‘Tis the season to be spooked–which is perhaps exactly why Wreck Room, after three months of being closed, has finally gotten a ghost that’s decided to take up what would seem to be permanent residence. All The Burning Bush can say is, it took long e-fucking-nough. With all that residual energy in there, it’s a wonder the Phantom of the Wreck Room didn’t start haunting it immediately after the doors were shuttered.
The Burning Bush took a page from Dr. Peter Venkman and broke into the Wreck Room through the former Arancini Bros. window with some weird device we made out of an old Taser and some tape that we assumed would either attract or expel the spirit forces propagating within the premises. Considering Bensonia is an ominous spirit in her own right, it didn’t seem like we would have to tango with anyone who was truly evil. But lo and behold, right before our very eyes, we saw one of the ghosts fuse with some of the many excess traces of semen and cocaine resins on the booth seats and then magnify itself into an entity at least nine feet tall.
The grotesque ghoul then had the gall to open its maw and groan, “Get out of my bar.” The experience was nearly as Twin Peaks as we’ve ever gotten, except that unfortunate Williamsburg party. But instead of adhering to this supernatural asshole’s demands, we tried to use our makeshift paranormal exterminating device to cast out his presence from the bar. But all it did was cause an electrical fire that resulted in a greater explosion than that time the Girls tour bus blew up in front of the bar. And so, you win Semaine (that’s what we’ve decided to call him as it’s a combination of the materials he’s composed of). You can have Wreck Room–for now. At least until another landlord infiltrates it.
Written by Genna Rivieccio