Chapter 4

The Last one, The Big Tamale

The dark shadow of a ghost hung over Mr. Cheese like hot tar on a freshly paved road. Mr. Cheese dropped to his knees from fear in the presence of this new spirit.

“You must be the ghost of Computer Administrative yet to come?” asked Mr. Cheese
The spirit stretched out his arm, his cloak hanging off of his arm several inches. From within the dark dwellings of his sleeve protruded a boney withered hand. He did not speak, only pointed with his index finger.

“Not much of a talker are ya? What’s the matter, cat got your tongue, ha,ha,ha……ha…….ha…………uh…………yeeeeaaaahhhh.” Mr. Cheese received no response from the spirit, he continued only in pointing in the same direction. “Your going to show me things to be, are you not spirit?” He was hopeful for even the smallest response from the spirit, but it stood there in the same position cold as stone, pointing. Mr. Cheese was getting pretty used to seeing ghosts, but this one made him uncomfortable to say the least. He stood up to face the ghost, knees shaking, lips trembling, scared to death as he peered into the hood of the spirit and saw nothing but darkness, even though he could feel the heat of it’s dark eyes staring down upon him burning into his soul.

The spirit began floating across the ground in the direction in which he was pointing. Mr. Cheese felt an irresistible urge to follow behind. The scenery didn’t seem to change; much like walking on a treadmill Mr. Cheese got the impression that they weren’t going anywhere. Instead of walking into the city as he had with the previous spirits, the buildings seemed to appear out of thin air all around, then the road beneath them, and just as suddenly there were people. They stopped outside a large building where several people had gathered. The spirit pointed to the group of men and Mr. Cheese obliged by moving in closer to catch a glimpse of their conversation.

“He’s dead all right” said a short stout man with a curled up nose.

“Are you sure? Did you kick him?” Asked a skinnier balding man

“What the fuck do you take me for, of course I kicked him, he was dead as a nail I tell you.” Replied the stout man

“Well is there going to be a funeral?” A quiet girl asked.

“I suppose so, but not much of it, no one liked the man.”

“What did he do with all his countless IT books?” Asked another

“Who knows, knowing him, he wouldn’t give them up even after death; he probably has a Will describing they all be buried with him, or better yet burned.”

A light hearted chuckle came from the crowd of people. Mr. Cheese knew the people; they were former students of his. The crowd continued to converse and fade away; Mr. Cheese looked back at the spirit who now was floating towards him once again, his withered finger pointing farther down the street. It wasn’t long before they came across another, smaller, group of people. Again Mr. Cheese approached them to listen in.

“Old bastard finally got what he deserved.” A business man in a suit said

“So it would appear.” Replied another

Mr. Cheese recognized these gentlemen as well. They were fellow colleagues. But who could they be talking about; surely they wouldn’t still be talking about his partner Speds death after all this time. Besides this was the ghost of things to come, not things in the past. Mr. Cheese shrugged it off and trusted that the spirit would guide him to these answers when the time was right. He stood quietly looking around the streets and busy crowds trying to find himself amongst the people but saw nothing to his likeness. This struck Mr. Cheese by surprise.
They continued to stroll, or rather float down through the town until they came upon a small dismal area known better as the slums. Mr. Cheese had never been here before but he knew the area well. He turned to face the spirit who once again was pointing with his finger to a scraggly house that was dimly lit. Mr. Cheese approached the window. With both hands held on each side of his head he pressed his forehead against the cold glass. Inside he could make out four people gathered beside an open fire and a large box.

“Well slide that damn box over here so we can get this over with.” A large man sitting upon a stool said.

“What’s the fuss, not like he’ll be needing these things anymore?” Another voice said sitting across from the first man

“True, but the sooner we get this over with the better I’ll feel. Just being in the presence of that damn box makes me feel all dirty and low inside.”

“Oh nonsense” said a women walking into the room carrying what seemed to be a pot of coffee “It’s just a box full of his belongings, what are you worried about.” The box was slid over to the large man on the stool while the rest stood by and watched him open it and begin removing the contents inside.

“Look at this, an old tattered rag of a hooded black sweatshirt…..ewww…..” The man said as he held up a large black coat before throwing it inside the fire. “No one will be needed that ugly thing anymore.” The fire erupted with a large flume of yellow and orange flame as the old coat landed atop the smoldering logs within. He reached back inside the box grabbing a handful of glass frames containing several IT certifications. The large man let them slip from his grasp and crash to the floor breaking the glass which once protected the fragile paper certifications inside.

“Ah now look what I have done…….dammit.” The man said

“Well they are of no use anymore, just a bunch of stupid pieces of paper; throw them into the fire as well.” The women replied

“Well if we get nothing else out of his death, at least he kept the fire burning for a few more hours.” They all laughed together at this comment.

Mr. Cheese could not believe how callous these people were with someone’s personal belongings. He cringed as they threw the IT certifications into the fire which once again came roaring to life as it devoured the delicate paper.

“I see spirit” said Mr. Cheese “I see that you are trying to tell me that the way this deceased man is being treated might be my own as well.” He lowered his head from the glass and turned toward the spirit. As he lifted his head the surrounding changed once again. This time he found himself in a cold dark room with not a glimmer of any light.

