1. Sally was his wife.
2. Mack was his best friend.
3. Sally and Mack had both been dead for some ten years, Mack having blasted Sally’s brains somewhere over Cleveland before turning the gun on himself.
They both sprang up to see him standing there. “What the fuck are you doing here?” shrieked Sally as she crossed her arms over her breasts. Harry set his backpack down. “I live here. And you two are fucking deader’n hell. Can’t you find a more suitable environment for this?”
Mack lurched forward, displaying none of the modesty of his raw nudity that his partner in the ghostly clenching had shown. “No man, maybe YOU should find a more suitable environment!”
As was his habit, Harry stepped into the bathroom to wash his hands in cold water. “I’m gonna go out for a stroll. If you guys are still here when I get back, the .38 is gonna make its presence felt.”
When he emerged from the can, they were gone.