Spooky Estate
Welcome to the [[spooky estate!]]
If you can spend one night within it's supposedly haunted walls, the deed is yours!
If you fail, you lose the deed to the scariest entity of all — a complicated legal arbitration!
Shall you [[approach the front door with caution]]? Or will you [[run at it full speed while swinging a sock full of nickels over your head?]]
Though a third option crosses your mind, [[blowing all this off and spending a night with the fellas.]]You approach the front door, cautiously and tepidly. Before you can reach it, the groundskeeper Bronk appears before you.
"You don't seem very enthusiastic about coming in," he sneers. "Why don't you come back when you have a sock full of nickels to swing around over your head."
You go and retrieve a [[sock full of nickels.|run at it full speed while swinging a sock full of nickels over your head?]]As you speed towards the door, your nickels swinging ever faster, the groundskeeper — Bronk — throws open the doors and stops you in your tracks.
"Woah there, eager beaver. There's enough haunted mansion for everyone," he laughs to himself as he guides you inside.
Do you [[kick over some headstones in the backyard]], demand to [[fist fight a ghost]] or [[find a rug you can take a nap under?]]You spot what you think might be a ghost. It's definitely either a lady in a victorian nightgown, or curtains. Either way, she's cruising for an ass bruising.
You begin to run erratically at the ghost, but immediately trip over a large ornate rug that you were eyeing to potentially take a nap under later.
Flying through the air, you can't help but reflect on your situation. You wonder if all of your needless aggression will lead to an untimely demise.
Do you [[give a big "fuck that" to calming down and tense your body up like crazy?|bed of nails]] Or do you [[consider a zen approach, relax your muscles, and release your bowels?|bed of nails]]You lift up the large, ornate rug in the main hall and begin sliding your body underneath it to take a nap. Suddenly, you fall through a hole in the floor and begin sliding down a long dirt tunnel.
You emerge in a fantastical world known to it's denizens as "Rug World". Picking yourself off the ground, you are greeted by a few of it's inhabitants: Blumbo Cat, The Crazy Cobbler, The Knave Of Giggles, and like 50 other fucked up people.
You spend the next 80 years of your life living in "Rug World". You have a wife, a family, and a career. You spend so much time in Rug World you forget about who you are in the above world. It is a distant memory.
At the end of your life, you roll your feeble bones over to Rug World's well and throw yourself down. You never hit the bottom, instead you fall into a deep slumber.
You wake up in the haunted mansion and you are a young man again. The past 80 years of your life were nothing but a dream, you suppose.
But as you reach into your pockets, you find the crumbs of one of Blumbo Cat's special chocolate pastries.
"Chekov's gun," you say as you roll the crumbs around between your thumb and forefinger. Your awarded with the deed to the estate, but all you long for is Rug World.You leave the house and enter the family graveyard out back. All of the headstones have your name on them, with today as your date of passing. But you're here and frickin' breathing, so obviously these are misprints. Time to kick the hell out of these bad boys.
Do you begin [[kicking over headstones as hard and fast as you can?]] Or do you [[read the mysterious letter laying in the middle of the graveyard that explains how you still have time to change your fate?]]Like a bat out of hell, or like a different animal but out of heaven, you begin kicking over the headstones as quickly as you can.
Unfortunately, the spirits don't take too kindly to grave desecration. Behind you, a tornado begins to form in the graveyard, collecting the gravestones and spinning them wildly towards you.
"It's just like the nickels. Chekov's Gun" you mutter before being pummeled to death by 25 or 30 gravestones.
Before the next morning, Bronk finds your body in the backyard. He lays a single rose across your chest and weeps, giving you mouth to mouth for hours. I guess he was your Dad or something.
You land, full force, on a bed of nails that just happened to be sitting around in the parlor. Your bowels evacuate on impact, either from feeling too tense or feeling too loose — it's hard to say.
Bronk, the groundskeeper, immediately runs to your side. "I'm so sorry, sir. That bed of nails is where I sleep every night and it is my responsibility to put it away when I'm done. Should I call the police?"
"No cops," you groan, attempting to unimpale yourself. Despite your situation you're smart enough to remember the "no cops" clause of the agreement. Also the "no ambulances" clause, the "no guns" clause, and finally the "no pants" clause.
You're already on strike one, considering you snuck a gun into the house in your ankle holster. But you did make sure to respect the hell out of the "no pants" clause, and thus your bare ass is impaled.
Do you [[relax your body and begin to accept death?]] Or does it look like [[this bed of nails is coming with you to fight the ghost?]]You die just as you lived — ass out and with blood pouring out of your mouth like the gentlest of babbling brooks.
