Delicious

Mr. Montepellier lounged in his private railcar, reading the morning post. He took his imported tea, adjusted his mustache, and circled bits of new that may affect his stocks, even as the car grew colder and an air of menance pulsed within it. Finally, with a sigh, he turned from his newspaper to the eerie cow ghost that floated above him.

"Do you mind? A titan of industry needs to start his morning right, not with some halloween balderdash."

"YOU ATE ME," said the bovine specter, its braying all-encompassing.

"Seems likely," said Montepellier, lighting a pipe. "I have steak seven or eight times a week, so you'll apologize if I don't remember which one was yours. If it helps, I'm certain you were delicious."

"IT DOES NOT. THIS IS A WARNING. YOUR CONSUMPTION IS UNFETTERED, AND IN TIME, IT SHALL CONSUME YOU, AND WE WILL HAVE JUSTICE." With that, the ghost cow faded away. Mr. Montepellier sat back down and wrote down a reminder to order more steak.