NOOT O'CLOOK

Stan sighed.  He sets down his project and gets up to follow Ford.  He’d rather ignore whatever Ford’s got going on right now, but the chances of him leaving Stan in peace seem pretty slim.  “What’s up, poindexter?”

Ford bounces impatiently as Stan pulls himself out of the lounge chair.  “I finished setting up for an experiment that requires your presence!”

Stan rolls his eyes.  “That’s not ominous or anything,” he mutters to himself as Ford corrals him into the cabin.  “Why exactly do you need me?”

“Well…”  Ford hesitates for a second.  “There is a spirit that has attached itself to you.”

“A spirit attached…”  He takes a moment to process.  “Wait, Ford, are you saying I’m haunted?!”

Ford looks a bit sheepish and then admits, “To put it simply, yes.  Given its activities it appears to be benign or benevolent, but it is still wise to investigate these things.”

“Oh, holy Moses.”  He’s haunted, and he didn’t know.  “How long do you think this thing’s been on me?”

“Well,”  Ford muses as they enter the lab, “I’ve never seen one so firmly attached to a person before, normally an attachment like this would only be to a place or an heirloom or such, and attachments get stronger with time, so it must be… at least a few decades old.”

“You’re telling me a ghost has been on me for decades???”

“Yes, I suppose I am.  You know, it doesn’t seem reminiscent of any of the ghosts I researched back in Gravity Falls.  It’s truly an anomaly!”  Ford has the gaul to look thrilled at this.

Why is his brother like this?  “I’m glad you’re having fun but can’t we just get this thing off of me?”

“Give me a moment.  With a ghost this firmly attached, it’s easier to exorcise if we can see and trap it first.  Though, as I said, given its behavior I do not believe we need to worry.”

“Right, behavior that you’ve been keeping track of!  How long have you known I was haunted before you said anything?!?”

“Only a few weeks, I didn’t want to compromise the data while I was still testing hypotheses,” he rattles off dispassionately as he digs through some papers on his desk.

Stan dragged a hand across his face, a few weeks before telling him.  “You’re impossible, Ford.”

“Yes, yes,” Ford waves him off dismissively.  “Ah, here’s my notes.  This spell should make it visible to us.  Here, hold this.”  He finishes rustling through some jars and hands him a weird smelling collection of herbs and twigs that remind him of Ma’s incense.

Stan sighs holding the bundle and lets Ford guide him into a circle of ruins Ford drew on the ground.  “Should I be worried about any of this magic nonsense you got set up?”

Ford rolls his eyes as he lights some candles.  “Please, Stanley, do you think I’d do something dangerous without warning you?”

Stan shoots his brother a look.  “You really want me to answer that?”

Ford glares back.  “There’s nothing to worry about, at most there might be a flash of light as the spell completes.”  He gives the scene in front of him a once over and nods approvingly.  “Well, we’re all set up, just need to read the incantation.  Are you ready, Stan?”

“Go ahead,” Stan sighs, gesturing for Ford to continue.

Ford nods and starts chanting in latin or something, before he knows it there’s a blinding flash.

The light clears and his vision is back and Ford has a look of surprised glee on his face staring at a space right over his left shoulder.  “Why hello there!  That explains why the spirit was so attached to you.”

There’s a hiss from behind his neck.  He tries to turn and see what’s behind him but whatever it is clinging close to him.  “Holy crap Ford, what’s going on?”

“Oh, yes, um, let me.”  Ford fishes out a mirror from his pile of supplies and turns it to face Stan.

There blue, glowing, translucent, and hovering right over the back of his shoulder was a grumpy old possum.  “Shanklin?”  He reaches up to hold the little guy and he jumps into Stanley’s arms.  “Buddy, you’ve been here this whole time?”  As Shanklin burrows his nose into the crook of his elbow affectionately, he can definitely feel his little pal, even if he’s not quite solid.  There’s a chill where Shanklin touches him but he can’t help but feel warm holding his old pet anyway.  Stan does his best to give him some affectionate scritches even if Shanklin doesn't have much in the way of tangibility.

“Definitely a benevolent spirit,” Ford says brightly as he jots down some notes.

“Benevolent!” Stan exclaims in faux outrage, “Don’t insult Shanklin like that!  He’s a no good miscreant!”  Shanklin hisses in agreement.

Ford rolls his eyes fondly.  “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”  He looks back to his notepad and hums thoughtfully.  “Now, we need to figure out what to do with him.”

Stan’s eyes narrow suspiciously, he clutches his ghostly possum protectively.  “What do you mean ‘do with him’?”

Ford furrows his brow as he continues writing in his notepad.  “Well, he’s going to need a more permanent solution for visibility and tangibility.  I can’t imagine it was good for him to go ignored all these years, we’ll need to acclimate him to interaction.  Some method of communication might be helpful, I wonder if we could make that opossum translator we tried to invent that summer?  I also need to make sure any defenses I have against supernatural interference won’t get in Shanklin’s way.  We should test the bounds of the attachment as well, make sure it’s not dangerous to either of you.  Do you think he’d appreciate a cat bed?  We could pick one up next time we’re at port.”

Oh good, Ford wants to keep him too, Stan thinks to himself, relieved he won’t have to argue with his brother about this.  As Ford sorts out the logistics of keeping a ghost as a pet aloud, he smiles fondly at the ghost that is settling into a nap in his arms.