Ghosts Exercise

KYLE: Storm's a-brewing, Johnny-boy. You can smell it in the air. The clouds are gathering, and soon they'll break, you'll break, and I'll get to watch it all.
JOHN: Shut up.
KYLE: Now why would I do that, when it so obviously bothers you?
JOHN: You're not real. You're dead.
KYLE: Oh, I'm dead, all right. The bullet you put through my right temple saw to that. Soon, now, you'll pay your price.
JOHN: You deserved a lot worse, you evil son of a bitch.
KYLE: That may be. But you never proved it.
JOHN: Just, shut up.
KYLE: Storm's brewing. This is a war you called down on yourself. Holed up in here with your dead hostage, all the cops in the burg around you. You won't be walking out of this one, Johnny-boy.
JOHN: You're dead. Just leave me alone.
KYLE: Can't, m'boy. Those are the rules. You killed me, and so I'm with you to the end. 'Course, that won't be long, now. (Pause) It was the same way with that bitch sister of yours. She just would. Not. Shut. Up!
JOHN: (Rushes Kyle, pins him to the wall.) Don't talk that way about her.
KYLE: (Laughs) Or what? You'll kill me again?(John pistol whips him. Kyle is unfazed.) It wasn't just the constant crying, either. (Again) Your Charlotte wasn't any great shakes to look at, but the cutting I did certainly didn't make her any prettier. (Again. Kyle laughs.)