The Haunted Hula

I own a hula lamp.

After a trip to Hawaii, Santa miraculously knew to put one under my Christmas tree.

I remember seeing them, sensuously displayed in the window in paradise. Hips gently swaying - elegantly shaped - flowing grass skirts - boobs incandescently accentuated under an amber bulb.

She is bodacious.

Today, she sits on my night stand. Still a-swingin'- though she has a bit of a squeak when she rocks to one side. Her fingers have long since busted away from the wear and tear of traveling between dorm to home. I wrapped her in swaddling clothes, but alas, she could not weather the storm.

I want to pass her down to my offspring and make sure she becomes a generational heirloom.

When I'm on my death bed I'll hire a witch doctor to encapsulate my spirit within her bosom. That way if anything happens to the lamp I'll have an excuse to haunt some bitches.

I'll be all like "I'm a genie".