“WHY AREN’T YOU GONE?” I screamed as I sat bolt upright in bed and leaned towards him, hands waving in the air as if to make him go away.
“I never leave,” Fred said calmly. “You are my job until you die. That’s the rule. I don’t make the rules. I just do what I am told. I am an excellent rule obeyer.”
I sighed, totally exasperated.
“But…but…I can’t have you watching me,” I persisted. “All…the…time.”
“You’re bothering me…” I tried to go the sympathy road…a little wheedling can go a long way, I thought. I can wheedle with the best of them.
“Stop wheedling. It won’t work. I have to watch you. Watch OVER you is the correct term..to be precise.”
“You are going to drive me to drink!!” I shouted at him and then thought…what a great idea.
I slipped out of bed, turned the overhead light on and walked down the hall to the kitchen.
I knew there was an almost full bottle of Jim Beam in the cupboard that I occasionally used for just this purpose…to sleep…perchance to dream. Hah! What a joke that was.
I reached up and took the bottle down and turned to open another cabinet to get a glass.
“JESUS CHRIST!!!!” I yelled and almost dropped the bottle of whiskey.
Fred was hovering behind the breakfast bar!
“I’m sure He heard that…by the way.” Fred said with a hint of reproach in his voice.