I worked my way through UC Santa Cruz working at the Round Table pizza on Mission Street. It’s no longer there – they tore the place down and replaced it with a taqueria a number of years after I graduated. On the weekends I stayed late to count the registers and there were frequently unexplained noises from the empty restaurant. Some nights I counted the tills with a kitchen knife right next to me – a lot of good it would have done! One of the managers said the place was indeed haunted, but other than noises which could have been any number of things and likely were, I didn’t see anything. Most of our delivery drivers were Brazilian, which is where I picked João from. And there was a guy – very much living at the time – who regularly ordered pineapple and anchovies – I know that sounds like a made up pizza, but I assure you, I had to make and sell that to this guy quite a few times. I’m not saying that young Jordy didn’t wish he was dead when I had to deal with that monstrosity of a pizza, but, as I said, he was – at the time – very much alive. Or was he? 

João parked in the “Delivery Drivers Only” spot behind Murphy’s Pizza and Wings and went in the employee entrance.

“Hey, João,” Mike, the manager greeted him. “I’ve got one more delivery for you.”

“No,” João replied, “I’m off at nine – it’s already nine fifteen!”

“I know, I know – I was going to have Kenny do it, but it’s your favorite place,” Mike grinned.

João abruptly stopped and stared at Mike. “515 McGovern?”

Mike’s grin widened and he nodded, “515 McGovern.”

“Anchovies and pineapple?”

“The only thing they ever order,” Mike confirmed. “Came in online, paid for and tipped.”

João stood stock still for a moment and then said simply, “When?”

Mike was already in motion, pulling a pizza off the oven’s conveyer belt with a wooden peel and transferring it to the cutting board in a smooth, practiced motion. “Right here,” he said picking up the long two-handled pizza cutter blade. Before he finished the cuts João had a box ready and Mike slid the pizza into the waiting corrugated cardboard, placed a little plastic pizza table into the middle, closed the box and slid it into the insulated bag.

“Good luck,” Mike said. “I know you’re after your time. Text me when you’re done, I’ll punch you out.”

“Thanks, Mike,” João said.

At a stoplight he verified the printed order, but everything was exactly the same – the “Delivery Notes” said, “Please ring doorbell and leave pizza on porch.” He drove past the streetlights at the edge of town and turned down McGovern Avenue a mile further. At the end of the road stood a dilapidated house. No lights shone within – João wondered if it even still had power. He’d been here during the day after the first few deliveries out of pure curiosity. In the daylight the peeling paint, cracked windows, and overgrown yard made the place look decrepit and sad. At night, lit only by the wan moonlight, the house looked imposing and, frankly, terrifying. In his mind, this is what Casa das Sete Mortes looked like that his avó used to tell him scary stories about – the “House of Seven Deaths” outside of São Paulo.

He stopped in the dirt driveway with his headlights angled towards the front door so he wouldn’t twist his ankle trying to walk up the broken path to the porch. He closed the door and shivered even though the night wasn’t particularly cold. He hurried up the porch and carefully set the pizza down right in front of the door, rang the doorbell and quickly raced back to his car.

He jumped into the driver’s seat of the idling Toyota, turned quickly and sped out of the driveway. But as soon as he reached the road he stopped the car, turned the engine off, grabbed the binoculars he kept in the car just for this reason, hopped out and ran as quietly as he could back down the driveway.

João stopped behind a tree with a direct view of the front porch – a spot he had decided on when he reconnoitered the place in the daylight. Looking through the binoculars, he could see the pizza still on the porch – he was still in time! He tried to quiet his breathing and slow his heartrate, but fear, anticipation, and the run down the driveway conspired to keep him keyed up. Just when he wondered whether he was wasting his time, he noticed movement.

The door started to open slowly.

João held his breath and stared intently.

From the widening crack of the front door, João could see a luminous glow – not like from an electrical light, but a more indistinct, diffused radiance. As the door opened wide enough, a figure moved out onto the porch. João could see the glowing figure of what looked like a middle-aged man lean down, pick up the pizza and then step back inside the house and slowly close the door.

