THE EXORCISM OF EMILY ROSE MEGEE

DAY ONE: BOLT UPRIGHT! I sat up in bed, bolt upright, (jerkingly, to be correct) and stared around the dark bedroom. Something had awaken me at 4 a.m. Just then, the bay windows in the turret flooded with light, illuminating the green velvet chaise and Atticus, who was sleeping with his head on the pile of sock monkeys. "One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand," I whispered. The thunder clapped loudly. Our first storm at Chestnut house had arrived. I slipped out of bed and pulled on a pair of tight jeans and a low-cut orange-crepe peasant blouse and slowly sauntered down the grand staircase, looking for leaks as I went along. "The house is dry!" I proclaimed in a high pitched accent (inside my head), and entered our second living room. I immediately hurled myself onto the second powder blue Georgian sofa. (This sofa is the $7.99 Goodwill knock-off of our other living room's powder blue Georgian sofa). I flayed myself across it and didn't move for four days. Ennui. Something had possessed me with Ennui. I had been possessed with Ennui.

DAY FIVE: Today, I finally broke the Ennui spell by mowing the lawn. It had to be done. Besides, I was feeling ornery. And you can't feel ornery and ennuied at the same time. So I slipped on a embroidered sun tunic, elastic band capri-pants, and a linen garden hat and started the mower. As the lawnmower dragged my cantankerous self around the yard, something caught my eye---a figure in a suit staring out of the third floor window and then vanishing. I fell to the ground and stared up at our grand Victorian like the girl in Andrew Wyeth's "Christina's World" painting. My legs started to itch. Boils began to form. My stomach turned-making me run to our water closet, praying I would make it in time. This is where I sat for four days. Cholera. Something had possessed me with Cholera. I had been possessed with Cholera.

DAY NINE: I finally left the water closet. It was time. I had finally run out of periodicals to read. I changed into my Carhart duck-bib overalls, a Pendleton flannel shirt, and Wolverine work boots and began the second floor kitchen demolition. (The room that will become the grand guest suite.) Just as I hit my "eager beaver" deconstruction rhythm, a door slammed shut, the room plunged to darkness, a kitchen cabinet fell, pinned me to the wall, and I coughed. Oh, and I saw blood! This is where I stayed pinned for four days. Consumption. Something had possessed me with Consumption. I had been possessed with Consumption.

DAY THIRTEEN: Jon finally pried me loose from the cabinet trappings, and I started spewing out my "possession" theory.

"I am possessed by the ghost of Mr. Finch!"

Jon just laughed and handed me coffee in a Gold Crown, semi-vitreous, powder-blue wedding china cup, and proceeded to channel his best Angela Lansbury---"You see darling, the noise that woke you thirteen days ago? The hookers down the street yelling at their pimps to pick them up before it started to rain. The ennui, well, you, on accident, took three of my Ambiens! The figure in the window, that was me, getting a stylish outfit together for Eric's "bad bar crawl birthday." Oh, and the boils--chiggers! The Diarrhea--that late night Taco Bell lava taco. Dust from the debris made you cough and cut through a outlet plug. And the blood is from the drill hitting your hand!...

But, I slowly tuned Jon out, as I often do, and stared at the gold-framed mirror on the living room mantle. There, standing next to Jon's reflection, was Mr. Finch, in a suit-- holding a brown whiskey bottle.

Coughing into a finely woven lace handkerchief, Mr. Finch smiled at me and sat down in the red wooden rocker, where he stayed for four days.

-Ron (and Jon, and Atticus)