The Laughing Ghost (Tex Avery) is at home in a tiny, friendly haunted space, quietly studying a book titled How To Haunt Houses and trying out a few classic haunting poses that the book swears are usually successful for specters. With a gleam of curiosity, he flips through pages that show goofy,-but-effective stances, popping into each pose and admiring his own reflection in a dusty mirror. After a spell of pose-practice, he toggles over to the Haunt Ads tucked inside the Saturday Evening Ghost, dated Saturday December 13, 1939—a date that, in real life, fell on a Wednesday—and scans the listings with the air of a hopeful job seeker. The excitement of possibility grows as he imagines new, mischievous adventures waiting just beyond the page.
One listing stands out: a haunting job at a house perched high on a mountain, addressed at 1313 Dracula Drive. It promises that no prior experience is required, which suits our little ghost perfectly. He shimmies out of his white, sheet-like outfit and slides into a light blue suit, topping it with a crisp white hat. Between wardrobe changes, he remains invisible, quietly sliding through walls and corridors. Yet he still finds it oddly satisfying to open doors as he glides past, turning even the simple act of entering a room into a playful flourish.
When he arrives at the mountain house, the assignment quickly becomes more than a routine scouting of space. The job interview—or rather, the audition—unfolds under the scrutiny of a bigger, more seasoned ghost who seems determined to test the newcomer. The imposing interviewer launches a barrage of intimidation: a loud, taunting “Boo!” that jolts the little ghost, a Ghostal Telegraph that flashes the same chilling message, and even a lit firecracker that resembles an M-80 dropped into the scene to scare him further.
> Boo!
The spectacle of this larger ghost’s plans backfires in a flash. The fireworks, tucked into his own back pocket, ignite when a stray match he drops catches, and the fuses explode into a chaotic, comic blaze. The bigger ghost is sent hurtling through the rooms—bumbling, crashing, and careening in an slapstick, unstoppable flight—until he crashes out of the building and plummets into a well bellowing with echoing splash and laughter from the surrounding shadows. Meanwhile, the little ghost uses the confusion to slip away, a cheerful spark of relief lighting his translucent form, and he makes a quick, victorious retreat back to the safety and familiar comfort of his own house.
In the aftermath, the mountain mansion’s eerie silence settles once more, punctuated only by distant creaks and the soft flutter of curtain hems caught in a stray draft. The little ghost, relieved and a touch gleeful, settles back into his daily routine, flipping the pages of How To Haunt Houses and planning his next lighthearted venture. The encounter with the larger interviewer becomes not just a brush with danger, but a reminder of why playful tricks and clever improvisation—hallmarks of this director’s world—keep haunting life both amusing and endlessly inventive.
