Eulogy for a Buster
The sounds of utter silence filled the air. No birds sang, and the city seemed quiet for once. The sunlight was dull, but the sky was free of rainclouds.
Privately, Peter Venkman had wished it had rained, despite his hatred of wet weather.
Running a hand through the hair that was stubbornly fighting gray despite his advanced age, he glanced over at the small congregation surrounding the gravesite.
Ray Stantz, usually the chipper one, was absolutely dour. Winston Zeddemore seemed to be the only one paying much attention to the priest, no doubt trying to distract himself somehow. Slimer bobbed in the air, greenish tears hitting the ground.
And Janine…poor Janine. She looked like death, which considering their profession, was saying something. She had barely spoken for several days. She just kept sobbing.
The service was nice, Peter admitted. Everyone had paid their respects, but it was decided that only those four (and the spud) would accompany the casket to its final resting place.
After all, the Ghostbusters had been all he had left.
Peter cast a wary eye to the tombstone, and wished he hadn't. The text upon it blazed like the eyes of Gozer, and seemed to seal the deal.
This was real. This was actually happening.
Egon Spengler was gone.
How many years had it been since they started this? How long had the Ghostbusters been around? Peter honestly lost track some days. They had been doing this for so long that it was getting harder and harder to imagine life before it. But through it all, they had been there.
They had led the charge. They had started everything. They had watched as their brainchild grew beyond their expectations. And despite their age, despite the bad backs or weary limbs or orthopedic shoes (not on Peter, thank goodness), the four of them had been in the thick of it.
And now, their tall guy, their brain, the source of all the amazing things they could use to do their good work, was gone.
Peter still remembered their first outing as Ghostbusters, like it was yesterday. At look over at Slimer told him that the ghost was remembering it too.
"There's something very important I forgot to tell you."
"What?"
"Don't cross the streams."
"Why?"
"It would be bad."
"I'm fuzzy on the whole good/bad thing. What do you mean, bad?"
"Try to imagine all life as you know it stopping instantaneously and every molecule in your body exploding at the speed of light."
"Woah!" Ray shouted, "Total protonic reversal."
"Right. That's bad," Peter summarized, "Okay. All right. Important safety tip. Thanks, Egon."
Peter fought back a chuckle. Turned out, Egon had a real gift of understatement, given what it did to Gozer.
Ray looked over at him. Their eyes met, and they shared a silent conversation.
Remember when…
Of course Peter remembered.
The proton packs, cool from such long neglect, still gave a hum like they had on day one.
Peter smiled, suddenly whimsical.
"Do," he sang.
"Re," Ray continued.
"Egon!"
The other two looked at him, but Egon would only smirk.
And the battle that followed was quick, as if time had not softened their reflexes or skills. And finally:
"Two in the box!"
"Ready to go!"
"We be fast…"
"And they be slow!"
Such times…
The priest had stopped now, and the grave keepers were ready to lower the casket. Winston gave a nod to the men, then turned his attention to the grave.
The group stayed there, long after the dirt had finished piling up and the keepers had left. Winston looked to Peter, and they two remembered.
"You're not sleeping with it, are you Ray?"
Ray shook his head, but Egon looked between them and the jar of slime hesitantly. Awkward silence descended on them.
"It's always the quiet ones," Winston mused.
"You hound," Peter accused.
They had all decided not to tell Janine about that, Peter recalled as Winston led the weeping woman away. She just couldn't take it. Slimer paused only a moment, placing a small but slimy kiss upon the headstone as a good-bye before following.
"So what's going to happen now?" asked Ray.
"We keep going," Peter answered defiantly, "He would have wanted it that way. He never stopped, right until the end. We found him in his lab, remember?"
"Seems like only yesterday he was talking about a new upgrade to the proton packs," Ray chuckled, "What a workaholic."
"Where it counts, I don't think we're any different."
Ray hummed in thought, observing the grave marker for a moment.
"It's just hard to believe he's gone," Ray said.
"Maybe we'll see him out there, stopping badder ghosts like he always did. Who knows? But we gotta keep going. We've faced down the end of the world. This is nothing. Especially since he wouldn't have wanted us to quit."
"Yeah…you're right."
"Of course I'm right," said Peter, throwing his arm around his friend, "Now let's keep up the good work. Let's keep going. Let's head down to the usual place and call a toast to Egon Spengler, smartest guy in the world."
"Throw in some Twinkies with the toast and you have a deal. He would have liked that."
"Damn right he would."
And as they walked off, leaving the grave and walking towards a future that they refused to see as darker despite the loss of their friend, they nonetheless remembered the past.
Spotting the tall man beneath the table with a stethoscope, Peter decided to have a little fun.
"Egoooooon. EEEEEGOOOOOOON!"
He thumped the table a bit before dropping a large dictionary on it, startling the scientist.
"Oh, you're here," Egon said, jumping up.
"Yeah, what do ya got?"
"This is big, Peter, this is very big," Egon replied, clearly much more excited than Peter, "There is definitely something here."
"Egon…this reminds me of the time you tried to drill a hole through your head, remember that?"
"That would have worked if you hadn't stopped me."
Then the head librarian approached them, and Egon began to smile a bit. As the man led them over to the woman who had the paranormal encounter, Peter could just hear Egon whisper to Ray.
"Greatness calls."
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In Memory Of
Harold Ramis
1944 – 2014
Busting made him feel good.