Matt Makes a Friend Who Has an Aversion to Ornithological Feces

Your friendly neighborhood Mattness here.

Slow news day, but I went to the John Ross House just to chill with the ducks. 
 
There was a dude in the house, past the chains, and he was kinda grumbling around and generally having a cranky moment.
 
I wanted to give him some time and space (and more importantly, escape line of sight in the event he saw me). I found the historical marker plaque and in the interest of minding my own business, dear reader, off in that direction I did hastily and respectfully fuck. Nothing like a little learning and some ducks.
 
I read the plaque, saw the photo of John Ross, and immediately realized who the fogey in the house was. But he wasn't like most apparitions I've witnessed around here; he was just, *there,* slacks and a black blazer with a little bow tie. No spooky transparency or floating or any such nonsense. Just a dude who's long dead, who seems to be not dead anymore or something I haven't dealt with yet. Revenant, maybe?
I have lived here for too long to have not noticed that this dude haunts what is purportedly his former abode... but, well, here we are. I went back to the house. Maybe he's just confused.
 
"Mr. Ross," I started, "everything all right?"
 
Startled, he looked at me, then looked behind himself, presumably to check if there were another Mr. John Ross in the John Ross House.
 
"You can SEE ME?!"
 
"I imagine not everyone can, but yeah, I can see you. You're actually a lot more, uh..... defined, I guess, than most dead folks in my experience."
 
He took an apple out of his blazer pocket and rubbed it against his lapel. "Yeah, I don't know what the deal is either. Last person who could see me, or at least who I knew could see me, was 1977. Basically, no one's seen me since disco. Been here this whole time and it's lonely. Plus I got no damn idea what's going on. Hey, got any weed?"
 
So anyway, I'll be hanging out with my new buddy for a while. I'll ask him if he wants to go into the light or whatever the hell in his own time. He ain't hurting anybody. Just watching the ducks shit all over his house. If I can remember, I'll write down some of the stuff we talk about. So far, I learned that what he grumbled about back there was mostly just how annoyed he was at all the gooseshit. I'ma show him some Indigenous TikTok creators. Lemme know if you know of any good ones.
 
Later on if he's into it I'll bring a laptop and we'll watch Reservation Dogs.
 
Peace, y'all.

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