After this, it wasn't too hard to convince myself that this was all some warped dream and I should play along.

"I guess Bloody Priscilla just doesn't have the same ring to it," I suggested meekly.

"Oh, and Bloody Mary does?" she demanded, thrusting her index finger in my face. I jumped and backed up another step.

"Well… yeah," I admitted. She promptly drew back and sung in the tone of a dying cat raking its claws down a blackboard.

"Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb,

Mary had a little lamb, its fleece was white as snow.

And everywhere that Mary went, Mary went, Mary went,

Everywhere that Mary went she KILLED PEOPLE!

See what I mean?!"

I failed to mention that Priscilla sounded like a fluffy white kitten, and most fluffy white kittens aren't mass murderers.

"I don't see why people snub me, either! Is it my fault that somebody whacked off my head? That tends to bleed a bit, you know. It's not like I'm trying to scare people. Hell, I try not to! If I wanted to scare people, I'd carry my head around under my arm or something! On the contrary, I tie it on with a ribbon to spare people the gore, and they say I'm a freak! I'm so misunderstood!" sobbed Bloody Priscilla. She collapsed on the rug, bawling her eyes out. I knelt and awkwardly patted her on the back.

"I understand," said I. It was the best thing I could think of and I wanted her out before my parents got home.

"No you don't!" she snapped. Once again, I jumped backwards, startled by the sudden mood swing.

"Well," I replied cautiously, "Maybe I don't. Why, if you aren't trying to scare anyone, are you walking out of mirrors all the time?"

At this question, Bloody Priscilla turned away, blushing profusely. She played with a strand of her hair.

"Well… um… it's…"

"It's…?" I prompted.

"It's… erm… it's a 'girl thing'," she confided in a whisper.

"A 'girl thing'," I echoed.

"Yeah," she confirmed, "You know, that one that happens about once a month and gives the cramps of the worst kind…"

I stared in disbelief, wondering if it was possible for the human brain to overload and implode.

"You… have a period?"

"Why shouldn't I?" she snapped.

"Well… I never thought dead people…"

This certainly explained her mood swings, although how dead people could get PMS was a mystery to me. I didn't even know how they could get a period, but I wasn't really keen on asking her that.

"So what does that have to do with walking out of mirrors?" I wanted to know.

"Feminine accessories," she replied tartly, "Or do I lose that right just because I'm different?"

I might've commented that rotting and lifeless was a little beyond different, but once again decided it wasn't worth the wrath of a PMSing corpse.

"I guess not… But I think you'd get more at the drug store…"

"That building on the corner? I tried," she sniffed, "But some nasty people in blue uniforms put metal things on my arms when I tried to walk out with them. I had to die to get out of it. Honestly, people these days…"

Above her speech I heard the garage door open and panicked for the second time in the last ten minutes.

"Um, great, hey it's nice meeting you and all and while I'd love an autograph I have to go and you do too. There's some in the cabinet over there, grab a few and leave."

I realized the tone was a mistake as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Her eyes watered pitifully.

"I feel so… unloved…"

The door to the house opened.

"Kaylana!" my mother called. "Are you there? Are you doing your homework?"

I smacked my forehead. Perfect.

"Uh, yeah! Just a minute, I'm in the bathroom!"

"Who's crying up there?"

"Nobody!" I yelled, clapping a hand over Bloody Priscilla's mouth. Globs of red lipstick rubbed ff onto my hand.

"Wha-trff y'dnn?" Bloody Pricilla whimpered around my hand.

"If I give you a hug, will you take the stuff and leave?" I hissed.