Morticia sighed as she detached the vampiric kitten from her neck and floated across the shop to remonstrate with the ectoplasm in the corner.
“Put those books back where you found them” she said, slapping the part that most closely resembled a hand.
“Invasion of personal space,” shrieked the ectoplasm, and the succubus rummaging for matching teacups hurried over, hopeful for a piece of the action.
The head of the ghostly bride in the window began to rotate wildly. “Customers,” she hissed, as two young Goths marched inside, eyeing their surroundings with satisfaction.
“Mega or what?” said one.
The other sighed contentedly.
A rerun for this prompt from 2013 this week. Thanks, as ever, to Rochelle for all that she does for Friday Fictioneers.