“Oh meu Deus,” João breathed.

“I know!” A voice behind him spoke. “I keep telling him if he keeps ordering that disgusting pizza, I’m staying outside. It smells terrible!”

João turned to see a glowing woman ghost behind him. With a shriek, João sprinted into the darkness towards his car. “Right?” The ghost said after him. “Who orders that?!”

“So, you just told them you’re taking a day off?” Mary said around sips of her bottomless mimosa.

“Yep.”

“And they’re just okay with that?”

“I mean, there was some pushback,” she said, sipping her bloody mary. “But it’s been such a crazy month! And did I tell you about that mummy?”

“The one with all the dust?”

“Yes!” Allison said, jabbing the pickled bean from her drink for emphasis. “Ugh, so much dust…”

The waiter set their food down, asked if Mary was ready for another mimosa (she was), and headed off.

“Oh my god, this smells so good! I’m famished!” Mary said and both women dug into their breakfasts and were quiet for some time.

The lull in their conversation allowed Allison to overhear the conversation at the table next to them. She snuck a glance back and then snickered.

“What’s so funny?” Mary asked after a bite of her crab benedict.

Allison leaned in and said quietly, “That table behind me?”

Mary looked over Allison’s shoulder. “The one with the blonde woman and the dark-haired woman?”

Allison nodded and then said, “The blonde woman said she feels like her grandfather is watching over her.”

“Aww, that’s sweet!” Mary said.

“It is, sure, but he’s literally standing right next to her complaining about all her decisions – he just said her omelet looked burned and she should send it back like she sent her husband back.”

“Ouch!”

“I’m right, too!” the voice in her ear startled Allison and her fork clattered onto her plate.

“Oh, I see, you startle pretty easily for someone who can see ghosts!” the grandfather ghost said. Allison closed her eyes in frustration.

Mary studied here friend while she sipped her mimosa and then said seriously, “He’s here now, isn’t he?”

“Your friend’s pretty sharp!” the ghost said sarcastically. “Real Einstein there!”

Allison gave Mary a tight nod and just said, “Mmm hmm.”

“What’s wrong? Cat’s got your tongue, lady?”

“Pardon me,” Allison said to Mary. Then, turning to the ghost directly she said quietly but sternly, “Look here, gramps. You may get some afterlife kick complaining about everything your granddaughter does that you don’t like, but I’m having a day off from ghosts, so just step off.”

“The nerve!” the old man said aghast. “When I was your age,” he started but was cut off by a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see a tall, skinny man standing behind him. “Who the hell are you?”

“The name is Jameson. I’m a friend of Allison’s. I believe you heard her say she’s having a day off. I suggest you respect her wishes to be left alone.”

The old man stiffened and stuck his chin up, “Or what?”

“Or else,” Jameson said, and gestured behind him where a cloud of black smoke coalesced into an enormous hulking figure with menacing red eyes. “Carl.”

The old man’s eyes became cartoon-huge and he stammered, “Umm, hey, I was just trying to have a conversation…” he started staggering backwards. “I was, err, I was just, leaving…” and he disappeared.

“Jameson? Carl?” Allison asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Carl is the tall guy and Jameson is the big scary ghost that’s actually really nice?” Mary asked, going back to her benedict.

“Other way around – Jameson is tall and skinny, and Carl is the big scary softie.”

Carl opened his mouth and screeched.

“I meant ‘softie’ in the most respectful way,” she added.

Carl squeaked his approval.

“Seriously, guys, what are you doing here?”

“Well, right after you left I was feeling rather hurt and thought I, too, would take day off…”

“How do you take the day off, you’re a ghost?”

Carl squeaked something.

“Yeah, sorry I asked.”

“Anyway, we thought you taking a day off wasn’t a terrible thing…” Carl made a grinding noise. “Okay, Carl convinced me you taking a day off wasn’t a terrible thing. But we thought you might need, I don’t know, protection in case other ghosts weren’t so accommodating of your day off. And it looks like we got here just in time.”

