"What the fuck is that?" said Laurie, as Dan let himself back into their seedy hotel.
Dan avoided making eye contact as he cleared the flimsy corner table of ashtrays.
"Itsawijibrd," he muttered in one breath.
"Why. The. Fuck. Do we need a Ouija board?" gritted out Laurie.
"I just, there's something I really need to ask Rorschach about," Dan said, sheepishly. "If you want, I can wait until you're asleep?"
"No way in hell am I going to be able to sleep if you are phoning Rorschach's ghost!"
"Ok, then. Just, try to keep an open mind," said Dan, as he opened up the sellotaped battered box. "Dammit, someone forgot to put in the planchet."
"Here," said Laurie, handing him an individual packet of Gunga Diner sugar.
"Alright, here goes nothing," Dan said, adding his fingers to hers.
They sat there in silence for a good minute, staring at the Ouija board.
"Maybe it's defective?" suggested Laurie.
"Um, hey buddy, if you are here, we'd really like a sign."
"This is stupid," Laurie said, taking her hand off the sugar packet. "Let's go to bed."
With a sudden jerk, the sugar packet began to move.
"D-E-G-E," read off Dan, "N-E-R-A-"
"Oh hell no," shouted Laurie, slapping the sugar packet clear off the Ouija board. It burst open across the cheap motel carpet. "I am not going to sit here and be called a degenerate by a ghost."
Grabbing Dan by the collar, she hauled him to his feet.
"You want degenerate? Watch this!" And with that she bent Dan backwards against the cheap table, intent on putting on a ghost repelling makeout show for the ages.
"Mmmffff!" cried Dan, in muffled bewilderment and possible horniness.
CRACK, went the table, dumping them both on the carpet.
Laurie was undeterred. At this point she was well-versed enough in owl based lovemaking to know that she had to get while the getting was good, and Dan had mostly cushioned her fall.
"Laurie, wait!" Dan gasped.
"Are you serious?" Laurie said, drawing back to stare him in his reddened face. "Can't you imagine I'm wearing the outfit for once?"
"No! I mean, that's not it this time. Look!"
And with a shaking finger, Dan pointed at the spilled sugar. The spilled sugar that had already arranged itself into a perfectly symmetrical blot.
"What do you think he's trying to tell us?" Dan whispered. "Does... does it look a bit like an owl to you?"
"Oh my God!" shouted Laurie, pulling on her dyed blonde hair. "What could be so important that you have to ask a dead man about in the middle of this?"
"Um, you're not going to like it," said Dan.
"I already hate where this is going."
"Well, I heard a rumor. And it's totally crazy. And probably not true. But..."
"You know how we've been having some, ahem, difficulties... in the boudoir..." Dan trailed off, looking vaguely shifty.
"And it's this rumor's fault?" said Laurie, with a natural and healthy amount of skepticism for a woman who regularly tried to fuck a man with a fixation on spandex and nocturnal birds of prey, but perhaps with a touch too much skepticism for a woman who had just gotten in a Ouija board mediated argument with a ghost.
"I just can't stop thinking about it. I can't eat. I can't sleep. I can't birdwatch. My life is falling apart, Laurie."
"Wait," said Laurie. "That weird spy set up you've got pointed out the bathroom window- that's for birdwatching???"
"You're focusing on the wrong part," Dan said, starting to sweat. "I have to know if it’s true. How could it even be possible?"
Rolling awkwardly to the side, Dan freed the Ouija board from beneath his bulk. He carefully scooped some of the spilt sugar back into the packet and then folded the top corners down to form a makeshift planchet.
"Should I help?" said Laurie, oddly touched by the pathetic gesture.
"Better not," said Dan. "No offense, but I don't think he likes holding hands with you."
Clearing his throat and glancing about the room like he expected a pint sized angry red-headed ghost to put in an appearance, Dan addressed the Ouija board again.
"Hey buddy... if you are there, could you give us a sign?"
Slowly and inexorably, the planchet began to spell out: "N-O."
"Heh," Dan laughed weakly. "Oh, you. Such a joker."
"So I hate to even ask this, but... is there any chance, you might... you know, have-a-son?" Dan blurted.
"A WHAT?" shrieked Laurie as the planchet violently flung itself in the air and then embedded itself deeply in GOODBYE.