The Ghosts In My Pants

Most ghosts appear as sheets flapping in the wind, but the ghosts that haunt my house appear as torn and worn-out pants flying around.
At first, I found them frightening, but in time I’ve grown used to them.
They’re even somewhat ludicrous when I think about them.
Especially when they fly around with their zippers undone.
“X Y Z,” I say to a passing ghost, and the jeans hover there for a moment before zipping up.
It goes back to moaning and flapping around with the others.
The laundry promises to exorcise them this time.
Just like “no starch” right?