It was pretty much a rule that when a house was rumored to be haunted, the neighborhood kids were required to explore it and hunt for ghosts. Or uncover the complicated but more logical truth, in Lisa's case.

"I still don't see why you couldn't just get Martin if you needed a token smart guy along for the ride," she said.

"He's got Latin club. Besides, he's allergic to ghosts," Bart said, picking up a brass candlestick swinging it like a sword. "En garde!"

"Hi-yah!" Milhouse picked up a broom and started dancing on the balls of his feet. Lisa rolled her eyes.

"Would you two cut it out? Those belong to someone and we're already treading dangerous ground by trespassing!"

"Oh, lighten up, Lis." Bart tossed the candlestick aside. "Still, maybe you're right. I heard ghosts only come out if you're quiet."

"Naw, I heard they like interruptin' conversations," Milhouse countered.

"For the last time, there are no such things as-" Lisa was cut off by a sharp wail followed by a rush of wind blowing through the curtains and sending papers and books flying every whichway. Lisa couldn't help shivering, almost glad as Bart and Milhouse clung to her in fear.

"N-now do you believe us?" Milhouse gasped, still hanging onto her even after Bart had let go.

"No, there's still a perfectly logical explanation for what just happened," Lisa said. "So I'll just go over here and close the window." But the window was bolted shut, just like every other one in the room. "Okay...then it must have come in through the fireplace," she offered. "But whatever it was, there's no such things as ghosts and I think we should leave before we get caught."

Bart made a frustrated noise and kicked up some dust.

"Spoilsport. Some of us like believing in crazy things, this is just like the time we found that angel skeleton and you didn't want anyone to believe it was an angel!" he grumbled.

"But it wasn't an angel, right?" Milhouse asked. "It was a sales pitch for that mall that closed a year later."

"That's not the point," Bart snapped. "My point is, Lisa's a spoilsport."

"Well, it was your own fault for dragging me along in the first place!" Lisa retorted. "I only did it so Mom could go to her book club and Dad didn't have to put on pants and get off the couch!"

"Guys, please don't fight!" Milhouse cried. "It's hard being torn between my awesome friend and his pretty sister!" That earned him an eyeroll from both siblings.

"Whatever, I'm gonna check the kitchen for more ghosts," Bart said.

"Fine." Lisa sat down in a rickety old chair. "I'll just sit here and wait until-aaaaaah!" The chair shot up about ten feet in the air and plunked down again, knocking the wind out of her.

"Lis! You okay?" Bart forgot about being mad at her and ran to her side. "You didn't break anything, did you?"

"I..." She gasped, standing up. "I'm sure there's a logical explanation for..."

"There's a logical explanation all right!" Milhouse shuddered. "The ghosts are really mad! We gotta get outta here, fast!"

"Would you relax? They just want to play with uhhhhhh!" Bart grunted in pain as a book slammed into his gut.

"Bart!" Lisa pulled him to his feet.

"See?!" Milhouse grabbed each of them by the hand. "Come on, let's go before they drop a piano on us or something!"

"Now do you believe us, Lisa?" Bart gloated weakly as they fled.

"Can't argue, running for my life!"

"I think you both got what you deserved," Milhouse said. "Bart got in trouble for treating ghosts like toys, and Lisa got proven wrong!"

"Shut up, Milhouse!"