It's all coming to a head. Oh God! What if it's a head in the pressure cooker?!
Rod stood silently in the doorway to the kitchen, not moving a muscle. He couldn't. He was too terrified. If he hadn't been 100% sure before, he certainly was now. There was a ghost in this house.
He stared at the pressure cooker on the stove. Though he was far away, he could still see from the large blue indicator rod that there was definitely something cooking on the gentle setting. So whoever or whatever put it there intended for it to be cooking for awhile.
Rod finally got up the courage to walk over to it and prepared himself for what he was about to discover. "Oh God," he thought. "What if it's an animal? Or worse. A body part. A HEAD! Oh, please don't let it be a head!"
His stomach churned at the thought, but he had to know. He placed one hand on the lid, swallowed nervously, and was just about to unlatch it when …
:::DING DONG DING DONG DING DONG DIIIING:::
"AHHHHH!" Rod screamed and jumped about a foot at the sound of the door bell chime. He gathered his composure and walked to the front door, glancing nervously back over his shoulder.
He reached for the door knob, and when the door swung open, he jumped again. "TIMMY?!"
"Hi ya, Mister. I noticed that your house was still up for sale, and I was just wonderin' if you needed me to mow your lawn to keep it nice for when people come over?"
"I reckoned I'd do it for free of course, since you gave me the lawn mower and all."
"TIMMY?! But I thought you were … I mean, if you're not in … then who …"
"Well, anyway. I'm just two doors down if you change your mind. See ya, Mister!"
Rod watched Timmy run off. He was dumbfounded. All this time he was convinced Timmy was a ghost haunting his house. He turned slowly and shut the door behind him. Then he started laughing. He stood in the entryway for a good five minutes, just shaking his head and laughing. But then he remembered ... and his blood ran cold again.
He walked back into the kitchen and looked at the pressure cooker on the stove. If he hadn't seen it with his own two eyes, he wouldn't have even noticed it was there. It was completely silent and steam-free. At least it was supposed to be.
Hovering right above the pot was some sort of vapor cloud. He watched as it dissipated right before his eyes. It was too much for Rod to handle. Just as he was about to run out of the house, he heard a loud THUNK.
His gut instinct was to run, but he mustered as much courage as he could and headed down the hallway. Then he saw it again. Hovering right in front of the guest bedroom door was the vapor cloud. Again, it dissipated before his eyes.
Rod walked into the bedroom and looked around nervously. He half-expected something to jump out from under the bed and grab his ankles. He looked down to make sure he was standing at a safe distance, when he noticed the vapor cloud hovering closer to the floor. Rod got down on all fours and peeked under the bed. And that's when it hit him. The smell, that is. It wasn't some sort of paranormal vapor cloud. It was smoke. Cigarette smoke.
"What the …" he said confused. And then it dawned on him. "Oh, NO WAY!"
Rod stood up quickly and pushed the bed out of the way. There, built into the floor that he had JUST had repaired, was a trap door. He threw it open and, standing there casually smoking a cigarette as if nothing was out of the ordinary was … Sylvia.
"Hey, Rod. Got tired of PB&Js. Making a roast for dinner. You hungry?"