the fog, glowing faint blue and sporting uniforms that said “PHANTOM PHALANX.” Their captain, a smug translucent guy named Lenny, floated forward.
> “You must be Jamie. Heard you're the... ‘living liability.’”
Jamie squinted. “And you must be the guy with the punchable aura.”
Lenny grinned. “Let’s play ball.”
The Rules Were... Loose
Ghost basketball, as it turned out, didn’t follow normal rules.
Fouls included “moaning too dramatically” and “over-possessing the ball.”
Spectators were allowed to boo in Latin.
The court was occasionally interrupted by rifts in space-time or teleporting vending machines.
Jamie tried to keep up, but it was like playing basketball inside a lava lamp.
Ghostie, meanwhile, was thriving.
> “THIS IS MY ELEMENT!” he screamed, dunking through an abandoned shopping cart and exploding into glitter.
Jamie panted, arms on his knees. “I can’t… I can’t even touch the ball…”
Brenda beeped and rolled over, ejecting an energy bar into Jamie’s hand. It was labeled:
“GHOST GAINZ: For When You’re Dying, But Want To Win.”
Jamie ate it. Immediately, his eyes glowed faint green.
> “I think I just saw my own funeral in reverse.”
“Great,” Ghostie said. “Now you’re warmed up.”
Half-Time: 42 – 21 (Them)
Ghostie rallied the team—which was mostly himself, Jamie, and a broom possessed by Brenda.
> “We’ve got spirit, yes we do! If we lose, they get the living room for movie night!”
Jamie gasped. “No. No way. I am not giving up my couch to Team Corpse Kardashian.”
> “Then we play dirty.”
“You mean… foul?”
> “No, I mean actual dirt. The playing field’s haunted, Jamie. Time to use it.”
- Writer
