Agray and dreary rain was falling on Cambridge last night when the knock came at my door. Putting my textbook aside, I leapt to my feet and opened the door. "Yes?" I said.

A young woman stood in the hallway "Excuse me, I represent the class gift..."

"No," I said.

She did not bat an eyelid. "Can I talk to you about how even a one-dollar donation would improve class spirit?"

"No thanks," I said, and closed the door.

Strangely, though no other person was in the room, I did not feel alone. It was almost as though a ghostly spirit remained, an unearthly presence some-how connected psychically through ethereal vibrations produced by my callous dismissal of Harvard's financial needs. Almost as though a portal to the next world had somehow been wrenched open, permitting the spirits of the dead to pass through to this plane of existence. Somewhere, lightning crashed.

I thought nothing of it, however, and decided to lie down and take a nap.

I began to dream. I was in a final exam and I was naked and the professor--except it wasn't really a professor, it was a talking dog--never mind. Anyway, it was over soon.

Suddenly, my room was torn by an enormous explosion. The smell of death filled the room. The floorboards broke open, and from the steaming earth rose a looming, ominous form.

"Rutger?" I said. "Rutger Fury?"

"Yes, it is I, Rutger Fury, your former close personal friend and one-time literary editor of the National Enquirer, recently deceased," said the dead man. "I have been awakened from my eternal slumber--well, it was supposed to be eternal--by your unnatural refusal to give generously to the class gift."

"Really? I didn't know that Harvard's influence extended that far," I said.

"You're kidding. Hadn't you heard that JFK '40 had close links to the underworld?" came the raspy reply of my undead ex-pal. "But seriously. I have come back to this world to help you rectify your mistake before it is"--thunder boomed--"too late."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't hear all of what you said because of the booming thunder."

He sighed. "I said I have to help you rectify your mistake before it is over-whelmingly obvious to everyone that you're a skinflint, and I want to get done by 11, so let's hurry up before it gets too late."