Date: Sat, 6 Feb 2010 16:36:14 -0800 (PST)
From: Claudiu I. <ghostofoldtrafford@yahoo.com>
Subject: Divine Punishment 3

Be warned, this story portrays gay relationships. SHOCKING, I know!

But wait, there's more! No sex! Are you still conscious? Good. What I mean
by that is that this is intended to be more a PG-13 story. Well, in terms
of sex, anyway. You can't expect no swearing, now can you? So, if you're
looking for some masturbation material, there are plenty other fine sources
around, but this story, I am sorry to say, is not one of them.

Keeping that in mind, if you decide to go ahead and read, feel free to
always contact me at ghostofoldtrafford@yahoo.com


DIVINE PUNISHMENT


Chapter 3


You know, I really need to stop with all this fainting shit, or someone
might mistake me for a pansy one of these days. But, seriously, what do you
do when you wake up with the ghost of your dead high-school tormentor
standing at the foot of your bed? Well, call Dr. Watkins, of course, and
book a one-way trip to the loony bin. But the natural instinct is to either
scream in sheer horror or collapse...in sheer horror. And since I'm too
manly to scream...Yeah, so, as I was saying, there I was, sprawled on the
floor, again, with a voice telling me to wake up...again.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, you little pussy, wake up. I ain't done with you
yet." Terry said. I just groaned, still hoping that I was sane enough to
control my own mind and, you know...make him go away in a cloud of smoke or
something. But he had other plans. Like spilling the pitcher of water I had
on my nightstand over my head. That was when I sat up and started getting
suspicious. Talking to dead people is one thing. Kinda like, err...normal
insanity. Basic stuff, you know? When said dead people start interacting
with your environment, you have to start worrying. Because, you're either
so fucking insane that you have some kind of split personality, throwing
water over yourself, while pretending to be a ghost or the whole thing's
real. And that's even worse, because...come on, dude...FUCKING GHOSTS!
"Good, you're up. Now tell me why I'm dead."

"This isn't happening. You're not real. I'm just crazy, that's all. Yep." I
said, ignoring him and moving to my closet to get dressed. If he weren't
just a figment of my deranged imagination, I'd be embarrassed by having
Terry see me naked, because, as big an asshole as he was, he was still
friggin hot as hell.

"Okay, today's another warm day. Shorts and t-shirt will do. Oh, I love
this shirt..." The whole closet erupted and clothes started spilling out
and flying around the room, my beloved shirt getting ripped to pieces in
the process. I sighed and turned to Terry. "What's next? Voices from the
TV?" My TV exploded next, as Terry started screaming. Well ,at least it
wasn't an expensive plasma or something.

"STOP THAT! Right now!" I yelled and everything was still again. Except my
TV was still broken. Goddamnit! "You, cut this Poltergeist shit out at
once." Terry was unmoving and perfectly quiet. My eyebrow shot up. Well,
both of `em. I can't do the whole Spock "one eyebrow up" thing. It's my one
flaw. "Okay, good. Now...umm, sit down or something." He did so. This was
going well.

"Okay, so...first of all, I need to make sure I'm not crazy." I said. Terry
made to open his mouth, but I silenced him with a look. Totally cool, that,
having him obey me like that. Which, of course, only served to further
convince me that he was a product of my rotten mind. God, to be so insecure
in one's own mental capacities.

I opened the door and shouted for Fern. She was up already, of course,
since it was almost 11 o'clock. Damn, I slept a lot! Anyway, the little one
scurried into my room like a weasel and let out a low whistle when she saw
the state of things.  "Damn, Hudson. What the hell did you do?"

"So, clothes are really all over my room, right? I'm not seeing things."

"Umm...yeah." She looked at me in her "you're a fucking idiot" manner. "Did
a tornado come through here? And, holy crap! What did you do to your TV?
Mom's gonna have a cow when she gets home!"

"She already has one, dear sister. She named her Fern. Now, please
leave. Thank you for your assistance." I pushed her out of my room and
slammed the door shut in her face, cutting off the numerous biting replies
she threw back at me.

I ran my hands through my hair and shut my eyes tight, trying to make sense
of things. When I opened them again, I saw Terry. Yep, I had a dead
teenager sitting on my bed, twiddling his thumbs.

