According to Orson and Calista I got, as the chapter title says, knocked the f**k out. I’m not sure if it hurt because I was knocked the f**k out, as previously mentioned. Twice, if you’re keeping count. Yes, I’m including the chapter title. Three times if you count me telling you I was knocked the f**k out as previously mentioned. Four if you count just now.

  The poltergeist knocked my ass out the back door, which was a big ole, fancy sliding glass one. Right through it like the brick in Home Alone 2 through the toy store window. Except, there were no burglars, I didn’t have a snarky note attached to me, and Kevin McCallister was played by a Mormon lady possessed by a poltergeist.

  I landed in the pool. Which is lucky, but also unlucky. Orson followed me and tried to figure out how to help, while Calista rushed to save a little girl and her dad from having their skin ripped off by the lady of the house.

  “Shit, he’s going to drown,” Orson said. “I need help.”

  “A little busy,” Calista said, grabbing the mom and throwing her back into the living room, where she landed at the base of the fireplace.

  Anyway, Calista ran to the girl and told her to go back up with her dad. Dad had come running down at that moment and locked eyes with Calista. Despite the dude clothes and the mustache, she said she could feel him beginning to lust over her. She said he looked confused, which is probably common when you first think, “Hey, do I like dudes now?” I have nothing against being gay, just saying that it was probably a flurry of mixed emotions for the guy, having his sexuality suddenly change or come into question. Especially when his church is telling him that being gay is wrong. Which it isn’t, because we’re all just meat, and sexuality is just chemicals in our brains telling us what gents we want to touch and who we want to touch ours. It’s an oversimplification, sure, but you get the point.

  “Shit!” Orson shouted.

  “What?” Calista asked, turning to him. Meanwhile, the mom was brushing herself off.

  “He’s just down there, at the bottom. He just sank!”

  “Get him out then,” Calista shouted while she marched over to meet the mom.

  “What is this? Who are you?” the dad asked.

  Calista turned to the dad. “And you! Your wife is possessed by evil. Go hide with your kids and let the professionals work!”

  That’s when mom tackled Calista. Dad ran upstairs after mom looked at him and said, “Think you can bury me, little man?! I’ll bite that tic-tac of yours clean off, then momma bird it into your mouth!”

  As Calista struggled to contain the mom, Orson decided to dive in—both into the pool and into me. Looking back, he realized he could have probably lifted me out of the pool, but he panicked. It felt weird for him, mostly because he forgot what feeling felt like, but thankfully he didn’t forget how to swim.

  Actually, he said he did forget how to swim, but once he was in my body, he was able to do all the things I could. He knew what I knew. It didn’t take him long to pilot my water-bloated body to the surface and onto the flagstone paving that surrounded the pool.

  “Okay, I’ve got her, I think,” Calista shouted. Orson couldn’t reply because I had water in my lungs, so he gave her a thumbs up. She said I was turning a gross pale blue. “Get that water out of his lungs, Orson!”

  She’d managed to knock out mom, momentarily, and was quick to get the salt from my bag and put a circle around her. It was good timing, because mom woke up right after Calista had finished. Orson couldn’t get the water out of my lungs, so Calista came to help.

  “Let him die,” the mom said. “All men are shit!”

  “Shut up,” Calista said as she kneeled beside me and administered CPR.

  I sat there, coughing up water.

  “You’re alive,” she said. “Just stay here, I’ll finish up with the poltergeist.”

  As she walked back inside, I turned to Orson. “How did I get out of the pool? Also, how did I get in the pool?”

  “That poltergeist knocked you through the door, and you landed in the water,” he said.

  “That explains why my back and head hurt so much. And Calista fished me out?”

  “Not quite,” Orson said. He turned away and looked at Calista, who was inside drawing a pentagram around the poltergeist with a bottle of ketchup.

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  The poltergeist sounded furious, but I suppose they all do. “Why should I be the only one who dies?!”

  Calista said nothing.

  “Orson, how did I get out of the pool?” I asked.

  “I sorta possessed your body and swam you out,” he replied, uncharacteristically sheepish about the whole thing. I think that maybe he thought I was going to be mad, but how could I be mad at the person who saved my life?

  “Bro, your first possession? I’m honored!”

  “Wait, really?” he asked.

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” I asked. “You saved my life, so, yeah.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you that I was in there?” He pointed to my head as he asked.

  “Oh, where you?” I laughed, then said, “I can’t imagine there is much in this wrinkly meatball of mine for me to keep secret.”

  Orson chuckled. “Yeah, it wasn’t terribly exciting.”

  Calista began to chant. I’m not even going to attempt to recite what I might have remembered possibly hearing. I don’t even think it was Latin. It sounded like nonsensical, breathy growls.

  I can only assume it was demon talk for, “Ay, get the f**k outta here.”

