Zoinks! by Dale Culp

A WebFiction Published Thrice Weekly

The enthralling, true tale of a trans girl just trying to get by and make the most of her life.

Also, she hunts ghosts and occasionally solves mysteries.

New to Zoinks!? Start at the beginning.

Chapter 3 - Act 2 - "Don't Believe Everything You See On TV"

"Oh, hell no. I ain't done. I ain't even started! Let's just go in the house and start busting ghosts, already," I demand, as I tease Philip into a game of 'Keep Away' with his stupid camera.

"Give it! Give it! Give it to me! GIVE IT TO ME!" Philip shouts.

Harlan makes a heartfelt plea, attempting to break us up, "People, people! Please! Let us enter dis unholy domicile and begin unraveling da truth of it's history directly from da woeful source. We shall commune wit da very spirits of dose who actually inhabited it, heyna?"

"Its," I interject.

"Eh? What's 'at?"

"Its. You said 'it's', but that's a contraction that means, 'it is.' You want the possessive form -- 'its.'"

"Oh, hey! Yeah, dat's right! I stand corrected. You know a couple two tree tings about grammar, heyna? Wait a sec, how did you..."

"Fine!" Philip concedes. "You're un-fired, and we're going inside. I just wanted a few exterior shots to show people what was here and the state of the building before we entered it. We have to document everything or we risk losing credibility!"

"Right, yeah, credibility. 'Woo!' credibility," I say while waving my hands in the air. "Shut up and get in the house!"

Philip pushes past me to open the door and enters the mansion, swinging a flashlight to and fro as he surveys the layout. Howard hands out flashlights to me and Harlan and we follow Philip inside while Howard takes up the rear. Suddenly, Philip whips out yet another gizmo with lights on it.

"Oh, God, now what do you have? What is that thing?" I ask, eyeballing the gizmo as Philip pulls it away from me. "Is it an idiot detector? I think you're pointing it the wrong way."

"No, it's a sarcastic bitch detector, and it would explode in my hands if I pointed it at you."

"You're god damn right it would."

Howard butts in, "It's a P.K.E. meter!"

"Oh, yeah?" I say. "No kidding..." I have no clue what a P.K.E. meter is.

"Psychokinetic energy — or P.K.E. — is a detectable and measurable energy given off by spectral apparitions," Philip explains. "Using a P.K.E. meter, ghost hunters like us can sense the presence, and direction of emanation, of a spectral apparition. See, that's what ghosts are made of. They are nothing but pure P.K.E."

"Oh! Pssh. Yeah. I knew that," I say, looking around to see if anyone will call my bluff.

Philip continues, "Well, also, sometimes primordial ooze, or ectoplasm."

I nod, "Of course they are."

Philip looks at me for moment. "You're not buying any of this, are you? In fact, you have no idea what any of what I just said means, do you?"

"Err, maybe?" Damn, he called my bluff.

"A very small subset of humans have learned to harness and manipulate psychokinetic energy to bend it to their own will. Uri Geller, for example, has been able to harness his P.K.E. in profound ways."

"Uri Geller? Oh, yeah, the spoon bender dude. He used to be on Carson every now and then. I thought James Randi proved he was full of crap?"

"Oh, please." Philip says. "Don't believe everything you see on TV."


  • Also, meta humor is my favorite.