So the title to this post is kinda long and complicated, but it pretty much explains itself, yeah?
I've always had an overactive imagination. I attribute it to a healthy dose of Scooby Doo and creepy stories I was made to read in school, like one where a dead guy's foot snapped off from getting too cold, and another guy tricked this other guy into thinking the cow ate him.*
*Actual story I was made to read
Thankfully I've grown out of being a chicken, for the most part. (My sister would laugh at that, and tell you no.)
But I tell you, some pretty strange things have happened in my grandmother's house. Here's a paraphrased version of what happened.
This evening-
Sister: Did you turn the tv off last night?
Me: No, we fell asleep with it on.
Sister: No, I turned it off last night and put the remotes on the table.
Me: Okay, so?
Sister: It was on when I woke up.
Me: ...
Sister: ...
Me: It's our own Jedi ghost I'm so excited what are we going to name him
Sister: ...Felix.
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