I'm a ghost hunter. Please don't prejudge, I only marginally believed in the possibility that ghosts exist. I have a partner, Mickey,  and when the knock came at the door, I hadn't seen him for two weeks. He and I investigate supposed hauntings for people who do believe in ghosts and while I'm not rich, it is far more profitable than you would imagine.

As I said, the knock came at the door and I answered. A young kid, probably 14 or so, stood staring up at me when I opened the door.

"You Carson?" He asked aggressively

"Yeah, why?"

"Your partner said you'd give me five bucks. I got a message from him."

I considered haggling, but the kid looked tough. I dug into my wallet and handed him four singles and four silver quarters.

"He says, 'come get me, come get me... I'm at the Hargrave house... It's all real... For God's sake come get me.'"

"Why didn't he just call me?" I ask suspiciously.

" Do I look like a psychic? I was passing the house and he called me from the living room. I didn't ask no questions." He turned and walked briskly away.

I knew the Hargrave house. We were offered the job but passed because we couldn't contact the owner after he had contacted us. I guess Mickey decided to go on his own.

Mickey's message left a bad taste in my mouth. I didn't believe it and of course, I assumed he was playing a joke on me, but I had no choice but to go and check it out.

I got to the house. It wasn't particularly impressive or scary looking. Mid-century, an ugly watercolor peach paint job, ranch style and basically boring. I approached the front door, it opened easily.

As soon as I entered, Mickey ran up to me and hugged me so tightly that I lost my breath.

"Oh thank God, thank God, you got my message," he screamed in a quavering voice. He began sobbing. I helped him to a nearby couch and we sat down.

"What the hell is going on Mickey?"

"I'll tell you," he said staring into my eyes, "but first you have to agree to take my place."

" Take your place?"

"Just do it!" He looked desperate.

"OK, OK. I'll take your place, now what's going on?"

He suddenly calmed down, then began laughing. He hugged me again.
" Oh, thank you, thank you so much. I'm sorry that you have to go through it now, but I can't take anymore, honestly I can't!"

He began to nervously fidget with his buttons and a cufflink. Then he looked up at me nervously and declared, "This house is really haunted. You'll see in a second. Your phone won't work and you won't be able to leave. I swear I'll try to get you out somehow."

His manner began to affect me. I became nervous myself. Then I saw them. Three shapes wandering around the living room. Even in my limited experience, I could recognize them as ghosts. I jumped up.

Mickey saw my reaction. " You see them don't you? Don't worry they won't hurt you, their arsenal of horrors is far worse than that. I've been here for seven days. I was ready to hang myself. I'm going to go now, I have to go now."

"Wait a second, Mickey, don't just leave now. What is it they're going to do to me?" I was terrified.

"They're going to bore you to death!"

"What?!! That's insane!"

"You'll be insane. You see the one in the plaid blazer. For seven days he's been reading Proust's Remembrance of Things Past aloud."

"That's it?" I asked incredulously.

"Have you ever read Proust? It's seven volumes, over 4000 pages and I think it's a bad translation. He won't stop." Mickey began to sob again, " and the one in tweed, he's some sort of a politician and he's reading all the minutes from the 1936 congressional minutes of the state legislature of New Hampshire, Lord save us!"

I had to admit it didn't sound pleasant."What about the one in the lab coat?"

Mickey tried to regain his composure. He answered slowly. "He's a mathematician of some kind, he's just constantly explaining the theory of relativity and number theory and going through all sorts of mathematic proofs, it's unbearable."

"I have to admit none of that sounds pleasant, but it doesn't sound that bad."

"Wait until the fourth day without sleep. I never thought boredom could be a dagger, but it is. Even the food."

"The food? They feed you?"

"Of course, they're not gonna let you starve, how would you listen? Each day you'll get a meal of broccoli, poi, and Tang." Mickey got up and ran towards the door. He looked back before exiting, "I promise I won't forget you." And just like that he was gone.

As I tried to take in what just happened, the ghost in the plaid blazer approached and addressed me.

"Don't worry," he smiled wickedly, "I'm done with Proust. I have some delightful James Joyce to share with you, I could start at the beginning, but it doesn't really matter, does it, it is Joyce after all."

Oh my God, I thought, not Joyce.

He sat next to me and began,
"...So nay by night by naught by naket, in those good old lousy days gone by, the days, shall we say? of Whom say we? while kinderwardens minded their twinsbed..."

Suicide does not seem unreasonable.