This is a story about one of my very first adventures. I was born in a haunted house--
Be quiet, Ellsworth! I didn't interrupt your so-called adventure. As I was saying, I was born in a haunted house in historic Fredericksburg. Oh, I was a handsome fellow. My mother loved me best of all her kittens. She said I had the longest, finest whiskers and the biggest, whitest hind feet--
She was right about your feet, Slats. I bet it took her a week to wash them.
You leave my mother out of it! Anyway, the house had been a hospital during the Civil War. A soldier ghost was supposed to walk around after midnight. One night I couldn't sleep. I crawled out of the box and padded into the hall. I saw a dark shape on the stairs. It was the ghost soldier! But was I scared? No! I figured the ghost was sad. So I rubbed around his legs--
You can't touch ghosts! They're like air.
My ghost was solid!
I don't believe your story for a second. If you saw a ghost, you'd faint. You're the biggest baby in the world. You're scared of thunder, like a dog. Every time a truck rumbles by, you hide under the ottoman. You're afraid of the mop in the closet!
You're just jealous because my story is better than yours. I will not stay here and be insulted.
Thank heavens he's gone . . .