Finally, after at least an hour of floating in the goo, the flow led us to a place where we could get out the muck and get back into the city. We were soaked in the slime.

Ray climbed through the manhole in the street, followed by Winston. "Nice going, Ray," he grumbled. "What were trying to do, drown me?"

"Oh yeah, Zeddemore. Like it was my fault that you were stupid enough to fall in!" Ray snapped back.

"Hey! That was her fault!" Winston pointed at me.

"I was possessed, you idiot!" I snarled back. "And don't forget, I jumped in to save your sorry ass!"

Even though I was pissed off, I couldn't help but wonder: Why were we acting like this?

Egon cut into our little gripe-fest. "Would you boneheads knock it off?"

That's what snapped me back to reality. Egon never had a mean word to say toward anyone.

Something was making us act this way. But what?

"'Boneheads?' Hey, you better watch your mouth or I'll punch your lights out!" threatened Winston.

"Go ahead," jeered Ray. "You can't do anything, you slimeball!"

I gasped in realization. "That's it: Slime! Kiss me, Ray!"

I grabbed the front of his raincoat and planted a big one on him.

Ray stood there, frozen with shock. Slowly, a goofy grin spread across his face and he began to giggle.

Egon and Winston stood there, staring at us in astonishment. Suddenly, Egon's eyes widened in comprehension. "Get those clothes off right now!" he shouted at Winston. He started pulling off his jacket.

"Huh?" said Winston.

"Just do it!" I screeched, tugging off my own coat. Winston shrugged and began to take off his over garments. Then the three of us had to snap Ray out of it and get him to do the same.

After the disrobing, I was standing there in a tank and yoga pants (freezing my butt off in the process), Ray and Egon were garbed in their matching long grey underwear, and Winston was donning some outrageous red long-johns. "Oh God, Ray," he said breathlessly. "What were we doing? I was ready to kill you, man."

"It's the slime," I said. "It was affecting our personalities."

"It's like pure concentrated evil," gasped Ray.

Egon looked up at the building we had surfaced in front of. "All it's flowing right to this spot."

I turned to look too, but I probably could have guessed: The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

The Ecto-1 pulled up in front of a ritzy, classy looking eating establishment. "Is this it?" I asked.

"Yeah, Peter said Armand's," replied Ray.

We hopped out and marched into the restaurant. "We're just looking," I shot at the maitre d'. He stared at the four of us in basically our underwear, dripping with God knows what.

We tromped through the place, looking for our compatriot. We spotted him sitting with Dana at a table near the center of the room, looking all cozy and romantic. "Venkman!" we started shouting. "Venkman!"

Peter's head, along with all the other heads in the room, turned to look at us. His face paled. "Oh, please tell me this is a bad dream," he groaned.

We rushed over to the two of them. "It was absolutely incredible!" cried Ray. "The greatest tangible evidence of psychic energy in 100 years!"

The manager had joined our little group of nuts and was yelling at us to get out. "This is an emergency, one second," I said, as Ray, Egon, and Winston continued to jabber excitedly about our experience in the tunnel.

"Boys! Boys!" Peter cut in. "You're scaring the straights, okay? Is there anyway we could do this tomorrow?"

"No, no, this won't wait until tomorrow, Venkman!" exclaimed Egon. "It's hot and it's ready to pop!"

"It's all over the city!" said Ray.

"Under it, actually," I added.

"Rivers of the stuff!" Winston declared.

"Yes, and it's all flowing right to the museum," Egon stated.

"Yeah, the museum!" Ray emphatically flailed his arm in gesture, slinging slime on the diners. "Oh. Sorry."

Dana gasped. "Oh, God! You mean, my museum?"

"I was gonna tell you between the dessert and the cheese course," said Peter sheepishly. "You can never go back there again. You're gonna have to find a new job-"

"There they are!" shouted the manager. He had left and we hadn't noticed. But now he was back, and with him he had brought the cops.

"Aw, crap," I groaned.