"Terry, right now, I'm not entirely sure I'm not supposed to be in the care
of men in white coats, but, assuming I'm sane and you're really here, as a
ghost and all...what the hell's going on?"

"WHY DON'T YOU TELL ME, YOU LITTLE..." he started shouting.

"Shut it, I said." He fell silent. "Well, that was easy. What gives?"

"I don't know what you mean." He said, looking away.

"Don't play that shit with me. What's with going Poltergeist one minute,
completely silent the next?"

His jaw tightened for a minute and he inhaled loudly. Well, I guess he
didn't, since he was dead and all, so his respiratory functions were
non-existent, but, you know...he did the whole frustrated breathing thing
that living people do so well. He seemed to be debating whether or not to
tell me anything. "Spill. Everything." I said.

"Fine. I'm supposed to do whatever you say."

"Come again?"

"It's not my idea, believe me. But that's what they said. I'm forced
to...obey you! God, this is so humiliating."

"Wait. What? Who? Huh? Go back. Who's they? Just...start at the beginning."

"Okay. So, I was at the Pearly Gates..." I snorted in derision. "You want
me to tell you the story or not?" I waved my hand, telling him to go ahead,
so he continued. "Or Limbo, or whatever. Lots of light and shit. I thought
I was just drunk as hell and hallucinating. Maybe on an acid trip or
something."

"Must've been one hell of a party."

"It was. But as I was saying, there I was, looking around, being all
trippy, and this guy walks up to me and tells me I need to go back."

"What, the `it's not your time' thing?"

"Oh, no, he told me that I'm dead. Toast. Worm fodder. Never to be seen
alive again. But he said that I need to go back and find out what
happened. And he said you'd know."

"Me?" I asked in a squeaky voice. "What makes you think I know anything
about it? I have no idea what happened. I certainly didn't kill you with my
mind, that's for sure."

"What was that?"

"Nothing. You just...drowned. Had an accident, ran off the road and into
the lake and slept with the fishes. You were most likely drunk out of your
mind."

"No."

"What do you mean no?"

"That's not what happened. I never drove anywhere, because I was too
drunk."

"Well, if you were so drunk, what makes you think you'd remember anything?"

"Okay, you have a point. But if it was that easy, why the hell would they,
whoever they are, send me back? Just so you could tell me that I had a
drunken accident? Look, Pryce, I know I was an asshole while I was alive,
but...please, I'm a fucking ghost. They said you'd help me. I'm begging
you, man. Tell me what you know."

I heaved a sigh and stared into Terry's grey eyes. "Okay. When I went to
sleep on Friday, I...I sort of imagined or, fantasized, I guess...umm,
about you. I...I saw you drowning." I looked away from Terry, unable to
meet his eyes anymore.

"What? You fantasized about me dying?"

"I guess so. I know that makes me sound like a freak, but...I was in a
mental hospital, after all."

"So I heard." Terry got up from the bed and started pacing. "Wait. What
time did you go to bed?"

"I don't know, early. I didn't fall asleep right away, but I'd say it was
before 9 PM."

"Damn, you're a loser."

"Thanks."

"Yeah. No, what I mean, by 9 PM, my party had barely started. I don't think
I'd had more than a beer by then. I certainly didn't leave my party that
early, if, indeed, I even got behind the wheel of my car, which I really
don't remember doing."

"So...I didn't kill you?"

"Yeah, you can stop worrying about that."  "Damn. I was hoping I had some
kind of superpower, killing people from afar. I even had my X-Men name
picked up and everything."

"Yeah, what is it?"

"I ain't telling you. You're an ass." We both fell silent for a
while. "Terry, why were you an ass?"

"I plead the Fifth."

"Spill. It's an order."

"This whole thing is going to your head."

"Give me a break. How often does one get to have a pet ghost?"

"I'm not your damn pet."

"Terry...Sit!"

"Oh, for the love of..." he sat.

"Roll over." He rolled around the floor.

"Play dead." I said, smirking.

"Yeah...funny. Dead guy jokes. No wonder you're so popular."

"Okay, forget that. Just, tell me why you've always been so mean to me."

