The ghost was eating a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. The freaking ghost was eating a freaking peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. Unbe-freaking-lievable.

I stared at him, mouth agape, as he munched on the sandwich. He seemed not to notice that I was staring at him. He began to speak around a mouth full of peanut-butter-and-jelly.

"You know, if you leave your mouth open long enough, your tongue will start to dry up. It feels really weird, but I wouldn't suggest it at this time of the night. By the way, I like your pajamas." I flushed a dark red as I folded my arms over my chest, attempting to cover up the fact that I wasn't wearing a bra. This wasn't too hard, seeing as my boobs were itty bitty little things. The specter that had invaded my kitchen began to rummage through my parents refrigerator, searching for the milk.

"Why are you eating all of my parent's food?" I questioned.

"I like peanut-butter-and-jelly. They didn't have it when I was alive. I didn't even know I could eat or touch things until I became a poltergeist. So, basically, just before you guys moved in." Jonathan emerged from the fridge, milk in hand, and a triumphant look on his face. "Sandwich?" He levitated the uneaten half of his sandwich at me while he guzzled the milk from the jug. I plucked the food out of the air and tossed it into the garbage, a disgusted look on my face.

"You're gross." I said, grabbing the remainder of the milk from his hands and putting it away.

"I never expected you to think otherwise." Jonathan belched and scratched his stomach for emphasis. "You really should go back to bed. Liza and Harold will be upset if you don't get up for school tomorrow." I rolled my eyes.

"Fine. I'm going to bed. Don't forget to turn out the light." I turned and started walking back up the stairs to my room. I felt a light pat on my butt and turned to reprimand Jonathan, but he was gone, the only thing left was his lingering laugh. "Stupid poltergeist." And with that, I trudged up the rest of the stairs to bed.

The next day, I was awakened by the usual. Jonathan.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Jonathan beamed at me from above, his hands (and something else, I assumed) were behind his back.

"What are you on? It's a Monday. Monday mornings are never good. Moron." I turned over in my bed and snuggled back into my comforter. The warmth lasted only a second before the covers were jerked off of my bed. I groaned and muttered my way out of bed, Jonathan hovering just a few feet behind me. He followed me all the way down to breakfast, where he smiled over my shoulder as I munched on a brand name cereal that had a word search on the back of the box. I studied it as my mom came bustling in from the garage with another jug of milk. She stood and looked at me for a moment.

"Why on earth are you up at five thirty?" She asked, confused. I jerked my thumb over my shoulder at Jonathan as an explanation.

"Good morning, Liza. How was your night?" Jonathan said, staying behind me, with what I'm sure was one of his maniacal grins plastered across his face. My mother rolled her eyes, used to his early morning antics.

"I slept fine, thank you." She answered, shuffling over to the pantry to get herself her regular Monday morning Poptart. It popped up out of the toaster as my dad came into the kitchen to get his coffee.

"Harold, your daughter verbally abused me first thing this morning. What do you have to say about it?" Jonathan asked, finally floating out from behind me.

"Can't talk… Need coffee…" My dad muttered, scratching his head as he looked around the kitchen for the coffee maker. My mom turned him so that he was facing the right counter and kissed his cheek. My dad grunted gratefully, and began preparations for his breakfast. Once he had had his coffee, my dad began to speak in sentences. "I can't wait to get to class today. We're about to start preparing for our performance of 'As You Like It.' You should try out for Rosalind, Malari. You'd be perfect for the part." I rolled my eyes as my dad began searching for the milk.

"Yeah, especially because of her small—" Jonathan grinned after my dad gave him a look, cutting him off. "What? I was going to say stature."

"Where's the milk?" My dad questioned, glaring at each of us in turn. Mom and I looked at each other, then pointed at Jonathan. He was, once again, chugging milk straight from the jug. I sighed, and grabbed it away from his lips. My dad wiped off the rim and poured some into his bowl of cereal. Mom looked at him funny for wiping off the rim. "You never know what sort of things that ghost carries on him!"

"Well, I have to get ready for another very stimulating day of school. Be down in a few!" I rushed back up the stairs and quickly prepared for my early morning shower. Carrying my towel with me, I headed for the bathroom down the hall from my room. When I was finished showering, I reached out of the bathtub for my towel, and finding air, stepped out to see if it had fallen on the floor. I stood, naked and dripping in the middle of my bathroom, staring in horror at Jonathan, who had my towel clutched in his hand. He grinned, and I screamed as he dropped it on the floor and fled for the attic. Wrapping the towel around myself, I cursed at the air, wishing I could throttle him.

Needless to say, Jonathan stayed safely in the attic until I had left for school.

AN: Wow, this chapter was longer than I thought it'd be! Anyways, I hope you liked it because I certainly do. I will continue to provide you with chapters so long as you remember to click that little button down below this to review. And I might make some of it extra entertaining if you tell all your friends and get them to read and review. Pretty please?