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The Shopping Ghost

I always thought ghosts appeared at night, but my ghost came at 11am on a Saturday.

I was minding my own business at Wegmans, doing the weekly shopping and enjoying myself, looking at all the bright and shiny items for sale. At the frozen food aisle, a man asked me where the heart-healthy waffles were. He was fairly nondescript and looked like your average single male shopper looking to buy a meal. He had no cart, but I paid no attention to him after I opened the freezer door, pointed out the item in question, and moved on.

About an hour later I pulled into my garage with a week’s worth of groceries in my hatchback. As I got out of the car, I looked in the rear-view mirror and thought I saw someone behind me. I looked again and there was nothing there. I unloaded the car and went about my Saturday chores.

A few weeks later, while cleaning the bathroom, I saw the Waffle Man sitting on the side of my bathtub. I screamed and he said hello. I tried the bathroom door to escape and of course it wouldn’t open. He assured me that he wouldn’t hurt me but was quite dead and had followed me home with my groceries! Apparently, he had had a heart attack while shopping and, since he had no family, he was destined to haunt his place of death—until he latched onto the idea of jumping into an unsuspecting shopper’s cart.

His name was Bob. He informed me that his plan was to haunt my house and hang out with my husband and me. You might not think this was a terrible arrangement until you’d heard Bob singing in the middle of the night, popping into the bathroom when you least expected it, and criticizing your cooking. I see why he never married.

We decided he had to leave and consulted a medium, who told us he had to go back to Wegmans; from there he could go into the light when he wished. However, once he was returned, I could not go back there again. So the next Halloween night, after the trick-or-treaters were done, I burned sage and called Bob’s name, holding open a recyclable grocery sack. Bob materialized and dissolved into the bag. I quickly tied it closed and sped to Wegmans . Thank goodness it was the 24-hour store!

Once there, I dashed to the freezer aisle, opened the waffle door, and opened my bag, shaking Bob out—I hoped. I raced from the store and have not seen Bob since.

The scariest part of this story is having to find a new grocery store. I worry about who haunts Tops…

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