"I dunno. I guess it was my way to rebel."

"What do you mean?"

"My dad's a great guy. Fantastic dad, in his own way. I always knew he
loved me and he raised me with a purpose. You know, be good, grow up to be
a fine man, help people, take over the business, expand and be a
philanthropist, just like him. And, well, when I started high-school, I
just said `Fuck that shit!' I didn't want to be like him. I wanted to be
wild, have fun. Be the king of the school. And you were always an easy
target..."

"That...makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. You had a great family life,
a wonderful future ahead of you, so you decided to rebel and be an
asshole?"

"Well, I never claimed that my thought process involved any kind of
logic..."

"Christ, and now that you said that your dad's a good guy, I can't even
blame your asshole gene anymore. You were a jerk just because you WANTED to
be. Serves you right to be my pet ghost..."

"OH, SHIT!" we both exclaimed at the same time.

"You don't think..." I started.

"No. Not even angels could be such big dicks."

"But, it sorta makes sense."

"Oh, God...they put me with you as some sort of punishment? That's just
sick!"

I started grinning. "Oh, I dunno. This could be kinda fun. My own pet
ghost/Poltergeist. We could go for walks in the park, play fetch..."

"I could bug you when you sleep, shower, jerk-off..."

"N-no, you couldn't." I stammered. "You're supposed to do everything I say,
right? I'll just forbid you from doing those things. You'll be kinda like
my Pokemon. Only out when I call you."

"Friggin nerd...And that sounds like bullshit. That's cruel and unusual
punishment."

"I don't think any regulations regarding the treatment of prisoners applies
to dead people."

"Well, I won't stand it."

"Well, them's the rules, boy! So suck it up." Terry scowled at me then
dissolved into thin air. Now, you might have noticed that I was becoming
quite comfortable with the idea of talking to ghosts again.  But seeing him
vanish like that spooked me. Is he supposed to do that? If he's to do what
I say, then how do I get hold of him? I had started masturbating that
morning, when he interrupted, so maybe I was supposed to rub my dick three
times and wait for him to show up? I was seriously contemplating testing
that theory when mom's voice sounded from downstairs.

"Hudson, honey. You up there? I'm home."

"Mom, you'll never guess what Hudson did." My sister said excitedly,
running out of her room. Poor beast. Guess the previous night's lesson was
lost on her.

"Fern, what did I tell you last night? Your brother's business is not your
own unless he actually asks you to get involved. One more week added to
your sentence."

"Fine. Then I'm a lesbian from now on."

"Too bad. You'd be missing out. Your brother has better taste. Now go to
your room." My sister's response was a gurgling yell akin to something one
might stumble upon in a horror movie. I passed Fern on my way down the
stairs, as she was heading back up and she shot me her most terrifying evil
eye. Now, if there's anyone capable of voodoo, it's Fern. I had no doubt
that she would be heading straight back to her room and pulling out her
pentagram and book of spells, trying to make my ass extra hairy or give me
boobs or something. What can I say? She's evil, but in a childish way. God
save us all when she grows older, though. My blood runs cold at the very
idea. Anyway, getting sidetracked again...

I made my way to the living room, where mom was sitting on the couch. She
patted the seat next to her, signaling me to sit.

"On my way back from Church...By the way, Mrs. Courich wants you to
accompany her on a shopping trip next weekend. But I told her you lack any
and all fashion sense, so don't worry, dear. Anyway, on my way back, I
started thinking." She said, then stopped, tapping her chin with her index
finger. "Well, no beating around the bush. I was thinking about your sex
life."

"Oh, God, save me..."

"Now, now. What I was thinking was, you know, the whole stereotypical
portrayal of gays as being..."

"Promiscuous?"

"Slutty. Well, I realize that a lot of gay guys are like that, especially
younger ones. But that's a result of society, really. By not being totally
accepting and refusing equal rights to those of heterosexual couples, we're
basically encouraging promiscuity, as you say, instead of long-term, stable
relationships. But let's not get into that right now. My point is that, as
a mother, I want what's best for you. And I know you're horny. Straight or
gay, teens are always horny. But I want you to think about
something. Casual sex often leaves people feeling unsatisfied and
remorseful in the long run. Now, again, I know that such a life, filled
with one-night stands, works for quite a lot of people. Again, both
straight and gay. But when sex comes attached to strong emotions between
two people, it is far better, believe me. Your father and I...Well, I could
tell you stories."

