Word on the street is that Ghostbusters: Afterlife is a rollicking good time, full of nostalgia and fun for the whole family—a suitable option for Thanksgiving evening viewing, if that’s the way you roll. Also: a great reminder that Paul Rudd’s handsomeness has not dimmed even one iota over the course of time. Crucially, though, the Ghostbusters universe is populated with a variety of ghosts and various other terrors from beyond the grave. Setting aside the question of these little buff marshmallows for now, another, more pressing matter comes to mind—one that was so salacious and untoward that I felt it was necessary to address on my own. Is Slimer, the big nasty ghost who eats a lot of stuff, a viable sexual partner?
I polled a fair amount of my colleagues and friends, but most of them ignored me, or told me no in a polite but also resigned fashion. Fair. Slimer is a ghost, which should not preclude you from making the choice to bone, if that’s where you want to take this. Many people have sex with ghosts. He’s made of ectoplasm and not much else, but somehow also has a big mouth with teeth and a tongue. Additionally, he’s a bit of a hedonist, with a zest for life and cheeseburgers in equal measure—an appealing trait for those looking for a good time, and not a long time. There’s an enthusiasm to the way Slimer lives his life that seems appealing to me, but there are some thorny technical details that might stand in our way.
While Slimer has no real body to speak of, there’s a chance that he could form himself into the shape of something that could work out in my favor. His tongue is enormous and could serve as an ersatz dildo, if it came down to it. Getting my back blown out by a ghost who eats hot dogs in the manner depicted above would certainly be a story to tell the grandkids, if I survived the ordeal in the first place.
Sex with Slimer, however it shook out, would be the sort of dalliance that would require a mental health day or two afterwards, for some quiet reflection, introspection, and at least seven hours to clean the ectoplasm and other effluvia from the sheets, walls, and other surfaces. Unlike most sexual encounters, too, the chance of death is pretty high? I don’t trust that Slimer wouldn’t eat my entire body wholesale after the act was done, before disappearing back into the afterworld, with me in his tummy as his forever friend. It’s not the worst way to go out, I suppose, but it is at the very least interesting.
Happy Saturday! You made it. Slimer (if you want him) awaits.