John Lennon’s Ghost

I once went out with someone whose bath was haunted by John Lennon’s ghost. The faint sound of songs he never got to finish came through the pipes. The quality was little better than a bad radio, but you could tell who it was. My girlfriend stayed in the water until her skin was puckered, serenaded by the spirit of a dead Beatle, while I waited. When the landlord raised the rent too high, she was heartbroken. She spent weeks talking back to Lennon’s ghost, saying where we were moving, begging him to follow. But the new bath stayed silent.