We named the bathroom ghost. He’s apparently been on the lease since we moved in.
October 7, 2026
The Door Was Closed for a Reason
Fat Fucking Whore—FFW for short—was in heat.
That is important context because FFW in heat is not the same animal as FFW under ordinary operating conditions. Regular FFW is already a pretty cat with the spirit of an unpaid collections agent. Heat-cycle FFW becomes a floor-crawling, leg-rubbing, full-volume horny roach with no respect for personal space or established household law.
She had also developed a separate hobby: pulling used wipes out of the bathroom trash and scattering them into the hallway like a deeply unsanitary interior decorator.
So I closed the bathroom door to keep her out and left the light on because I was going back in there to become soup.
The light was not on for ambiance or because I had abandoned my responsibilities to the electric bill. The bath was still an active worksite. I had merely stepped away from soup operations temporarily.
The door was not closed because something mysterious was happening behind it. It was closed because I did not want to walk into the hallway and find that FFW had curated another exhibit from the bathroom garbage while I was trying to marinate in peace.
This was pest control. This was evidence preservation. This was management doing what management had to do.
Who Is in the Bathroom
Lady Glitter Sparkles looked toward the bathroom and said, with the exact delivery of somebody about to tell me either the house was haunted or a stranger had breached the perimeter:
I have a question.
I immediately prepared for information I did not want.
Who’s in the bathroom?
Nobody was in the bathroom.
I told her the door was closed because FFW kept stealing used wipes from the trash, and the light was on because I was going back in there to become soup. That should have concluded the investigation.
It did not.
Sparkles was not asking about the bathroom door because she wanted a sanitation update. She was asking because she had apparently assigned the bathroom its own supernatural occupant.
I had been frightened by the way she asked the question. She was frightened because she believed there might actually be somebody in there.
These are two very different emergencies.
The Naming Committee
Once a ghost has been accused of occupying the bathroom, the responsible next step is obviously to name him.
I wanted to name him Fred.
Unfortunately, Drop Dead Fred already exists. She is a real living woman, one of my closest friends, and a recurring member of this operation. Giving the bathroom ghost the same name would create unnecessary confusion.
I cannot spend the rest of my life clarifying whether Fred ignored my carefully written professional script or made the toilet run by herself at three in the morning.
So the finalists were Milton and Earl.
Earl sounds like he’s haunting a shed.
A shed can have Earl. Earl can stand beside a rusted lawn mower and sigh whenever the wind changes.
Our ghost lives in a bathroom and apparently has administrative duties.
Milton it is. The house ghost.
Milton Has Seniority
According to Sparkles, Milton has likely been here since we moved in.
Before he had a name, he was already being blamed for bathroom activity. One of his earliest alleged accomplishments was making the toilet run.
This means Milton did not begin haunting us when we named him. We merely formalized a position he had apparently held for some time.
The bathroom is not just a bathroom anymore. It is Milton’s fucking office.
The light being on does not mean somebody forgot to turn it off. Milton may be working late. The closed door does not mean the room is empty. Milton may be reviewing quarterly haunting metrics or processing a backlog of toilet-related complaints.
Frankly, his attendance record may be better than everyone else’s.
The Horny Roach Investigation
This still left one important question unresolved.
FFW was in heat, which meant she was roaming the house in full horny-roach formation, rubbing against anything with mass and behaving as though consent were a bureaucratic suggestion.
If Milton had been living in that bathroom all this time, had FFW known about him? Was she able to see him? Had she been assisting him? More importantly, had she expanded her campaign of unwanted affection into the spiritual realm?
Do you also molest Milton when you’re a horny roach?
FFW looked at me and slowly closed her eyes.
That was not a denial.
By household investigative standards, it was practically a confession.
She may be Milton’s co-conspirator. He handles the unexplained bathroom activity. She removes the physical evidence from the trash and distributes it through the hallway. Together, they maintain plausible deniability while making the rest of us question every sound in the house.
Both of them are fake.
Paranormal Human Resources
Big Bertha by day. Haunted chicken breast by night. Horny roach by heat cycle. Paranormal workplace predator by allegation.
FFW now has more job titles than anybody in the household and not one of them includes taking accountability.
Milton has an office, seniority, and a suspected accomplice. What he does not have is supervision, measurable deliverables, or a clearly defined reporting structure.
This is how organizations fail.
Effective immediately, bathroom operations will follow a new policy: if the light is on and the door is closed, knock before entering.
Milton may be in a meeting.
FFW may be violating the employee handbook.
And Earl is somewhere else, haunting a shed and minding his fucking business.
✨ BALANCE ✨
-EC 🌈
Leave a comment