Poltergeist at the Dream Hotel

Poltergeist at the Hotel.

Jorge Calvados de Edmund Fitzgerald leaned against the service entrance-wall of the Hôtel Place D'Armes smoking a vile black Ducados, careful not to get his coat dirty, and watched a box-van loaded with mattresses back-up to the loading dock.
Next to him by the swinging double-doors stood a bellhop in uniform. The name on the side of the van was Jersey Cryogenic Cleaners and the mattresses were bagged in plastic. It was the best way he knew to get rid of bed-bugs and ectoplasm.
As the hotel's Supernatural Detective he had a job to do, and this one involved reports from the Housekeeping staff that kept coming in, of a nasty infestation - a DSPP/Kvetch - a dominant sexual-predator poltergeist, with an ill temper.
Sure, sometimes the poltergeist stole from other Guests and left a $100 bill for the Maid, but more often than not he simply attacked them from behind, penetrating their clothing and grabbing at their breasts while saying, "Don' chu no whooo I yamm!?" and then made a stinking mess. Between the bedbugs and the ectoplasm, the cleanup-bill was getting out of hand and Management had authorized him to find a cure, by any means necessary.
Jorge took a puff on the Ducados in his left hand, and with his right reached into his coat pocket and pulled-out a folded piece of paper wrapped in purple ribbon. He flicked the bow aside with his thumb and let the ribbon fall to the cement. Unfolding the note he tilted his chin to read it. It was a series of instructions from a gypsy fortune teller down on 7th Avenue that detailed a personalized curse and incantation to rid the Hotel of the pest, and had cost the Hôtel Place D'Armes $10,000.
"Hey!" He called to the truck-driver, "That's close enough, stop!"
The van stopped and the bellhop moved forward pulling a luggage carrier.
"Where do you want this?" the bellhop asked.
"Right there, like that." he replied, "Do you have the tape?"
"Yes it's here." the bellhop said, and pulled from his uniform vest a small roll of silver duct-tape.
"Good." Jorge walked up and slid one of the plastic covered mattresses partially out of the van and onto the edge of the trolly. From his pants pocked pulled a small knife and flicked it open and passed it to his cigarette-hand, and from his coat pocket he pulled out a perfume atomizer. Inside the body of the atomizer a small amount of blue liquid sloshed silently back and forth. He leaned close to the mattress by the, "Do not remove under penalty of law," tag and made a little slit in the plastic.
Turning his hand to take a deep drag from the Ducados cigarette, he blew smoke into the plastic and with a single breath said, "I am Jorge Calvados," *puff* "de Edmund Fitzgerald," *puff* "and I have come to keel you!" *puff* - and then he quickly held the perfume bottle to the hole and squeezed the atomizer bulb, directing a short blast of expensive spray into the mattress, too.
"Tape it up!" he said to the bellhop, who tore a piece of duct-tape and laid it across the slit.
"Where shall I take it, sir?" asked the 'hop.
"Just upstairs, anywhere, the Concierge will direct you, and send another guy with a trolly out. And don't forget the tape!"
The bellhop pushed the trolly with the mattress away through the swinging doors, muttering under his breath, "Non-smoking. You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means..."

9/8/11