Ghost in the Jar

The other day I realized that there was a ghost inhabiting my peanut butter jar. This is a bold statement to make, since to accept its validity, the reader must both acknowledge the existence of ghosts, as well as the existence of peanut butter jars. While you may not believe in either, allow this story to perhaps enlighten you to the existence of, at least, ghosts.

Hungry after a long day of writing articles, working on my resume, and looking for jobs, I left my computer behind, and went to the kitchen for something to eat. Upon opening up the pantry and taking out the Jiffy jar as I had done many times before and already twice that day, I balked at the lack of peanutty heft to the jar. I did not even need to open it to know that there were only scrapings of peanut butter left on the bottom and sides of the jar. Opening the jar confirmed my fears. My first thought was "Who would put an empty jar back in the pantry? Why wouldn't that person recycle the jar?!" The best and most logical answer, I realized, was myself. I was definitely lazy enough to put back an empty peanut butter jar, just as I might return an empty ice tray to the freezer or a bare milk carton to the fridge. You might say that this seems like an ordinary story; so far it is. No ghosts are apparent, only my laziness.

Like many normal Americans, I relish a trip to the local grocery store. A small but important goal is set (getting a new jar of chunky Jif peanut butter), and the odds of achieving that goal are good. Not much would stand in my way during that trip to or from the grocery store. I returned home with $4.59 less in my bank account, but a jar of peanut butter and triumph to my name.

No dilly-dallying. I didn't even put the jar away. I made my sandwich right on the kitchen counter with some white bread. I ate it standing in the kitchen. Now a satisfied consumer, I opened the pantry to place the jar in its proper peanut-butter-jar spot. Upon seeing its predecessor, I realized that I had left the empty jar there, and, in one motion, using both hands, one on each jar, I switched the two. Mission accomplished, I thought. As I walked toward the front door with the intent of reaching the blue recycling bag outside, I hefted the empty jar form one hand to the other. There was something that didn't add up. The empty jar was too heavy; it was no longer empty.

It was at this point I concluded that there must be a ghost in the jar. What else could cause an empty jar to fill with peanut butter?

A few seconds after this epiphany, I had a reality check. There could not possibly be a ghost in the jar; that idea was absurd. If there was a ghost in a peanut butter jar, it would have surely eaten the peanut butter, not replaced it. Anyway, a ghost would not just inhabit an empty jar; there would have to be something in the jar of value, like peanut butter. Therefore, my ghost-in-the-jar hypothesis was wrong on several counts. Any sane ghost would have inhabited a full peanut butter jar, and it surely would not have gone out of its way to fill an empty jar with peanut butter just to show that he was a stand-up ghost.

Of course, I vocalized this entire rationalization aloud. Upon the completion of my prediction of paranormal possibilities, the ghost materialized from the jar only to let me know that he had indeed inhabited the empty (now full) peanut butter jar. Apparently my logic was flawed somewhere along the way.

"Um... Why would you refill that empty jar with peanut butter? Isn't that some kind of loss for you? Don't you have a limit of things that you're allowed to materialize, and doesn't that peanut butter detract from that limit? And if so, why give that peanut butter to me? Why in my jar?"

"I have to admit that I'm surprised that you're primarily concerned with the peanut butter and not with my presence," quipped the ghost, as slight smile spread across his transparent features. "What usually vexes people is the fact that I exist, and not how the materialization of peanut butter benefits me. To be sure, it seems likely to you that I have a personal motive for this, but I assure you that the peanut butter is indeed meant for you, and I do not need anything in return."

"That's nice. But why do this for me?" In the ghost's answer, I learned something interesting about the ghost population and the paranormal in general.

"You humans as a race are correct in assuming the existence of ghosts, shades, specters, and most other beings that fall under the category of 'paranormal.' Unfortunately, you misinterpret the things you observe. You read into them too much." At this point I was pretty confused, but the ghost continued. "I'll give you an example. Say that three pre-teen girls gather in the attic for a foray into the world of the undead. When they have suppressed all their ponies and nail polish and giggles at the command of their leader, Sally, who claims she can reach the spiritual world, they whip out their Ouija board and begin. Thinking they might be crossing over, they ask the name of Sally's next boyfriend. Unfortunately, either Marge or Ethel up in Informational Services is required to reply to this trivial issue."

"Huh?" The ghost proceeded to mimic the astonished look on my face and then burst into an echoing laughter as it bounced around my kitchen with fits of the giggles. When he finally returned to his previous position in midair in front of me, he wiped away an ethereal tear and continued.

"We have a whole system for our world, just like you do in your world. Our Informational Services resembles your '411' or 'Google.' When you humans attempt to invoke spirits, you merely tap into our world. To think that you can summon us is quite a hysterical idea in the eyes of most paranormal beings. Informational Services is privy to such information as Sally's future boyfriend's name, and unfortunately, Sally has fulfilled proper asking procedure through the use of a Ouija board. Assume a team of 'ghost hunters' investigates a haunted house. Using your primitive aura reading and ghost imaging, you might witness a ghost. However, note that the ghost is not at all appearing for the crew of dunces, heavily weighed down by loads of expensive gear; the ghost merely is doing its prescribed duty of haunting. We don't involve ourselves in humans for good reason. We do not like you very much as a race. You are very nosy."

"So what you're saying is..."

"Any action done by a ghost that a human witnessed was not done so that a human may know its presence. It is just happenstance that the human may have witnessed something. I was slated to fill this peanut butter jar, and yes, the peanut butter is for you. May job is to replace things that people use up. It was part of a goodwill agreement between your world and ours. Think nothing of it."

And with that, the ghost disappeared, leaving me holding the now full peanut butter jar, with lid intact, as he had phased through it like a proper ghost, which he must have been. I learned quite a bit from this little episode. Besides getting an inside look into the inner-workings of the infrastructure of the paranormal society, I also learned a valuable lesson. Never buy a new jar right away. Wait a little while; you might have more peanut butter before you know it.