Michael was never much a superstitious person. He didn't believe in ghosts, or zombies, maybe vampires. But everything changed when he was working overtime at the museum, making sure to make the memorial of his most favorite famous person in the whole wife world more shinier than it needed to be. Skeets was hovering by, playing Michael's 'Cleaning playlist' through the speakers, while the blond danced around instead of doing his job.

Michael had been too caught up attempted to do a 21st century dance move, blissfully unaware of the mop bucket right behind him. His heel hit the plastic and he lost his footing with a loud yell of surprise. Next thing he knew, he was covered in dirty mop water, and someone was laughing at him. The audacity! How dare someone laugh at him!

And then realization set in, because the museum was closed, and nobody was there besides him and skeets. And he knew Skeets wouldn't laugh at him. Well, he hoped so, at least. His head snaps towards the sound of the persons laughter at an inhuman speed.

"Hey! The museums closed!" he called out, stumbling to his feet and trying not to slip on the tiled floors. Key word being trying, because Michael's luck always ran out, and he ended up slipping. Again. God this was so embarrassing.

He lets out a pained groan, blinking open his eyes, before the most girly shriek leaves his lips. Why? Because his idol's ghost was right there in front of him and OH MY GOD GHOST'S ARE REAL-