Frenchy leaned back on her barstool and stared at the transparent newcomer floating a few inches above The Candy Bar’s floor. Nigel Hammerstein puffed out his spectral chest the way Charmy did whenever someone accidentally called him brave. Nigel had that same proud glow, except his glow was literal and mildly unsettling.

Frenchy had her phone out faster than Weaver could roll his eyes. She typed Nigel Hammerstein into the search bar and instantly regretted it. The entry was long, chaotic, and seemed to have been edited by someone with strong feelings and very little supervision.

Nigel hovered proudly. My legacy lives on. My valor, my sacrifice.

Frenchy squinted at the screen. Valor is one word for it. Wow. This is, um, impressive.

Charmy leaned closer. Impressive like good impressive or impressive like the time Flimp glued all of Sarge’s boots to the floor?

Flimp, still wide eyed after shouting oopa oop, tapped Frenchy’s shoulder and pointed urgently at the phone. Frenchy nodded. Yes, yes. I know. Wikipedia says you were a traitor and enemy spy. Also, one reviewer gave your biography one star and wrote, Quote, This man is the reason my ancestors moved to Canada and never looked back, end quote.

Nigel’s face flickered like a bad Wi Fi connection. Lies. All lies. I was a hero.

Frenchy cleared her throat with the seriousness of someone reading a Yelp review about a restaurant that serves soup at room temperature. It says here you tried to defect three times but got lost each time because you could not read a map. It also says that during the Battle of Lexington you accidentally revealed your troop’s position by loudly bragging about how sneaky you were.

Weaver tried not to laugh, failed, and snorted root beer through his nose. Charmy slapped the bar and howled. Even Candy, who had heard everything from lizard conspiracy rants to Flimp’s opera attempts, paused mid latte pour and stared.

Nigel floated higher. That map was poorly drawn. And the bragging was meant to boost morale.

Frenchy continued scrolling. It also says you were caught trying to trade military secrets for three muffins and a hug.

Nigel turned pinkish in outrage. Those were excellent muffins. And I was going through a lot emotionally.

Frenchy nodded sympathetically. Sure. Of course. The footnote says the muffins were blueberry and the hug was described by witnesses as limp and unsatisfying. #awkwardhug

Flimp cackled and cartwheeled down the bar. “Oopa oop eek”.

Frenchy translated. He says he would have demanded at least a dozen muffins and maybe a fist bump if the hug was going to be that bad.

Charmy looked impressed. Honestly that seems reasonable.

Nigel began pacing in midair like a ghost who had just discovered cardio. All of this is a misrepresentation. A smear campaign. None of it is accurate.

Frenchy bit her lip. Well it also says that during one battle you tried to rally your troops with a speech but misquoted every inspirational phrase in history. She scrolled further. You apparently shouted, Give me liberty or give me a sandwich. Then you yelled, Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask where the restroom is.

Weaver slid off his stool because he was laughing too hard to maintain verticality. Candy had to lean on the espresso machine to stay upright.

Nigel folded his arms with ghostly offense. I was misheard.

Frenchy kept going. There is a whole section about your attempt to create a disguise. It says you tried to blend in with local wildlife by wearing a raccoon pelt as a hat but forgot to remove the raccoon. The raccoon bit three soldiers and stole two canteens before escaping.

Nigel wavered. That animal had unresolved anger issues.

Charmy nodded. Those raccoons are tough. One stole my sandwich last week and growled like it wanted my entire military career too.

Frenchy scrolled. There’s another section titled The Incident. No other details. Just the title and a long list of citations from newspapers with headlines like Man Causes Chaos at Camp and Local Hero Realizes He Might Not Be a Hero and Spectacular Blunder Leaves Troops Confused.

Nigel groaned. That was one time.

Frenchy frowned. But there is also a section titled The Other Incident. And another one titled Please Stop Asking About This Incident. And one more titled This Incident Was Worse Than the First Three.

Nigel sagged like a wilted flower made of fog. I had enthusiasm. That should count for something.

Frenchy tapped the table thoughtfully. True. Enthusiasm is important. For example, people on social media love enthusiasm. They post inspirational quotes and morning selfies and videos of dogs dancing to pop songs. Actually that gives me an idea. She flipped her phone to selfie mode and pulled Nigel into the shot. Say cheese. Or blueberry muffin if that triggers nostalgia.

The ghost blinked. What is happening.

Frenchy snapped the photo and typed. Caption reads, Hanging out with a Revolutionary War hero who was apparently a disaster but had big energy. #historyfails #ghostvibes #throwbacktoghostday #muffingate #CharmysArmy

Weaver peeked over her shoulder. Nice work. He is trending by midnight.

Nigel looked alarmed. Trending. That sounds severe.

Frenchy waved him off. It just means people will talk about you. Maybe even defend you. The internet loves a problematic figure. Someone will make a seventeen minute video essay called Misunderstood or Menace. The Nigel Hammerstein Story.

Charmy grinned. Maybe someone will start a fan club.

Nigel brightened. A fan club. That sounds noble.

Frenchy arched an eyebrow. Well hold on. It also says here that you once accidentally set your own tent on fire while trying to impress a woman by juggling torches.

Nigel flickered. That was a very windy day.

Frenchy shook her head. It was not windy. The entry quotes two separate diaries saying the air was calm and peaceful and also that you should not have been allowed near torches in any weather.

Nigel wilted again.

Flimp hopped onto his stool and raised both arms. Oopa oop.

Frenchy translated. He says you are lucky to be a ghost because otherwise you would still be grounded.

Nigel groaned. Grounded by whom. My commanding officer is long dead.

Frenchy shrugged. She says he would come back just to do it.

Charmy slapped the bar again. Frenchy you are on fire tonight.

Nigel hovered with a look of deep existential reflection. Perhaps history has been cruel to me. Perhaps my deeds have been misunderstood.

Frenchy gave him a sympathetic pat even though her hand passed halfway through him and came out chilly. Look Nigel the important thing is that you tried. You may not have been the hero you thought you were but you made people laugh. Even back then. Usually unintentionally. But laughter is a legacy too.

Flimp nodded. Oopa oop.

Frenchy translated for Flimp, “You are kind of a disaster but a lovable disaster. Like Charmy”.

Charmy frowned. Hey.

Weaver waved him off. She is not wrong.

Nigel straightened slightly. So you do not despise me.

Frenchy smiled. Nope. We see right through you in more ways than one but that is not so bad.

Nigel glowed just a little brighter. Thank you. I shall leave you now. I must go update my own Wikipedia entry.

Frenchy blinked. You know how to edit it.

Nigel floated upward. I Googled it.

Then with a shimmer he vanished through the ceiling leaving behind the faint smell of blueberry muffins and mild historical regret.

Charmy stared at the spot where he disappeared. Well that was a thing.

Frenchy tucked away her phone. I give it twenty minutes before someone reverts all his edits.

Weaver grinned. History always wins.

Flimp lifted his glass triumphantly. Oopa oop.

Frenchy translated again for Flimp, ” Let’s toast to chaotic legends”.

And they did.