"Let me see if I have everything right," Mike said to Mike taking off his hat and wiping his face. He had had to sit with Micky listening to his crazy story for almost two hours and it was getting quite strenuous on the Texan's part. "You want to stay up tonight--Halloween night--to catch a ghost who will try and scare us out of the Pad by possibly opening and closing the fridge and messing up our garage and you want us to help you. Am I right so far?"

"Uh-huh," Micky answered optimistically.

"And you talked to Mr. Babbit about this and he confirms this that there is in fact a ghost in our Pad that will try to scare us this night, correct?" Mike continued. Micky nodded violently wearing a smile. His friend understood after two hours of haggling. "You woke up our landlord to ask about a ghost who leaves white towels in all the bathrooms and Mr. Babbit said that yes there is a ghost that leaves towels in bathroom, right?" Micky, once again, nodded. "And now, you want Davy, Peter, and me to stay up all night tonight and catch this ghost that leaves white towels in all the bathrooms, leaves the fridge door open, and glues breadboxes shut, is that it?"

"By George I think he's got it," Micky exclaimed banging the table on his fist for emphasis.

"There you go with that English bit," Mike sighed putting his lightly dampened hat back atop his wavy hair.

"Now let me ask you this," Micky began.

"No, not another question," Mike groaned.

"Last one; I promise," Micky said. "What would it hurt to stay up and try and catch a ghost who can only do the stuff he can do?"

"I think I'm gonna loose eight hours sleep is what'll happen," Mike retorted. "Lookit, all that'll happen, if what you say is true, is that our garage will be a mess--like it hasn't been before--our fridge door will swing and our breadbox will be stick plus we'll have towels in our bathroom. Y'know what that says to me? That says our bathrooms'll have fresh towels, our garage will remain a disaster area, our milk'll go bad, and our bread'll stay fresh. And you want Me and Davy and Peter too loose sleep?"

"That's it!" Micky exclaimed perking up.

"No it's not," Mike shook his head.

"Look, you want me to explain it again?"

"No!...I mean, no that's alright. I don't think I can live that long."

"But will ya do it for me? I mean, milk's getting expensive y'know."

"Talk to Peter and Davy. Whatever they say. I'll do. Now will you stop with the lectures and let me get back to my normal, non-ghost life?"

"With pleasure, my good man," Micky said putting an arm around front and bowing at the head.

"Alright me, that old English is getting old, man"

Peter and Davy walked in the door holding bags and bags of Halloween candy. The day was very very productive.

"...And then you can give the candy to the mummies and the vampires and the witches and I can give them to the angels and the knights and the cowboys," Peter rambled walking through the door and Davy made his way to set the heavy bags on the table. "Then you can give them to the dragons and the dinosaurs and the Frankensteins and I'll give them to the space men and the princesses and the clowns, well, not all the clowns; just the clowns that look happy. And then you can give candy to the grim reapers and the skeletons and the Insurance sails men and I can..."

"PETAH!" Peter jumped at the sound of the loud little Englishman's voice and cowered back slightly putting his arms in front of his face for protection. Davy took a breath and continued. "I'm not handing out candy, remember? I'm taking the kids through the Pad. *Mike's* handing out candy."

"Who's talkin' about Mike?" Mike asked sneaking up on the two. They both jumped and screamed and caught their chests by the scare.

"Don't do that," the two said in unison.

"I was just telling Peter that you and he were the ones handing out candy," Davy explained.

"Oh, right," Mike said.

"OK, then. Mike, I've figured out who'll be handing out the candy to who," Peter began.

"Shoot," Mike said.

"OK, you can give the candy to the mummies and the vampires..." Peter began, walking with Mike out of the kitchen and out of the scene. Mike followed beside, nodding his head.

Just then, Micky ran into the kitchen from the stares to Davy, who was still busy unloading the candy. Micky seemed anxious. Davy did not seem to notice.

"'Ey, Micky," Davy greeted his friend. "Still looking for that towel boy?"

"List, I need a favor to ask you," Micky began. He then proceeded to explain the abridged version of his visit to the landlord and the plans that night. Davy listened with half an ear open still separating the candy. Micky was too busy explaining to notice his friend's lack of interest and soon ended his speech with, "So you think you and Peter'll do that?"

Davy, catching only the last line, answered distractedly, "Sure, man, whatever." Micky lit up and ran off to tell Mike. Davy continued separating candy.

Then Micky marched back in.

"Wait a minute," he began in a suspicious voice. "You didn't hear a word I said, did you?"

"Of course I did," Davy answered. "What, you think I don't listen to you anymore?"

"Then what did I just say?" Micky quizzed. Davy paused in hesitation. He truly had no clue in the least as to what Micky had just explained. The only thing running through his mind was mints, chocolates, sugar candies, mints, chocolates, sugar candies, occasional gummy bear...etc. Think, man, think.

"You want..." he slowly replied, "to stay up all night and look for ghosts."

"And..."

"...And you want Peter to help you..." Davy continued faking confidence.

"And..."

"...And Mike?"

"Almost there..."

"And Mr. Schnieder," Davy finalized with great confidence. Micky shook his head in disappointment.

"No, I don't want dummy," Micky said. "I've already got Peter."

"Well, what did Mike say?" Davy asked.

"I...haven't asked him yet," Micky lied.

"Well, I guess whatever he thinks is alright by me," Davy answered. "You're still showing the kids through the Pad tonight, right?"

"Sure thing," Micky answered happily. "I've even got my costume"