stykera | MHA #8, Saturday all day

Stark had woken up this morning to the sounds of singing. This was unusual. His apartment was usually fairly quiet. The singing had not subsided and after a few moments he had located its source. The raccoons were on his balcony. And the raccoons on his balcony were singing. With words. That was new. They usually tried not to draw attention to themselves and only rarely would he catch a glimpse of one scurrying away. They had certainly never sung to him before and he hadn't realized they could talk. Or sing. Or compose songs about him. And the song was certainly about and directed at Stark. The singing had lasted quite a while and when they finally gave up they had left several bottles behind on the balcony.

They had left bottles of beer behind before. Today there were bottles of what seemed to be craft root and ginger beers rather than the usual sort.

Then it got dark and a new set of songs started up. Stark was beginning to regret staying in today. Moreso when he found the source of the new song.

"But why have you come out to socialize?" he asked the ghosts.

They didn't answer. They just kept singing.

"Do you need help? Are you trapped here?"

Still, the singing continued.

Stark would evidently not be getting much sleep this weekend.

[I couldn't resist. Can be open despite the lateness of the hour, I suppose. He'll be out and about tomorrow though.]