Allison smiled. “Thank you guys,” she said, then looked more stern. “But I am taking a day off…”

“Oh yes, of course,” Jameson said, and turned and walked through Carl who expanded back into smoke. Allison went back to her Denver omelet.

“Recap?” Mary asked.

“Oh, sorry,” Allison said between bites. “That grampa ghost was being obnoxious and Jameson and Carl told him to buzz off.”

“So, they’re not letting you have a day off?”

“No, they’re just being protective. They disappeared.”

“You know, Allison, being your friend has some fascinating moments.”

Allison just smiled.

– – –

Allison was doing her best to enjoy her massage at the spa, but through the new age music and incense she couldn’t not hear the masseuse’s old boss telling the young man all the things he’s doing wrong.

“Is everything okay?” the masseuse asked.

“Yes…” she started. “Could you, umm, get me another towel for my head?”

“Certainly,” he said and hurried into the next room.

Allison said quickly and quietly, “Hey, guy! I’m trying to enjoy my day off! Can you please leave Antony alone for at least the duration of my massage?”

“You can see me?” the ghost said surprised.

“Yes, and hear you! I’m trying to relax here!”

Antony came back into the room and carefully placed a rolled towel under her neck. “Is that better?”

Allison saw the ghost step back and disappear. “Yes, much better!

– – –

On her way home she walked past the cemetery a block from her house. She could hear quiet voices calling out to her, imploring her to come in and visit them.

“Not today, gang,” she said. “I’m taking a day off!” and kept walking.

A moment later Jameson and Carl passed by, too. Jameson said to the voices, “You heard her! A day off!”

– – –

Allison closed the front door behind her and dropped her keys into the bowl on the table just inside. “I’m home,” she said.

Jameson and Carl appeared. “Does this mean your day off is over?” Jameson asked.

“Not quite,” Allison said. “I’m going to go take a bath,” she said. “By myself.”

“Of course,” Jameson said as she went up the stairs.

Carl made a grinding gear noise. “That wasn’t so bad. Maybe we should give Allison a day off more often.”

“I agree,” Jameson said.

From upstairs came Allison’s angry voice, “Jameson! Carl! Why is the mummy in my bathtub?!”

“You know,” Jameson said, “I think it’s time for our day off.” And they both vanished.

I split last night’s story with every intention of finishing tonight. But it’s late… So in lieu of finishing with part 2, I’ve giving you part 1½ – this is what happened once Allison left for brunch.

Jameson stared at the closed front door.

“She left. She really just left!” he said.

Behind him the black mist of Carl opened its mouth and made the grinding noise. But to Jameson, his words were clear: “She told us she was taking the day off.”

Jameson looked over his shoulder at Carl incredulously. “She’s a medium! She literally has a gift to speak to the dead. She doesn’t get to take a day off!”

Carl tilted its black misty head to the side in confusion. “Okay… but she’s left. Whether she gets to or not, she just did.”

Jameson turned on his heel and stalked past Carl. “Fine, then.”

Carl watched him go and asked, “Where are you going?”

“If she’s taking a day off,” he said as he walked, “then so am I!”

Carl turned and floated after him. “What are you taking a day off from? You’re a ghost.”

Jameson moved up the stairs and towards Allison’s bedroom.

“Jameson? Where are you going?”

Jameson didn’t respond. He stalked into Allison’s bedroom and lay down on the bed on his back, crossed his arms across his chest and closed his eyes.

Carl floated into the room after him and stared at Jameson lying on the bed. “I don’t understand,” it said.

“Ghosts are the active dead. I’m taking a day off, so I’m just going to be passively dead.”

Carl sighed heavily, the black mist of its being scattering with the movement. It started to float out of the room.

“I’m so relaxed already!” Jameson called after Carl. “Oh yes, so relaxed! So glad I’m taking the day off.” Carl kept floating down the hallway.