“There be a lot of rules to bein’ a ghost,” said The Skid. He gave the appearance of being seated across the table from The Hook. What he was doing, in fact, was hovering his body a hair’s width above the seat. It had taken him many hours of practice to perfect the manuever, but he certainly did not lack for time to practice.
“Oh yeah,” said The Hook. His voice was as flat as roadkill. He ate his breakfast cereal with a solemn look on his face. Milk drizzled down his chin and got soaked up in his whiskers.
[20 Minutes is a self-imposed ritual in which I write, uninterrupted, for 20 minutes a day. No self-editing is the goal. Just 20 minutes hammering on the keys. After the 20 minutes, I am allowed to clean up spelling and grammar errors, but the rest must stay as is. 20 minutes a day. Every day. Today is day 9.]