It was a quiet Friday afternoon. Jonathan was lounging on the couch, about to give-up on watching TV because Sock was sitting on it and turning all the channels to snow. Kate popped in. "Sock!" she said excitedly.
The demon turned to face her. "What is it?"
Jonathan looked up, but the only person he could see was Sock. "Are you talking to yourself again?"
"No, I'm talking to Kate."
"Your imaginary girlfriend?" Jonathan teased.
"She's my very real … ghost friend," Sock retorted.
"Yeah, and if you can't see me, that's your loss," Kate added, hovering inches from Jonathan's face.
"So, what brings you by?" Sock asked.
"I was wondering if you had plans for this evening," Kate said.
"Do I have plans for this evening?" Sock repeated.
"Yes, you do," said Jonathan. "They involve staying the hell away from me while I'm on my date."
"With Nancy?" Sock asked.
Jonathan groaned. "With Lil. Why can't you call her Lil?"
"Same reason I'm gonna stay the hell away from you on your date."
"Jojo," said Kate. "It's Jojo, right?"
Sock floated off the TV and over to a corner to talk with Kate. The TV snow ended and Jonathan began surfing for something to watch.
"I'd like to take you to a show at the community theater," Kate told Sock. "It's a musical. Usually, Fergus accompanies me, but I thought this show would be right up your alley. Wanna go?"
"What's the show?" Sock asked.
"Sweeny Todd," Kate beamed.
"Never heard of it."
"You have never heard of Sweeny Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street?" Kate was surprised.
"Nope."
"Oh, then you gotta see it! I'll meet you in my room at 6:30." She started to vanish, then quickly reappeared. "Dress nice," she told him. Then she was gone.
Sock arrived at the home-office down the hall at 6:40. Mr. Combs was sitting at the desk, completely oblivious to either spirit or demon. Amelia Kate smiled when Sock floated through the door. She was not bothered by his lack of punctuality, nor the fact that he was wearing the same clothes he always wore.
Sock was taken aback by how different Kate appeared. Gone were her paint spattered sweatshirt and wide leg jeans. Instead, she wore a navy blue dress and a flowy grey cardigan. "Wow," Sock said. "You look pretty."
"Thanks," said Kate. "I wish I could say the same to you."
"How did you do that? Change clothes, I mean."
"Oh, I had a proper funeral. This is what I wore at my wake. I'm a lucky ghost; I get two outfits… plus mix-and-match options."
Sock looked down at his bizarre composition of attire. "I think I'm stuck with just this. Sorry I can't dress nicer."
"I thought you said you were a demon."
"I am. So what?"
"So, demons aren't stuck following ghost rules. Let me try something. Take off your skirt."
"Excuse me?"
"Just go with me on this, take off your skirt." Sock wiggled the lavender skirt off his hips and let it fall to the floor.
"Hold it above your head," Kate directed. Sock shrugged, picked up the skirt and held it high above his head. Kate took a deep breath in, bit her lip in concentration, then tugged on the hem of the skirt. The skirt grew longer, as if Kate were pulling down a window shade. Soon, all that could be seen of Sock was his hands at the top and his boots below the hem of a lavender curtain.
"Now give it a swish," Kate instructed.
"Like this?" Sock moved his hands, the curtain swayed then rapidly shrunk and reverted to the lavender skirt.
Kate clapped her hands delightedly. "I am an ameliorator!"
Sock sailed out of the bedroom to the bathroom. He hovered horizontally in front of the large mirror over the double sink, so he could see himself head to toe. He admired his modified wardrobe. His coral scarf had turned into a classic tie, his faded t-shirt and sweater vest had become a pale blue button up with yellow details. His jeans were dark and without holes. His hat remained un-changed. He slung his lavender skirt casually over his shoulder.
"When you look that good, I can't bring myself to call you Sock," Kate told him.
"Call me Maxwell, my dear Amelia."
Amelia Kate smiled. "Shall we go watch people get murdered while other people sing about it?"
"Is that what Sweeny Todd is about?"
"And uninformed cannibalism."
