“NO CALL IN ORDERS” screamed the ghost through the phone receiver. Each word it screamed sounded as if it was said three times almost in unison. The voice rocked Winston’s inner ear making him dizzy. The pizza oven door started opening and slamming.

“I’m not calling in an order, I just want to help you” Winston replied.

“NOT HIRING” screamed the ghost causing Winston to lean away from the phone. It’s voice still in that 3 disconcerting voices. At this point the broken mixer started shaking as the dough hook started moving.

Changing tactics Winston went with “I know your not hiring but I’m calling about that problem you have.”

“YOUR LATE, NOW GET THEM OOOUUUUT” wailed the ghost. Winston had quickly wisened up and pulled the phone from his ear. The large prep table began levitating off of the ground.

Winston’s mind started going into overdrive, did the ghost mean Isaac and Jace. Was he trying to ruin their business or was he trying to keep his kitchen the way it was at his death? Where did the hole in the office go? How did the ghost get bound into the box and hidden if this place has been empty for decades?

Before Winston had the chance to ask who the ghost wanted out, the lights in the room flickered and went out. The deep bass rumble of thunder rumbled so strong that even through multiple walls he could feel it in his chest.

“Who do you want out” Winston squeaked out startled from the sudden darkness.

“EVERYTHING” the ghost hollered so loud that the speaker on the phone popped loudly and the phone went dead. Winston felt that last scream like a slap in the face and punch in the gut.

Slamming the receiver down on the phone, Winston was quickly was losing his patience with this ghost. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he used the flashlight function to locate the syringe of blood and then squirting half of it into the ramekin in the box.

The pizza oven doors started slamming more violently and the prep table slammed back down onto the ground. The mixer machine was spinning so fast that it started making a loud keening noise.

Winston lifted his phone to start shining light around to see if anything was being affected by the ghost. A heavy wooden rolling pin was levitating in the middle of the room, and then flung at Winston. Rather than try to dodge the rolling pin, he lowered his head down and braced for impact by pure instinct. The rolling pin smashed into his safety hat knocking Winston onto his back, his phone flying from his grip.

White and red lights flashed in his vision, the sharp taste of metal in the back of his throat and hearing began to ring. Winston was used to taking abuse, but this rolling pin had really rocked him. If he hadn’t been wearing a hard hat it would have really brained him.

Laying on his back Winston was confused on what just happened as he opened his eyes and saw nothing. For a second, he thought he was still in that dark basement he grew up in, and another beating was coming. Adrenaline started pumping through his veins, blocking the pounding pain coming from the top of his head and thoughts cleared enough that he could hear someone screaming.

“What the hell is going on in there” Isaac yelled from the other side of door.

Winston rolled over onto his stomach, and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees.

“JUST KEEP OUT” Winston yelled back his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Crawling around he started feeling around for the box and knot. He was ready to bind this ghost into the box and purify it in fire then piss on its ashes. One of the tens sticky pad pulling from his then the other. His left hand touching the battery pack before the box he gripped it and held it in front of and in the general direction of where the rolling pin came from.

“SHOW YOURSELF” Winston commanded the ghost as he channeled power from the battery pack.

The soft blue glow of light formed a little to the left of where he was focusing. A short, unshaven, and grizzled man in a chef’s coat came into focus floating inches above the ground. His arms crossed as he gave Winston a death glare. Ligature marks around his neck showed that his death was suicide and most likely in that kitchen.

The blue light of the ghost created enough ambient light that Winston could see the box and knot and crawled over to it.

“YOUR LATE” screamed the ghost in its discordant voice. The air around it seemed to ripple with force of his scream, as it stared at Winston crawling back to the box.

Winston’s right hand grasped the box, pulling it to his chest as he balanced on his knees. The ghost flung a ford at him, it sticking deeply into his right shoulder. Winston could easily ignore such a small pain, especially as pissed as he was. He adjusted his grip on the box, holding it by its lip. His left hand gripping the battery, he shoved the battery in the direction of the ghost and began drawing power from it.

His left hand tensed up as the muscles in his forearm began writhing. The power coursing through his arm from the battery causing every muscle in his left arm up to his elbow spasm. Ignoring this fact, he channeled his best impression of Brad Pitt and screamed a phrase he never thought would be used in a magical spell while shoving the box at the ghost.

“WHAT’S IN THE BOX” while then shoving the box in the ghost’s direction. The words chosen not from watching the movie, but a commonly used scene parodied and mimicked.

The ghost’s eyes widened as it started being pulled towards the box. Its essence stretching like a rubber band as it fought the pull of the spell. Until the barest part of the ghost was pulled into the box and touched the blood.

Like a junkie, his eyes took on a glazed look and he froze for the briefest of seconds. It slammed its ethereal body into the box to absorb the vitality emanating from the fresh blood. The force was so strong it knocked the box out of Winston’s hand and onto the ground, the lid swinging shut. It shook for a second and then stopped, and everything that was affected by the ghost just stopped. Knives, forks, and spooks clattered onto the ground, as the mixer slowed down to a stop, and the pizza oven doors were left open.

Feeling around the floor with his right hand for the knot, his right hand touched one of the loose strings and grasped it. Shoving it onto the box, he pulled the last vestiges of energy from the battery and yelled “Gotchya.” The cut strings from the knot dug into the box, knots weaving around every side. The strings tightening until the wood began to creak.

Winston collapsed onto the ground, exhausted, every inch of his body hurt. He could see the light from his phone under the prep table, and he began crawling over to it. The fork moved around aggravating the cut until he stopped and pulled it out and shove it in his pocket.

Grabbing his phone, he used the flashlight function to locate his shirt. Pulling it over his head, he was extra gentle with his wounded shoulder. The blood staining his shirt, he was thankful that he wore cheap clothing and had a ton of these shirts.

Grabbing the locked wood box, he was happy that he had finished the job. He was ready to purify this ghost with fire but first he need to show it to Isaac first, then he needed to fix the mixer motor.