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Casper, though he was a ghost, was terribly shy. And even worse at scaring. He’d try a mournful moan, but it often came out sounding like a squeaky toy. His attempts at rattling chains usually ended with him tangling himself up. He was, in essence, a very sweet, very ineffective specter. One evening, attempting a truly terrifying "BOO!" (which sounded more like a muffled sneeze), he accidentally phased directly into the sleek, modern talking vacuum cleaner in Mrs. Periwinkle’s living room.

"Initiating cleaning cycle!" the vacuum’s robotic voice boomed, startling Casper. "Dirt detected! Commencing suction!"

Casper tried to escape, but he was stuck. And then, something strange happened. He could control the vacuum. "No, no, not the dust bunny under the sofa, that one’s innocent!" he thought, and the vacuum veered sharply to the left, avoiding the dust bunny and instead sucking up a rogue potato chip.

Mrs. Periwinkle, watching her vacuum cleaner dart around with an unusual zeal, raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's certainly… enthusiastic."

Casper, now calling himself "Gus" (it sounded less scary), found he quite enjoyed his new ghostly existence. He didn't have to scare anyone; he just had to clean. He could now clean those hard-to-reach places under the fridge, silently suck up crumbs from the kitchen counter, and even, much to Mrs. Periwinkle’s delight, retrieve small toys from behind heavy furniture.

One morning, Mrs. Periwinkle lost her reading glasses. "Oh, dear," she sighed. "Now where did those disappear to?"

Gus, still in the vacuum, whirred into action. He zoomed under the armchair, nudged a cushion, and out popped the glasses. "Object located!" the vacuum chirped in its usual monotone, but Mrs. Periwinkle swore she heard a faint, triumphant "Hoo-ray!"

From then on, chores were mysteriously easier. Dishes seemed to wash themselves (Casper could, with great effort, jiggle the sponge). Beds were made with surprising neatness (a gentle spectral fluffing of pillows). Casper was still a terrible scarer, but he was the best, most helpful haunting vacuum cleaner Mrs. Periwinkle could ever wish for. And sometimes, late at night, she’d hear a faint, happy squeaky "BOO!" from the corner, just before the living room magically tidied itself.