"You're the best friend ever."
When intermission came, Sock could not stop praising the show. He began to sing snippets of the songs. "We all deserve to die! Even you, Mrs. Lovett, even I. Because the lives of the wicked should be made brief; for the rest of us death will be a relief. We all deserve to die..."
"Do you agree with that?" Kate interrupted Sock's singing.
"Deserving to die? I dunno," Sock shrugged.
Kate spoke quickly, "Is Jonathan the only one you can haunt? Could you haunt someone else if you wanted?"
"Actually, my job description did change recently. Why do you ask?"
"What did it change to?"
"Uh…Six suicides a year, I choose the people." Sock tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. "Is there someone you'd like to recommend?"
Kate fiddled with her hands. "Maybe… I'm not sure. Intermission is almost over. We'll talk about it after the show."
"No, no. Don't back out now. Tell me who's on your kill list."
"One person. I don't have a kill list. The show-"
"They're performing more than one night. We can see the second half some other time. Right now you're going to introduce me to my next victim."
Sock and Kate stood in a small hospital room. An overweight, old man was propped up in the bed, reading over documents. The rolling desk was littered with papers, envelopes deftly torn by a letter opener, pencils, highlighters, and red and blue pens.
"So, this is the infamous Ex-Uncle Jeff," said Sock.
"Yes," confirmed Kate. "He doesn't run the company anymore, but he's still technically on the board."
"Well, I don't see why you need me. The guy looks like he's on his way out already."
"It's what he plans to do before he dies that irks me."
Sock raised his eyebrows. Kate explained, "He's changing his will."
A red-headed woman with a sharp chin walked through the two spirits and greeted the old man with a quick kiss. Kate grimaced. "That's Connie – at least that's what I call her, the woman who convinced him to change his will."
"What's wrong with changing a will?"
"Because if anyone deserves to inherit a small fortune from an estranged relative, it's my siblings and my cousins. She's convinced Ex-Uncle Jeff that she's the only one who loves him and that he should leave his wealth to her."
The old man began coughing and the various machines in the room beeped.
"Not yet, sweetheart, not yet!" the red-haired woman murmured.
"Augh, I'm sick of this shit," the old man bellowed. "Why can't this stupid heart just give out already?" He leaned back on the pillows. "Tomorrow," he said. "You promise! Tomorrow."
"Yes, dear," Connie said as she smoothed his grey hair off his forehead. She rolled the desk to the foot of the bed and helped the old man prepare for sleep.
"Fish-sticks!" Kate cursed. "I didn't think they'd be ready by tomorrow."
"What's tomorrow?" Sock asked.
"I call her Connie because she is a con-artist. He thinks she loves him, but, she's really dating some notary. So, tomorrow, she's agreed to help Jeff commit suicide right after he signs the changes to his will."
"And what do you expect me to do?"
"Expose Connie for the fraud that she is! Expose her before he signs the papers. When Ex-Uncle Jeff realizes that the love-of-his-life is a fake, he will be so distraught that he will give himself a fatal overdose without her help. Then, some deserving young people will be able to pay off their student loans."
Sock bit his lower lip.
"I'm sorry it is so last minute! I wish there was more time to help you plan."
Before Kate had finished her sentence, Sock was handing his cap to her. "Fix it. Angel of death fedora."
The ameliorator did her best. She shook the cap by the ear-flaps until she was holding the brim of a blood red fedora. Sock straightened his tie. He grinned and said, "Let's hope this works! Go find some strong pills."
He popped to the center of the room, and called out, "You're time has come!"
The old man sat bolt upright in bed and the red-headed woman looked up in amazement.
"Don't give him a heart attack!" Amelia Kate warned. Sock narrowed his eyes at her. She hurried off to find the drugs.
When Kate came back to the room, she found Sock floating above two dead bodies and blood stained bed-sheets. A bloody letter-opener fell out of Ex-Uncle Jeff's hand and clattered on the floor.
Sock spread his hands. "Well, the bad news is he didn't react quite like you predicted. The good news is that murder-suicide is still suicide, so quota met!"