  “You can’t do this to me!” the poltergeist screamed as she pounded away at a circular wall that wasn’t there. The fireplace erupted.

  “I’ve spent years under that pool, and he gets to keep living his awful life?”

  “Please,” the poltergeist dropped to her knees and begged. “I was only trying to serve some long-overdue justice. Is that so wrong?”

  Calista stopped, then looked at her. “When you do it with someone else’s hands, in front of their kids, it is.”

  Then the flames reached out and wrapped around the mom. When they pulled back, they took the restless spirit with them.

  The fire snuffed itself out.

  I finally felt well enough to stand, so I joined Calista. The house was noticeably brighter. I pointed to her face.

  “Your mustache is coming off,” I said. “Also, great job.”

  She fixed her mustache and thanked me. Around that time, mom was coming too.

  “You can come out now!” I hollered at the ceiling. “It’s over!”

  It took a moment, but they all eventually came down. All of them. It was way too many people in one house.

  “What happened?” Mom asked. Then she looked around and saw ketchup and salt all over her floor. “What is this mess?”

  “Honey!” Dad said, running to his wife. He helped her off the ground.

  “It was a poltergeist,” I said. Then, pointing at mom, “You were possessed, and the Mormon priest guy couldn’t get the job done.”

  “I’m sorry, who are you?” the dad asked.

  “I’m Amir. I’m part of the ghost-hunting team?”

  “Did you just get here?”

  I let out a sigh, then turned to Calista. “I’m gonna wait in the car. Let me know how it goes.”

  “I’ll join you,” Orson said.

  Calista answered in her manliest voice, “Sure thing, Broseph Smith.”

  “Are you Mormon?” I heard dad ask as I walked toward the front door. I decided to wait in the foyer once I realized how hot it would be outside.

  “Uh, yeah,” Calista answered. “The Elders called us to help cleanse this house of evil.”

  “Well, tell them we said thank you,” dad replied.

  “I don’t remember a thing,” mom said. “Why is there a pagan symbol on my floor? Did I make this?”

  “Yes,” Calista said with all the confidence in the world. “While you were possessed. Anyway, there’s a small fee I just need to collect, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

  “Fee?” dad asked. “Of course, how much? Anything for the church.”

  “Right. Well, an exorcism like that? Hmm,” Calista thought for a bit, then said, “Five hundred.”

  “Is that all?” dad asked excitedly. “I’ll write you a check.”

  “Oh, no checks, please,” she replied. “This sort of service isn’t something we like to keep on the books, given the sensitive nature.”

  Damn, she was good.

  “Sure, that makes sense,” dad replied. “Let me go get that.” I saw him run past, then up the stairs. He didn’t even notice me.

  “I’m sorry,” mom said, “but this all seems a little odd. How do we know the church sent you? You don’t look like you work for the church.”

  “Ma’am,” Calista mansplained to mom, “I couldn’t expect you to understand. First, you were unconscious for the whole thing, and demonic possession often causes confusion. Second, it wouldn’t be proper to question the church’s authority or methods. And lastly, the Elders would like for this matter to remain between your husband, his family, and the church.”

  Mom hesitated, then answered in a meek voice, “Understood.”

  “So,” Orson said, turning to me, “Do you think he did it?”

  “Do I think who did what?” I asked. I wasn’t really paying attention because I was busy thinking about how bad my chest hurt and if I should see a doctor.

  “The dad. Do you think dad killed that woman? You know, the poltergeist. It sounded personal.”

  “Oh, most definitely,” I answered. “There’s one hundred percent a dead body under that pool.”

  Dad came back downstairs with a wad of cash.

  “Here,” dad said, “and again, pass along our gratitude to the Elders for their quick assistance.”

  “Of course,” Calista answered, “and as I told your wife, we’d prefer not to speak of such unholy things, so do not mention this again.”

  “Bryce, you can’t just give him that money. We don’t know anything about this man,” I heard mom say.

  “Sharon, this is none of your concern. You caused this trouble, and the least we can do is pay the man for his service.”

  “Bryce,” Calista cut in, “if I may.”

  Bryce and Calista walked over to the stairs. He looked like a lost puppy that finally found his forever home.

  “It is no business of mine how you manage your household, but I think you would do well to help your wife understand when it is and isn’t appropriate to question the church,” Calista said with a firm but soft voice.

  “I understand,” Bryce replied.

  The two of them shook hands, and Calista turned to me. We walked out together.

  “Can I hold that wad?” I asked as we walked down the driveway.

  “Sure,” Calista said, smiling as she handed it to me.

  One job and rent was paid. We probably would have been lucky to have gotten half that amount if Calista hadn’t come along. Hell, I would probably have died if Calista hadn’t come along.

  On the drive home, Calista pulled out her phone and made a call.

  “Hello? Yes, I’d like to report a dead body buried in a backyard.”

  He means to say genitals. He insists “gents” sounds classier.