“And finally tonight, New York City once again avoids complete annihilation. We go live to Lisa Bordeaux on the scene. Lisa?”

“John, It’s chaos in Manhattan tonight as firefighters and rescue workers begin cleanup of one of New York’s more bizarre disasters. I’m standing outside 55 Central Park West, the focal point of countless reports of the paranormal this week. Apparently this is the culmination of the recent ghost activity that has been plaguing our city.”

“What on earth is covering the ground behind you, Lisa?”

“We’re not sure yet, John. The authorities have been warning people not to come in contact with the substance as it is still quite warm and hard to remove from hair.”

“I see. Any leads on who’s responsible, Lisa?”

“I’ve actually been told we have the up-and-coming supernatural scientist team known as the Ghostbusters to thank for this… mess.”

“And how does the damage look to the neighboring church—”

“Hold on, John. I think I see one of the Ghostbusters now. Excuse me, sir? Could you explain what happened here tonight?”

“Certainly. I believe what this city witnessed can accurately be described as the attempted second coming of an ancient Sumerian demigod.”

“Oh. So… did you stop it then?”

“In a way. My colleagues and I successfully banished the entity from our dimension which, in turn, destroyed its physical embodiment. I believe this has also severed the flow of extraplanar activity emanating from the premises, though I’d have to run some tests to confirm this.”

“And do you know what all of this… stuff on the ground is?”

“That would be the physical embodiment I mentioned before.”

“Do you have any idea what it’s made of?”

“It’s hard to tell at this point. Based on the aforementioned demigod’s country of origin, his remains could well be comprised of the root of the Althaea officinalis mixed with common honey as opposed to the modernized aerated confectionery of dextrose, corn syrup, and gelatin. Although I wouldn’t rule out the traditional French method of pâte de guimauve, in which case a whipped meringue of some sort may be involved.”

“Are you telling me this is edible?”

“I wouldn’t recommend consumption, no. It may contain traces of ectoplasm, not to mention it’s lying in the street. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to collect some samples.”

“Of course. Thank you, Mister…?”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather wait until the city assesses the full extent of the collateral damage and the ownership thereof before giving out my full name.”

“Uhh… back to you, John.”

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