Charades

Miss Kitty returned the next morning, stripped the saddle off Miss Patches back, and turned her out in the meadow to graze. The fencing, in desparate need of repair, spotted the field like a line of scare crows. However, Miss Patches, ignoring the fence and possibility of escape, trotted over to the white pine tree in the middle of the field, and quickly began munching a patch of tasty clover.

Miss Kitty walked to the porch, admiring the mint that was beginning to flower. Miss Kitty loved flowers, especially ones that packed a punch. Mint could be used in tea for bellyaches, soaked in ice water on a hot day, and the flowers could be dried. “A useful and beautiful plant,” Miss Kitty said, knocking on the front door.

“Come in,” Miles squeaked from the oak table. Miles, on the Internet, was busy searching for birth certificates, wedding certificates, and bank information on Lilith Ekans-Siga. He was also trying to ascertain the name of the mysterious drummer that Lilith had allegedly run away with.

“Good morning, Miles,” Miss Kitty said. “Where’s Harold?”

The rocking chair near the front window rocked back and forth.

“Oh, there you are,” Miss Kitty said. “Me oh my, you are truly invisible today.”

Harold hiccupped, and of course, his head rolled off his shoulders and into his lap.

“I’m afraid I’m not feeling very good today,” Harold said.

Miss Kitty wished that ghosts could drink tea. Why, she’d make him some mint or comfrey tea, and that would give Harold a positive boost of health. Alas, Miss Kitty didn’t have any remedies for depressed and almost headless ghosts.

“I know,” Miss Kitty said. “Let’s play a game of charades.”

Miles loved charades, and stamped his back foot in approval. Harold, however, moaned.

“Come on, Harold,” Miles said. “It would be fun.”

“What do you want to be,” Miss Kitty asked Miles the packrat.

Miles stood up on his hind feet, and tried to tap dance across the oak table. Fortunately, Rex Mayo had repaired the table, so Miles had a flat and sturdy surface to slide across.

“Michael Jackson,” Miss Kitty shouted. Miles shook his head no. “Fred Astaire,” shouted Harold, who was half materialized in his favorite rocking chair. Indeed, he looked like, well, half a man.

“You got it, Harold,” Miles said, pointing at Harold and smiling. “Your turn.”

“I want to be alive,” Harold said.

“No, no, no,” Miles said. “You have to pick a famous person and act it out.”

Miss Kitty walked across the room and put her hand on the rocking chair. “Oh, Harold,” she said. “We like you just the way you are. And really, living isn’t all what it’s cut out to be."

Miles nodded his head vigorously. “Be careful,” Harold said. “Or your head is going to fall off, just like mine.”

“The headless horseman,” Miles shouted.

Harold’s eyes materialized long enough for them to roll.

“Jack in the Box,” Miss Kitty guessed. She smiled, using her full lips to cover her front teeth.

Harold started laughing, and of course, this caused his head to roll from his lap, on to the floor, and across the room. Even though Harold lost his head (again) his body slowly but surely materialized, proving once again that next to music, laughter is the best medicine.