Somebody needs to write that novel or short story about judgmental Jewish ghosts.

eshusplayground:

In the days before Pesach, an apparition of a tiny, elderly woman appears in your room at night, glaring at you and snarling, “Chametz! Chametz!”

That time you try to cook meat in the dairy pot, and the pot knocks itself off the stove. Then you try again, and it knocks itself off the stove again. Then you try a third time, and it knocks itself off a third time.

Every Shabbat, all the local Jewish ghosts come to your house. Even though they can’t eat anything themselves, they definitely criticize your cooking while simultaneously telling you to eat more because you look thin.

You try to call some priests to exorcise the house, but the ghosts keep arguing with them: “Who died and gave you the deed to the house?” “Why do we have to go? We were here first! You go!” The rabbi ghosts tell the priests they’re doing the exorcism all wrong and begin arguing among themselves about exactly which steps go into the exorcism. Every time the priests try that, “Power of Christ compels you!” thing, a rabbi smacks them upside the head and says, “Goyische kopf!” Hours later, the priests leave, weeping in frustration.

If you happen to still be about that dating life, all the matchmaker ghosts go with you. Hilarity ensues.

You become shomer shabbat by default, just to have some peace in your house. The last time you weren’t, the electricity in the house (except the fridge because wasting food is a much worse sin than flicking on a light switch) “accidentally” blacked out until the end of Shabbat.

One day, you ask them, “Why are you still sticking around? You could’ve been with your families! You could’ve met G-d! You were already dead. Why did you stay here? Why couldn’t you just let it go?”

Then Ploni, who’s been dead so long he’s forgotten his real name, shrugs and says, “Eh, this is more fun.”