Oscar Tweed: A String of Novelettes

Novelette 2: The Perfect Cup of Earl Grey Part 1

Oscar Tweed

Novelette 2: The Perfect Cup of Earl Grey

The most challenging part of being a ghost is getting noticed by the living. They simply ignore you, unless you’re clever. You must practice, practice, practice. I am an experienced butler, perfection has always been my aim, so it was expected that I would one day become a model ghost butler. The problem remained that I didn’t know any other ghost butlers after which to pattern myself. Sadly, I hadn’t even met another ghost at all. The only eyes I knew that could see me in my current form was my employer, Oscar Tweed. He understood much about the spirit world, but he wasn’t a pleasant teacher and, at times, downright nasty.

I hovered above Oscar Tweed as he buried his nose deeper into a book. Every ten seconds or so, he looked up to me and snorted. A notion sprang to mind that he didn’t want me there looming above him in his study. Yet, oh what a charming study! Bizarre artifacts filled the wooden shelves - tiny globes, spinning metal devices to represent the stars, little telescopes, and framed insects. He also kept all of his ancient books on spirtualism, demonism, and all manner of spookiness in the study. Even as a ghost, or as one might say a ‘creature of the night’, I remained frightened of these books, but I realized that they did have a purpose.

Tweed, quite fed up with my presence, said, “Crutchley! I paid good money for you and I haven’t even heard so much as a whisper from those thin lips of yours. You just hover.”

I tried to respond, I mouthed the words, but nothing came out. I shrugged then nodded.

Tweed looked away in thought, furrowing his brow. “We need stimulus. Something to convince you to speak. It may not be pleasant.”

His devilish smile burned into me. Tweed would go to quite an extent to get what he wanted. Just an hour after my death, Tweed threatened me with the fires of Hell -- quite literally. His style proved overall effective, but very harsh.

“I’ll summon you when I’m ready. Don’t worry Crutchley, we’ll have you talking soon enough.” He shooed me away and went back to his book.

A few days ago, I had made dynamic strides toward model ghost butlership by training the tip of my finger to move the lightest of objects. I gave full credit to my precious book: Muffin’s Guide to Butlership and Service, or the MGBS for short. The book contained no advice on manipulating objects as a ghost, no not at all. It did contain, however, words on loyalty and perseverance. Proudly, I had studied the book every day since I first received it, being a ghost couldn’t stop me.

Before my death, I left the MGBS open atop the dresser as a preacher would his bible just before a sermon, luckily the staff left it untouched. Two evenings later, as a ghost, I hovered over the open book determined. I traced my finger over a passage about dental care, specifically, “Brush the denture before placing into your own, or another’s mouth.” I remember the passage verbatim because on that evening I read it over a thousand times, each time tracing my finger over the text. At approximately the twelve-hundredth attempt I heard a scratch. A few more hundred times, the page buckled. I scratched that page until it flipped to the next. I floated there victorious! The MGBS could not fail in life or in death!

I found another fantastic use for my page turning finger--mapmaking! It is an essential part of a butler’s job that he know his house from top to bottom. I needed to complete my map of Tweed Manor. I realized that my finger couldn’t move anything heavier than a piece of paper, certainly not a pen. Luckily, I found a dusty spot under a neglected green couch in the parlor room. I used the dusty floor to make my map, drawing walls in the dust with my finger. I had mapped nearly half of the massive manor and hoped to be finished soon. Daily tasks kept me sane by making me feel somewhat normal.