I start wheezing with laughter. I put my fingers over my eyes and then take them away. The skeleton is still there. I put my hand on the car handle and turn it, and now I'm out of the car, and now I'm jogging away. I turn around. The skeleton is jogging after me. That's weird, I know skeletons can't run, well, not without muscles. That's something you get taught in primary school, along with 2 is an even number and you shouldn't squeeze hamsters.
"Miss Oakes, please stop. I give you my most serious word I wont harm you. Ill even swear on the bible." the skeleton calls after me, even though it doesnt appear to have vocal cords.
It pauses and adds " I don't actually have a bible with me, but its the thought that counts."
I stop and turn.
"Yep." I whisper "The skeleton is still there."
"My dear Miss Oakes, I like to think I am more than just 'the skeleton'. I am a bona fida gentleman, imbued with the charisma and wit of an 18th century French count."
"Yes but you are a skeleton. Like that is probably the key fact about yourself."
"I would much rather it be my surprising, yet inevitably phenomenal skill at woodcarving, but yes. I am a skeleton."
The skeleton slowly walks up to me, and gingerly places a bony hand on my shoulder, and begins to pat me.
"There there." It mumbles
I stare at it.
It removes its hand.
"I do apologise, I'm just never sure what to do when I reveal myself to time, on a particularly rough night I simply shouted "Yes. I am a skeleton" them. You know, tough love."
The trees around us sway softly in the night breeze, and I stare up into their darkened branches and take a deep breath.
"Okay. I think I'm okay..."
I look at him.
"...Mr. Pleasant."
He smacks his hands together and even though his skull is forever held in a permanent grin, the smile somehow gets deeper.
"Splendid."
