Before the news came on, Charley heard someone at his front door. He just started to get up, then he heard a key in the lock, and the door swing open. He heard the voice of his daughter, and she sounded sad. "I'm in here!" Charley shouted. No one answered his call. He could hear his daughter talking to her husband about getting rid of stuff. Getting rid of stuff? What was she talking about? Charley jacked his recliner into the upright position, and hoisted himself to his feet. With his normal shuffling gate he went into the kitchen.
His daughter, Irene, standing with her back to him was holding wide his cupboard door. Her voice directed toward her husband, she said, "My God, Bob. Look at the crap dad's been eating; over sweetened cereal, and six or eight bags of chips. There is noting healthy in here."
Charley smiled, "Well, hello to you too," he said.
"Nothing healthy in here either," Bob said, his head in the refrigerator.
With a chuckle, Charley said, "Hey, don't you have anything to eat at your house?"
Neither his daughter or her husband responded. "Are you two mad at me, or something?" Still no response.
It was then that Charley reached out for Irene's shoulder---- and his hand went right through it. Charley was stunned. He reached out with both hands, but it was like swatting at air. Oh my God! he thought, she's dead! This is her ghost. And if she's talking to Bob, he must be dead too. Charley sank down on a kitchen chair and watched as the ghosts of his daughter and her husband went through his cupboards, emptying them of all eatable items.
Then the second thought lit up his mind. They are not dead, I am.