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As the moonlight shone weakly into his office, Jack Donaghy heaved a sigh of satisfaction, clasped his glass of scotch and eased back into his chair.
Life was good.
When the room suddenly went black he wasn't too fazed, more annoyed if anything as he took another sip of his drink. "Jonathon!" he called out.
He expected his eager secretary to come dashing through the wooden doors and was ill prepared for when a figure materialised before him as if they had literally come through the door.
"Wow, this is powerful stuff!" he said to himself, looking down at his drink.
Looking up, he found the 'ghost' was now in front of his desk and he recognised the female. "Colleen?" he exclaimed, dropping his glass. The liquid staining the carpet was the last thing on his mind though as he looked at his transparent mother.
"You're going to be visited by three visions tonight," the monotone voice began. "May they lead to your path of transformation."
"No, seriously," Jack laughed, just bordering on hysteria. "You're making me Ebenezer Scrooge? Who's Tiny Tim?"
"Stop interrupting me Jackie," the ghost snapped, and he could have sworn his mother was right there. "You're going for a ride tonight, so buckle up, pay attention, and for god's sake, may something good come of it."
She was gone and the lights came back on instantly. Momentarily blinded, he shook his head as he chuckled to himself. He really needed to think about basing future ghosts on a much more likable form in the future. Angelina Jolie perhaps.
Reaching for tissues, he began to dab at the floor when the lights suddenly began flickering...
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