It's 2:30 in the morning. I'm contemplating putting on my pajamas when there is a knock on my door.
Nobody ever knocks on my door past midnight, so I yell "Who is it?" It's The Fonz. I open the door. He's holding an iPod and looking slightly distressed.
The Fonz: This iPod was laying in the kitchen, is it yours?
Me: No, it might be So-And-So's.
The Fonz: Okay. Sorry to bother you. I just didn't want to leave something like this in the kitchen tonight because I saw some guy walking down the hallway just now and I think he is the ghost of Fonzie.
The Fonz: Yeah, he looked like Fonzie. I think he was a ghost. He had a black t-shirt, hair that went like this... *makes hand motions*
Me: Are you just saying this because we had an hour long conversation about ghosts tonight?
The Fonz: No, no, The Poet saw him too. He thinks it might be a real person but I think it's the ghost of Fonzie.
Me: Did you talk to him?
The Fonz: No, I just saw him. And he looked like Fonzie. Anyway, sorry to bother you. Goodnight, Sweater.
Me: Goodnight, Fonz.
I close the door and wonder how fictional television characters can become ghosts.
I triple-check that the door is locked and go to bed.