"Well..." Carl's companion said in a slow voice. "You seem to have made a decision. In fact, you seem to be into this idea of revenge rather strongly. It's almost like you believe in revenge as an afterlife. So, I am not going to leave you quite so suddenly."
"Why not?" asked Carl. "Now that I'm a ghost, I can chose what to do with myself, right?"
"Well not exactly. Here's the rule book." The ghostly shroud somehow puked up a giant leather bound book, and it landed with a thud of dust on the dry ground.
Carl raised a supernatural eyebrow. "Right. I have to read that?"
"Yes. And now, I will leave you to it and get on with the other four thousand undecided people who've kicked the bucket since your moment of fame first began."
Carl nodded and watched the cloud disappear. "Finally," he said. "The afterlife has truly begun..." He looked from side to side. He scuffed his toe in the dirt if that was at all possible. Then he said, "Right. How do I go about this whole revenge thing? I'm not a bloody detective. How am I supposed to find those blasted people?"
An hour later, Carl was sitting in a cafe with a cup of coffee reading the newspaper. For some reason, the service was really bad. And try as he may, he just couldn't make any connection with the coffee. In fact, the newspaper was the only useful object around.
Currently, he was reading the comics.
And after he'd done that, he doodled for a minute on the Casper strip. Then he checked his nonexistent watch. Then he sighed. Why didn't the newspaper update itself? Then maybe he'd get some pictures from the scene of the crime.
He was discovering that being a ghost was all rather boring. Maybe if he got some attention it would be better...