And Mr and Mrs Ghost are at the restaurant - Our *****-ghetti Place - the one at the dead end, and that plays their favorite soul music
"How would you like your drink, ma’am?" asks the Head Waiter, who, for obvious reasons, is just a floating head
"I’ll have my drink ice ghoul, screech you," says Mrs Ghost "And as usual, Mr Ghost would like his eggs terri-fried, please"
"Also," says Mr Ghost, "I’ll have coffin after" "Scream or sugar?" asks the floating head "6 spoons of scream, screech you" "And same for you too, ma’am?" And Mrs Ghost replies: *"No…Booberry Ice Scream, please"
...another poem in my series on spooks, ghosts, ghouls and such...poem(s) based on jokes from various sources