Bartender, let me tell you my life story

Hey there everyone, my name is Osamu or as people call me down at the bar, Tov, the other half of Molo. You see the joke there. Molotov. Explosive alcohol. Anyways, my brother Corey (Molo) and I work as bartenders in our town's only pub. We normally see bar fights go on, watch people flirt horribly while drunk and watch them dance to the music in the middle of the tables.
But, the most interesting part of our job is hearing about someone's life story. Normally, it's all about how they got promoted, demoted, fired, hired, married, divorced and all the like. Sometimes... we get something more then a life story. Something disturbing. Some folks walk in and ask for a strong alcohol so they can drink to forget. As they get more wasted, they begin to talk about strange... No, not just strange. Down right creepy and unnerving stories about what's happened previously.
To be honest, the only reason I'm sharing them on here... Well, it just seems to be the right place to put them. Anyways, myself and Corey will add onto this whenever we hear another creepy story.
(This is a deleted pasta from the Creepypasta Wiki. I rather it here anyways, the people here are always a blast from what I heard)
==Neglected==
Well, here's the first one we've heard in our entire job. 
Corey and I were cleaning up the place. Mopping, scrubbing and washing up while maybe about 3 people were drinking by themselves. I was scrubbing down the bar until a man sat down in front of me. 
I offered a smile and asked, "What can I get you good sir?" 
He looked at the bar. "Vodka shots." 
"Alright, coming right up." I took a bottle down from the shelf and a shot glass from the counter. I poured the man a glass then let him take it.  
He gulped it down like he hasn't drunk anything in days. He wiped his lips along his hand and gestured for another shot. I gave him another shot. 
He tilted his head up to look at me, his eyes were red and seemed sore. His cheeks had dried tear trails. "Have you ever left something in someone else's care only to find it gone when you return?" his mono-toned voice escaped from his quivering lips. 
I stared at him, my mind lost in thought at his question. I looked to my brother mopping the floor of the empty stage. My gaze returned to the man. "Well, I have I will admit," I answered slowly. 
He chugged the shot in his hand. "Was it something alive?" 
I shook my head. "I'm afraid not." 
The man chuckled weakly, clearly the alcohol was setting in. I poured him another shot. He rubbed his face and swallowed down his next shot. "I've lost everything," he said sadly. 
I watched him and refilled his glass. "You want to talk about it?" 
He looked up. "Yeah, maybe it will help to get it off my chest," he squinted his eyes on my name tag, "Osamu?" 
"You can call me Tov, all the usuals do." 
He smiled faintly, "Sure, Tov. I'm Jasper by the way." 
I lean my elbow on the bar to listen. 
The man recalled back about a week ago. He talked about how he was visiting family in hospital and left his wife, Laura, and child, Nelson, home alone. The wife was used to just normal house chores she and her husband shared, but the care of the child was normally the father's responsibility. The reason behind it was that this child was adopted by the couple as the father was infertile. 
Jasper had his things ready to go and asked Laura to look after their 7 year old son. He left the house in a hurry. Once he left, Laura told Nelson to go play in his room quietly until she said otherwise. Nelson listened to her demand and walked into his room. He played with his favourite stuffed animal, Patch the Panda. He has had it since he came to live with Jasper and his wife.  
He was sitting there silently playing with his toys while Laura was reading in the living room. He screamed at one point, making Laura race to his add. Once she entered the room, Nelson was pointing to the window where a bird flying into the glass. She shook her head and walked to the window to scare off the bird. It worked and she closed the curtains before leaving the room.  
It was getting close to lunch time, so Laura put down her book and walked into the kitchen to prepare lunch for Nelson and herself. She was planning to make French toast for them. What she didn't realise was that Nelson had smelt what she was cooking, which made him want to come out and help. Laura felt Nelson brush past with his toy, making her jump and scream slightly. She whirled around to him and told him sternly to go back and play in his room. He yelled back at her before running off to his room. She was enraged by her child on her own terms. 
Laura had calmed down as she finished making lunch for the two of them. She called out for Nelson, but there was no reply. She quickly stepped towards his bedroom believing he was giving her a silent rebellion. She opened his door ajar and looked inside. It was empty. She got worried immediately and raced through the house for him. 
The mother stopped dead in her tracks once she saw the limp body of her son in the laundry room. His little arm still holding tight to his panda plush. She stood in shock and sobbed. She reached for her phone in her pocket and dialed the medics. She was hoping he would survive. She checked his mouth as the operator kept her calm. The medics arrived on the scene to revive Nelson.  
But, to no avail, he was gone. Jasper had received a phone call from his wife about Nelson's death. He was mentally unstable for days on end, only just yesterday being able to work again after having a therapist visit his wife and himself everyday. 
After hearing his story, I patted him on the shoulder and told him, "First three shots are on the house, you need them. The rest I can put on a tab for you. I'm sorry for your loss." 
A tear rolled down his cheek. "Thanks for that Tov. You're a good guy." 
I smile at him but it doesn't last long as I see a wispy figure sitting on the stool next to him. "Hey, Jasper? What did your son look like?" 
Jasper looked up at me confused, "He had sandy brown hair, same skin tone as mine and honey brown eyes. Why you ask?" 
I simply pointed with my hand towards the chair beside him. 
He turned to the chair, seeing the wispy figure fade between plains of reality. He choked on a tear and cried into his hands. I looked back to the wispy person, but the figure was now wearing a panda mask as other ghostly, animal-mask wearing children hang of the chair. They all slowly fade away with the boy in the panda mask being the last to fully disappear.
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