5
Dean spit out a mouthful of styrofoam. He lay sprawled in a pile of crushed boxes, bruised more in pride than anywhere else. "Woah, what's this guy running on?"
Sam stood a few feet away, eyes searching for any kind of movement. He -unlike Dean- still held his shotgun, though the salt rounds they'd been using weren't exactly effective. "I dunno. He's gotta have a lot of rage fueling him at this pace. Kinda like shooting one of those carnival games, though."
"Still, thought tonight we'd be getting Casper. Instead we ended up meeting the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man."
Sam gave Dean a quick smile. "Maybe he's still angry over his union dues." A fast-moving piece of cardboard collided with Sam's face, knocking him over. Dean was laughing so hard, he almost missed dodging the missile aimed at his own head.
"Why must all who cross my path insult me? Foolish mortals! You've insulted myself and my fellow ghost kind for the last time."
"Oh we haven't even gotten started," replied Dean. Sam fired off a round towards the floating man in overalls. Dean had found his glock stuck underneath a nearby box and was now shot putting a few rounds into his own weapon. "You're a box ghost who's special move is throwing boxes. That, well, that just writes itself."
More barrages of cardboard. Sam and Dean took cover behind a weight bearing column. Both were breathing heavily. "But really, Dean," Sam hissed. "We've no idea what's tying him to this world. And he's not-" a crate slammed against their temporary blockade,"-he's not exactly in the mood to tell us. How do we finish this guy off?"
There was a fizz in the air and both men ducked. Two lime green bolts of light shot past them, knocking their assailant into the far wall. Then they heard a voice behind them. "Well usually I just fire lasers until he get's bored."