"God, please don't..."

"Maybe some other time. Right now, as I was saying, I'm just thinking of
your own good, and my desire is that you experience sex with someone you
have feelings for. Ideally, it would be true love, but I would even settle
for at least getting to know and like each other before jumping into bed."

"So, you want me to wait until my wedding night or something?"

"Oh, goodness, no. But I would just hate it if you started having casual
sex. Especially if you're going to go cruising through public restrooms or
something equally distasteful." She shuddered.

"Don't worry, mom. I wasn't planning on doing that. I guess I'm a romantic
at heart as well, because I'd like nothing more than to have sex with
someone who loves me."

"And someone you love back, I trust. I don't want you using some poor boy
who falls prey to your charm..."

"Yeah, right mom. Whatever you say." I replied, rolling my eyes. Again with
the rose-tinted glasses. What does she see when she looks at me? A
crime-fighting superhero playboy? Did I mention that I totally love Batman?
And Iron Man too, even if he's a bit of a fascist.

"Right. But, again, I understand that you have your needs, so I did get you
something to tide you over until you find that special someone." She handed
me a plain paper bag. I reached in and pulled out a cream-colored dildo.

I dropped it like it was hot and started to sputter. "M-m-mom...I...You..."

"It's anatomically accurate, too. About average in size, because, let's
face it, unless you get EXTRA lucky, average is what you'll get in real
life as well. I'd have given you my vibrator, but I don't think such things
are recommended when it comes to second-hand transactions."

"Oh, God, that is...I really did NOT need to hear about your friggin
vibrator."

"Oh, don't tell me you didn't hear the noise at night sometimes. What, did
you think I was using the blender in my room or something?" she laughed. I
gagged.

"And what makes you think I'm a bottom, anyway?" I enquired, getting
defensive.

"Oh, don't get offended, dear. God gave men prostates in order to enjoy
anal sex. I think you'd be foolish to pass on it. I think being versatile
is the way to go. And you can masturbate in order to simulate..."

"Mom, please, for the love of all that is sacred, STOP!"

"Oh, don't be such a prude." I buried my face in my hands. "Fine, I won't
go into more details. But I will say that anal sex is enjoyable for both
parties, and this..." she said, taking out the dildo "...will help you
practice. Now, if you wish, we can discuss safe sex as well.  I assume you
know all about prophylactics. You'll find a box of condoms and lube in that
bag as well."

"Kill me now." I groaned.

"You are such a drama queen. Here you are." She pried my right hand away
from my face and placed the dildo in it, then handed me the bag, which I
took in my left hand. "Now scoot. I need to prepare lunch."

I walked up to my room in a daze. I'd never been so embarrassed before in
my life. Well, there was that one time in the school locker room...As I
passed my sister's room, she cracked open her door and peered outside, her
eyes settling on the dildo in my hand. She opened her mouth, no doubt to
deliver a scathing remark, but she must've thought better of it, because
she just shook her head and said "I don't even want to know" then closed
her door, probably going back to her evil incantations.

When I entered my room, I nearly crapped my pants as Terry appeared in
front of me, smirking.

"So, you're gay, huh?"

"What makes you say that?" He stared at the dildo and gave me a "you're
shitting me, right?" look. "Yeah, okay, you got me. Just one more thing for
you to make fun of me. If you could, that is..."

"Actually, I can. But more on that later."

"What?"

"I have no problem with you being gay. Different strokes, you
know. Whatever floats your boat."

"You're being awfully...adult about this."

"Well, personal experience helps."

"What do you mean?"

"Umm...some other time, man, okay? It's not really my business to say,
anyway."

"But you're dead. You are now released from any and all vows of secrecy."

"Well, when I take something with me to the grave, I mean it. Now, moving
along. You need to see something." He pointed to my desk, where a thin
leather envelope was placed. It looked almost like one of those fancy
journals. Which reminded me to find a better hiding place for my
diar...journal.

