The Missing Ouija Board

The Missing Ouija Board An Unholy Whodunnit in Verse I summoned ghosts at midnight’s glare, At Cemetery Gate—with snacks to spare. We were just spelling “B-U-R-I-E-D” when—Zap! The Ouija Board vanished... like a ghost on a gap. Who stole my Ouija Board from cemetery?! Was it the undead... or Karen from seminary? I turned my back to fix my cape, Returned—it was GONE. This is supernatural escape! So I stormed to the church, all holy and bold, Parked the board by a pew that smelled old. Then nature called—I ran, I peed… Came back—now it’s stolen! AGAIN? I screamed. Someone stole my Ouija Board from the church, too… Who knew holy haunts could act so cuckoo? Maybe a nun with a taste for the bizarre, Or a choir boy moonlighting as a spirit czar. Do they even know how haunted these boards are? They contain bad spelling and spectral memoirs. Great-Aunt Ethel lives in that wood grain— She once haunted a blender just for champagne. Now my spirits are homeless, ghostly and grumpy, One tried haunting a squirrel—got too jumpy. The board’s gone rogue, possibly cursed, Spotted at brunch with demons well-versed. So beware if it knocks or begins to slide— It also screams compliments, just to misguide. Return it fast, don’t play coy, Or it’ll whisper your tax secrets to the pizza boy.