“Where am I spirit” Mr. Cheese cried out, but there was no response. He turned his head left to right trying to figure out where he was, what room he was in. He could here the scratching of tiny feet as rats ran across the floor boards. Two of them were scuffling off in the corner. Mr. Cheese dared not to get down off the bed as the floor seemed to fill with the sounds of more angry rats hissing and scratching all around him. Quickly he backed himself farther onto the bed before hitting a hard cold lump beneath the covers.

“What is this?” he asked himself, and in that moment a single light shine down onto the bed revealing the outlined figure of a man hidden beneath the covers.

“Who is this man?” asked Mr. Cheese

Another light, much more dim revealed the spirit standing in the corner of the room, rats scurrying beneath his robe. The spirit didn’t seem to mind this, nor did he try to move them out from beneath him, even as they began to bite and tear the flesh from his bones. It almost seemed like the spirit encouraged the little demons as if to be feeding his children. This very site sent chills down Mr. Cheese’s spine and he found himself in that same position he was the night the first spirit had visited him, scared to death. He looked again at the figure below the covers which was covered from head to toe.

“I ask you again spirit, who is this beneath the covers? Is this the man that the town seemed to hate?”
Once again the spirit raised his hand in silence, what little flesh he had was now dripping off of his bones like a hot candle burning through the night. He pointed at the mans head instructing Mr. Cheese to pull back the covers.

Mr. Cheese looked down at the figure, something deep down inside him wanted to pull back the covers, wanted to see what lay beneath, wanted to know, but there was a much larger part of him that withdrew his hand before it came in contact with the sheet which lay upon the face of the dead man.

“No, I can’t…..I CAN’T I TELL YOU” Cried Mr. Cheese

The spirit thrust forth his arm once again at the head of the dead man beneath the covers at which time a loud crack of thunder could be heard echoing from within the room as if the spirit himself had some how mastered the will of nature. Mr. Cheese reached for the covers once again, his hand shaking immensely. Closer and closer he got until he could hear the sounds of whispers all around him. These were not the whispers of pleasant people, instead they were angry whispers, spitting out obscenities and foul language like a cheap hooker. As Mr. Cheese’s hand got close to the sheet which covered the head of the dead man the whispers became louder, and louder, filling his ears to the point of screams. He withdrew his hand once again and covered his ears. The screams fell silent.

“No, I can’t…….please spirit don’t make me do it. Show me that there is someone out there that does not hate this man.” And with that the spirit withdrew his arm and opened his robe revealing a small picturesque window.

“Dude, you got a DVD player in your robe?.........That’s so fucking cool……..”

Mr. Cheese watched as a scene unfolded. It was the house of one of his students. Inside a young woman nervously paced back and forth as she awaited the return of her husband. The door swung open sending in the cold air from outside. The woman stopped in her tracks and turned to face the open door in which her husband stood.

“Is it good news, or bad?” She asked

“It’s good, the stories were true, he is dead.”

“So what about your training, who will take over as your teacher, can you get an extension now.”

“Slow down woman, I don’t know the answers to any of these questions yet, but for now we can rest easy.” And with that they both smiled and sat down at the table to enjoy their meal.

It saddened Mr. Cheese to see the only pleasure brought to anyone from the deceased man was in fact his death. The scene then changed again to that of a much darker one. It was Billy Bob Crotchrot’s house, only this time there was no smiles on the faces of the children. There was no Bubba Fat hiding behind a chair waiting for his father to come home. The family was dressed all in black and preparing for what looked like a funeral. Mr. Cheese listened in as Billy Bob broke down in tears weeping talking about his fat son. It was obvious that Bubba Fat had passed on due to his obesity. The spirit closed his robe and the room began to whirl with black smoke. They now found themselves standing beside a small church outside of any busy cities, away from all the hustle and bustle of any town. Next to the church was a small graveyard littered with old dead trees. The grass had not been cut for sometime, and the gravestones were buried beneath blankets of vines and overgrown grass. It was obvious that this was a graveyard for the forgotten, the hated, and the repulsed, for which no one ever visited.
The wind was howling throughout the graveyard as the spirit and Mr. Cheese approached a small headstone near the back of the site. They stopped several feet from the stone and the spirit once again pointed, this time directly at Mr. Cheese. His heart stopped and his knees fell weak as Mr. Cheese undoubtedly knew what the spirit wanted.

“Tell me spirit before I turn to look at this lonely gravestone, was the man lying on the bed……was it me?”

The spirit did not move, and even though the wind was blowing Mr. Cheese’s pajamas practically off his body, the spirit and his robe stood motionless. Mr. Cheese glanced over his shoulder at the headstone, squinting his eyes to see the name engraved upon it. A large crash of lighting lit the sky for miles illuminating the stone in all its glory. Neither grass, nor vines could hide what Mr. Cheese eyes now saw. It was his name engraved on the stone.

“Is this my fate? Is this my future? Please spirit say it isn’t so. I have learned my lesson; I will live the ways of the three spirits. I will embrace Christmas and all it’s glory, I will not go back to my old ways, I am a changed man, please tell me that my efforts will not go ignored, that I can still change this future.” Mr. Cheese dropped to his knees and clutched onto the robe of the spirit. “Please I beg of you, let me change…….” The spirit did not move as Mr. Cheese sobbed loudly into his robe. Again Mr. Cheese begged and pleaded with the spirit to give him another chance, and with that, the wind stopped, the howling was gone, and the robe in which he clung to, dropped into a pile of nothing at his feet. Mr. Cheese looked around to see he was back in his bedroom, the light shinning through the windows had told him it was the beginning of a new day.