"What's that?"

"Call it an Idiot's Guide To Having Your Own Ghost."

"What do you mean?" I asked, curiosity propelling me towards the desk.

"Well, apparently, the guys upstairs don't want you to play me like an
yo-yo."

"Then what fun are you?"

"This isn't supposed to be fun. For either of us..."

"What do you mean? I thought it was a punishment for you."

"It is, but not exclusively. Look, just read the damn thing."

"I will, but if this turns up to be a prank that my sister thought of and
she drugged me and I'm hallucinating, I'm gonna kick her ass."

"Hey, it's your sister. What do I care?" he shrugged. "Just read the
thing. It's not long.

"I still can't believe I'm doing this. Letters from angels? For cryin' out
loud! I'm probably lying in a hospital bed somewhere and this is all a coma
dream."

"Well, if it is, what harm can it do to read the fucking thing already?"

I had to agree, so I opened the leather pouch and found a piece of vellum,
which I started reading.

"Dear Xander,

Think not of this as a punishment for Terrence. He is a good soul. He just
needs to be reminded of it. This is very much a test, for you both. He
needs to find himself, to realize his potential. It is never too late, not
even in death. And he can be of great help to you and through you,
Catalyst, to the world. Do what you were destined to do. We will all be
better for it.

What you must understand is that souls such as Terry's are all around
you. Some lost, trying to find their way home, others, like Terry, with a
pure purpose. Others, however, are malevolent. You will always be able to
recognize such spirits. Their essence is putrid. The very air around them
turns to ice, whereas Protectors will fill your essence with warmth. Trust
your instincts, Xander. They will help you just as much as your other
senses. And trust Terry.

He will never leave your side. He will never betray you. You are linked
now. Help each other and do great things. We will be watching, Catalyst."

I raised my eyes to Terry and stared at him for a long minute, then threw
the vellum in the trash. "What the fuck was that crap?"

"Umm, dude, maybe you shouldn't have thrown that away."

"Oh, give me a break. We're meant for great things? What the hell is that
all about? And why did they call me Catalyst? What is that supposed to
mean?"

"Dude, I don't know exactly. But it's true. They gave me a crash course of
sorts. Supposedly, there are people like you, who can see ghosts, and
actually use them. Most ghosts get attached to something or someone. A
house, the place where they lived or died, a person they loved or
hated. But most people aren't aware of it, of course, unless the spirit is
so malevolent that its physical manifestation is so strong that everyone
can observe it."

"Like a Poltergeist?"

"Yeah, exactly."

"Wait. That thing said that evil spirits give out a cold sensation and good
ones are warm. This morning, when you came, you went from warm to cold..."

Terry smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, sorry `bout that. Got my ass reamed for
that. I can't act like that towards you. Literally. If I do, I get consumed
or something. I'm 100% good...towards you, anyway."

"Okay, what do you mean people like me can USE ghosts?"

"Well, there are guardian spirits, and then there are...well, asshole
spirits. People like you, depending on their own nature, good or bad,
attract one or the other. And direct their power..."

"What power?"

Terry rolled his eyes and the entire room started to shake.

"Okay, okay, I get it. Stop."

"Okay. With me so far?"

"As ridiculous as it sounds...What choice do I have? Either I'm completely
crazy, or this shit is real. Either way..." I shrugged.

"Good. Now, one thing you need to know. I'm not all-knowing. I'm attached
to you. I can peer around a corner ahead of you, but I basically know what
you know. No omniscience. And I can't stray too far from you. "

"But what about now, when you disappeared?"

"Exception to the rule. I was called upstairs, remember?"

"So, what, I'm stuck with you?"

"Yep. But don't worry, I won't ride your ass 24/7. Like I said, I can't
stray TOO far, but we're not attached at the hip either. Oh, and one more
thing. While I'm actually supposed to obey you, I still have free will."

"Go on..."

"I'm a guardian spirit. A good guy." He said, smirking, causing me to roll
my eyes again. Seriously, all this eye rolling probably isn't good for
me. I might go cross-eyed one of these days. "So, you can't force me to use
my power for evil purposes."

"So no robbing banks?"

"Sorry. No dice, Clyde."

