A visitation from the ghost of Samuel Johnson

I was taking my Friday night bath when I was visited by the ghost of writer Samuel Johnson.

I wasn’t embarrassed because ghosts are no longer body identified. The body for them is like a hat you throw on just before going outside, out of habit.

I lay in the tub, comfortable in my wet nakedness and said it was good to meet him. I always say that to every ghost I meet because I always say this to every living person I meet. I was raised to be nice no matter what.

The ghost of Samuel Johnson took his wig off and laid it on the sink. He sat on the toilet and rubbed his dead bald head with his hand and sighed. He undid the many laces of his ghost boots, and after removing them, unpeeled his leggings. Then the ghost of Samuel Johnson set his feet into the hot bath and remarked, “The warm waters, mixed with the lavender essence, are most relaxing.”