A song by me. I got a lot of inspiration (cough cough) from Logan Whitehurst, especially his songs Waffle of Death and Happy Noodle vs. Sad Noodle.

Lyrics:

Every night at midnight, I hear a noise from the basement
Toys on shelves move, I wait in amazement
I wonder what it could be
a supernatural revelation?
under the housing
in the mud
a poltergeist devastation?
I wonder why it’s here, or where it may have come from
But every night at midnight, a haunted hum comes from the basement.

I wonder what occupies the basement downstairs?
Other than wine bottles, chairs, I don’t want to care.
Rather, I stare at my ceiling, hoping it will leave.
But it never leaves. Sometimes, it even tugs at my sleeves.

Oh what is that sound? What is that I hear?
I get a horrible feeling when the spooklies are near.
Could it be Eddy Murphy, in another terrible role?
Or a disturbed ghost, stuck in a muddy hole.
My house isn’t haunted. I don’t believe in that.
But what else could explain these noises, a wandering rat?
So I sat silently sitting in thought,
wondering how these spooklies could be caught.

Should I call ghostbusters?
No, not real.
Should I call a gypsy?
No, Borat would reel.
Maybe the police, an officer of the law?
No, they wouldn’t listen; they’d scoff saying “ja, ja”

I need to find out, or risk insomnia.
Bad sleep, I’ve heard, leads to severe diarrhea.
I got out my flashlight, my revealing ally.
And a wipe, just in case I’d cry.
Down the stairs I tiptoed, carefully, but with ease
I’ve done this before to get crackers and cheese.
I turned on the flashlight, the basement was quiet,
when all of the sudden I saw the word “diet”.

A ghost appeared, right up in my face
I think he was sad, ‘cause his shoe had no lace.
I took out my mace, which I intended to spray
but he sat me down and said, “You stay.”
And he said
“You are the first person, to come to this race.
Oh how my heart beats faster in pace!
You see, I am sad, because my shoe has no lace.
I need to find it, to be in the race!
But make haste! The race starts soon, whether you are or are not in waste.”

So I jumped to my feet
Not missing a beat
I ran up the stairs to find spookly his shoe-y treat
I found my old sneakers and picked them up
I brought them back, and started to hiccup.
“Thanks,” said the ghost, “What a relief!
Now I can race, have some beef!”
And he gave me a 25 year old bag of beef jerky, which I didn’t eat.

At that very moment, the room lit up
in ghostly blue and musical hup
Others ghosts had returned, after having their sup,
to be in the race, and they all said, “Zup!”

Apparently it means, “Let us begin.”
But the way they said it, made it sound like a hymn.
They all lined up, without causing a breeze
Then a ghost came out of line, to give a cruel tease.
He said to the ghost, whom I had given help,
“Why have you brought this human whelp?”
And my ghost said, in reply,
“What does it matter? He’s not going to die.”
And so the other got back into line,
I suddenly noticed that they were next to the wine.

And then the race began.

Rushing up ahead with supernatural speed, my ghost quickly found himself in the lead, leaving others in unholy dust, but they weren’t going to sit there and just rust; they caught back up, and jammed him to the side, but missed and whammed right into a slide, soundlessly as they slid across the floor, somehow their bodies physically wore, but then they came right up again, passed him to the left, like flamboyant French men in a heft, but my ghost was clever and he devised a plan that would sever the ghostly underhands. He took a great leap, high into the air, considering it was my basement, it gave me a scare, but he seemed to know exactly what he was doing, ‘cause when he came down, boy he was really moving like a speeding bullet train, in Japanese, it’s called Shinkansen, but that didn’t please, ‘cause the other ghosts were coming up behind, trying to find a way to blind my friend, but then they’d find themselves in a bind, wind to the right, and fall on their be-hinds.

So my supernatural buddy had won the race.
The others had retired to their old coffins to waste.
And I left the basement, with my beef jerky,
to go back to sleep feeling merry and perky.