I’d Know if This Place Was Haunted

Seriously there are no ghosts in this house. I know you’re calling the producers claiming ghosts just to be on TV. That woman standing in the doorway was from a dream because you had too much chocolate before bed and anyway don’t you think it’s suspicious she was holding a candy bar and not like, a knife or something? I won’t do this with you. I won’t be party to this scam. Besides, I’d know if this place was haunted. Don’t forget, this is my family’s house. I used to play in the attic when I was little. That is, until they locked it off because they found the wasp nest up there. The little girl you thought you saw in the dormer there was just an old pile of pillows carelessly thrown on that antique rocking horse. You thought it moved when you turned off the light, but that was just your eyes playing tricks. So, trust me when I say I’d know if it was haunted. I’ve been here over two hundred years, after all. 
 

All I Want is Paul Rudd to Play Chess with Me

I don’t know how to play chess well, but I know how the pieces move. We’ll sit across from each other, and he’ll be forced to look at me, because the chess board is fucking boring. We’ll talk about horses because that’s one of the pieces and I know the conversation will come naturally. I’m sure he’s ridden a horse in one of his movies. He’s an actor after all. I’ll ask him what his favorite horse is, and he’ll answer that his favorite horse is me. And we’ll laugh because I’m not a horse, but I do carry a lot of weight around, which makes me so sad that I cry, right in front of Paul Rudd. And he’ll see this and because he’s an actor and accustomed to emotion, he’ll pat me on the head, like I’m a horse. And it will be like the universe has reached out and told me that crying is healthy. But Paul Rudd will not say that. Instead, he’ll glance at the chessboard, and then at me with his caring, beautiful eyes and say, “Are you going to play or are we just going to sit here like fucking idiots?”