"So, you're Bonnie, then?"

"I walked right into that, didn't I? But at least I'm not the one with the
dildo." The bastard actually made me blush. "Oh, and with free will comes
the fact that, while you can make me stop using my powers, like this
morning, you can't make me stop talking. Or forcing me to do tricks like a
damn dog..." he said, narrowing his eyes menacingly. "This is a
partnership. True, a 60-40 partnership, in your favor, but remember. I
ain't your damn pet." He growled.

"Well, this isn't fun anymore." I pouted, sinking into my desk chair. "And
for the record, I still think this whole thing is too fucking ridiculous to
be real."

"Believe what you want, man. But we're stuck together for the time
being. So, let's make the best of it." He jumped on my bed. "What's on the
tube?" He looked at the wreck that used to be my beloved TV. "Damn. My
bad. I'm sure my dad will pay for a new one if you tell him you're a friend
of mine."

"Yeah, right. `Sir, your dead son was in my room and used his ghostly
powers to bust up my TV. Can I have a 70 inch plasma?' Besides, where am I
gonna meet your dad?"

"Well..."

My phone ringing interrupted Terry and I welcomed the distraction. It was
Sharon, of course.

"Hey, psycho."

"Hey, Conan."

"I hate it when you call me that."

"It's all out of love, baby."

"Yeah, yeah. So, tell me, are you still on about you killing Terry with
your brain?"

"Oh, definitely not. I know I didn't kill Terry."

"Good. I mean, I know about...well, your past, with Hightower and all, and
I was worried for a minute there."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm perfectly rational." I said, staring straight at
Terry, who had a big grin on his face. "Yep. 100% normal."

"Good. Because, well, tomorrow there's a memorial service of sorts for
Terry, at the school, and I wanted to go. I know you never liked him, and
after yesterday, I thought maybe you wouldn't go. Attendance isn't
mandatory, but I'd really like to go, and I thought you'd join
me. Closure."

"I don't know, Sharon. But I'll think about it."

"Good. Then see you tomorrow. Love ya, scrawny."

"You too." I said, smiling. Gotta love Sharon.

"Who was that?" Terry asked.

"Sharon, my best friend."

"The one who looks like she could take on a tank?" I nodded. "Cool. What'd
she want?"

I fidgeted a bit in my seat. After all, if Terry and I truly were stuck
with one another, he'd have to be with me at the service. Wouldn't that be
weird? Going to your own memorial service? "Well, she wanted to tell me
that there'd be a memorial service at school for you tomorrow."

"Well, of course. I was extremely popular, you know."

"And modest..."

"Oh, please, modesty is overrated."

"Anyway, she wanted to know if I'd go."

"Cool. Can't wait."

"You don't find it weird?"

"Nope. Think about it. How many people wish they could be in my situation?
Well, not die young, but still. It'll be cool to see people crying for me
and shit. Oh, Natalie's probably devastated." He announced gleefully.

"Gee, don't sound too compassionate..."

"Okay, so I still have a bit of asshole in me. Death doesn't really cure
all, okay?"

"Fine, then we'll go see your adoring masses paying tribute."

"Awesome. Then we need to see about the funeral home visitation and the
funeral itself."

"W-what?"

"Well, yeah. I wanna see all my family. You and I didn't really hang
together, you know." No shit. "Not exactly the same circles. So, if we're
gonna be trapped together, I probably won't have a chance to see most of my
family for a very long time, if ever again. It'd be nice to see them one
last time and say good-bye, even if they don't hear me." He said. He seemed
completely serious about the issue and, for the first time, I was struck by
reality. Terry might have been a jerk, but he had friends and family and he
cared for at least some of them. He never got to say good-bye. Most of us
don't get that privilege, but most of us get to live a hell of a lot more
than just 16 years. For the first time, I was forced to confront the real
pain surrounding Terry's death and I found that I wanted to do it. I wanted
him to see his family.

"Okay, dude. We'll check it out tomorrow." I said, smiling.

"Awesome!" he exclaimed. "I really wanna see my cousin Jordan. I'll miss
him most of all and I think he'll miss me too. He's a great guy. I think
you'll like him." Terry grinned broadly. "He's hot as hell, too..."