3WW: Ghost story

Here’s a tale that’s quite unique
Never have you heard this freak
An adventure strange and weird
Dreadful exploits to be feared

Typically began the day
On a morning wet and gray
When at dawn I lurched downstairs
For a new day to prepare

Stepping through the kitchen door
What a chilling scene I saw
Just beside the breakfast bar
Sat a creature so bizarre

Quite transparent, freezing cold
Odours of decay and mould
Yes, a phantom rested there
Sitting in my kitchen chair

Frantically, my heart beat loud
Here’s a spectre in a shroud!
Why’s it here, and apropos
How do I get it to go?

I tried not to swoon or shriek
As that ghoul began to speak
It perused my cupboard shelf
Muttering unto itself:

“Peanut butter, chocolate spread
What should I put on my bread?
Bramble jelly, lemon curd
So much choice is quite absurd”

Clearly, I had gone insane
Seeing apparitions plain.
In the early morning gloom
Common sense had left the room

“Sir, excuse me please,” I said,
“Won’t you tell me, aren’t you dead?
Why are you (at my expense)
Eating in my residence?”

“Don’t mind me,” replied the ghost,
“I’m just here as I need toast
And if you hoard all the bread
I’ll feast on your flesh instead.”

“But why toast,” I tried once more,
Wanting occult to explore,
“And why me, why my abode,
Why this city, why this road?”

“Look, shut up,” it screamed at me,
“Some things mortals should not see.
If you ask me any more
Well then, I’ll eat you for sure.”

Then I really did pass out
Terrified beyond all doubt
Waking, it had left my den
Never to be seen again

The words are frantic, lurch and odour (ignoring the peculiar American obsession with avoiding the letter “u”)