Nobody in Fendersburg
had gained any common sense while Jane was away. The usual routine had gone on
without the Ghost to remedy problems a little common sense could have
prevented. Joe Conrad had run out of gas while picking up milk from the cooperative’s
four small dairy farms. He sat for half an hour, yelling for the Ghost to help
him, before he used his cell phone to call his brother to come with the gas
can. Georgie Tupper decided he could fly with just a blanket tied to his
shoulders for a cape. When he climbed up the tallest tree in the center of
town, the blanket got tangled on a branch. He hung there, kicking and
screaming, while his mother sat on a park bench a few dozen feet away, working
on her nails. Someone finally got tired of hearing her complain about the Ghost
taking so long to show up, and they called the fire department. When the fire
department presented Mrs. Tupper with a bill for rescuing her son, she told
them to charge the Ghost, since he was "shirking his responsibility."
Various assorted
other foolishness happened. People ignored stop signs and ate food from swollen
cans. When the Ghost didn't show up to stop them, they dented their cars or
rushed to the hospital to have their stomachs pumped. Jane got to her spa in
time to open the doors for business at 10am, and by 2pm she had heard about
every incident in the two days since she had gone to visit Neighborlee.
The newspaper the
next morning listed all the minor disasters on the front page and the
complaints from the people who expected the Ghost to do their thinking for
them. Same old stupidity. Jane supposed the incredulous fascination of people
who rubbernecked at traffic accidents kept her reading. When she unfolded the
newspaper, to continue reading down the double-wide column, the headline on the
bottom half of the front page stopped her cold. She stared, blinked, shook her
head, and balled up the newspaper.
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