This is how you wanted to go. You are at peace. Bronk will spend the rest of his life blaming himself for your death, but who gives a shit about that guy.You hop back it into your 1998 Toyota Turcell and speed back into town, blasting your Naughty By Nature cassette tape that's been stuck in the deck for the past decade. You don't care though, you fucking love that tape.
On your way back into town, you stop by the liquor store to grab some brews for you and your friends.
Do you pick up [[a 24 pack of tried and true Budweiser|fuck it]] or do you take a trip down memory lane with the [[cheap flavored vodka you would steal in high school?|fuck it]]Fuck it, you grab both. Mike's home from Afghanistan and crashing at his parent's house, which calls for celebration.
You cruise over to Mike's place and you're feeling great. Everything about this feels right. You roll down the window of your car.
"I made the right choice," you scream to the highway passing you by, a road you've driven thousands of times since you were a teenager.
You pull up to Mike's house and enter from the basement door, just like when you were 15.
Do you [[triumphantly present the booze to the old gang?|they cheer]] Or do you [[pretend like the liquor store was all out of beer due to a nationwide beer shortage before pulling the brews out from behind your back, surprising everyone.|they cheer]]
They cheer as soon as you walk in the door, before you have a chance to say anything at all. You look into the eyes of each one of your boys and realize they couldn't care less about the booze, they're just happy to see you.
You put the drinks in the fridge and plop down on the couch in your usual spot, right between Kevin M. and Kevin R.
Nothing's changed at all.
You guys throw on a PG-13 movie starring the group's favorite actor — Seann William Scott. But you're too busy catching up to pay attention.
Do you [[ask Kevin M. about his newborn daughter?]] Or do you kick it over to [[Sick Garrett to ask about his hot air balloon rental business?]]"She's good," Kevin says, without expanding at all on the magic of fatherhood. That's about the long and short of what you wanted to hear anyway.
Suddenly, Tall Ryan begins to yell a familiar yell.
"Where are all my Oogie Oogie Boys at?!"
Holy shit, that was the name of your crew in high school. You know exactly how to respond.
"Down in the Oogie Oogie swamp with the fat crocodiles!" you all yell back completely synchronized.
Do you [[complete the Oogie Oogie Boys chant?]] Or do you [[laugh and hug, because some things are better left unsaid?]]"Pretty good, our numbers are up from last quarter."
Suddenly, Tall Ryan begins to yell a familiar yell.
"Where are all my Oogie Oogie Boys at?!"
Holy shit, that was the name of your crew in high school. You know exactly how to respond.
"Down in the Oogie Oogie swamp with the fat crocodiles!" you all yell back completely synchronized.
Do you [[complete the Oogie Oogie Boys chant?]] Or do you [[laugh and hug, because some things are better left unsaid?]]"Are my Oogie Oogie boys hungry?"
"Yes Oogie captain!"
"How do my Oogie Oogie boys like their burgers?"
"Rare as hell with all the fixins, and an ice cold beer on the side!"
"How do Oogie Oogie boys get 'em?"
"They ride on their booger boards, pick 'em up drive thru style in a big fat flood."
"Chow down Oogie Oogie boys!"
You all make noises as if you were chowing down like little pigs in a trough.
Just as everyone goes quiet, having chowed down on their burgers, Seann William Scott racks his nuts on the movie in the background. Everyone erupts in laughter. It is the funniest thing that's ever happened to any of you.
You look around and realize, "Damn, it doesn't get any better than this. It really doesn't."
And you're certain, absolutely certain, that you've never been more right.
What a perfect moment. What a perfect fucking moment.Before you can continue the Oogie Oogie boys chant, you're all overcome with a bout of laughter. And not because your favorite actor Seann William Scott just racked his nuts on a bannister after realizing he wasn't having sex with the woman he thought he was having sex with. You're laughing because some things are better left unsaid.
You all huddle up, wiping tears away from your faces. Good tears. Tears of laughter.
This night feels like so many of the others you've lived through in the past, but it's different this time — it's better.
You realize that you don't need material things like a large haunted estate to make you happy. You're happy with yourself, and who you are, and all you need is the love and companionship of good friends. Lifelong friends.
Meanwhile, on the otherside of town, Bronk the groundskeeper of your great Uncle's large and haunted estate lies himself down on a bed of nails. You're both exactly where you need to be."Looks like this bed of nails is coming with me!" you exclaim redundantly.
You rock back and forth like a turtle before flipping yourself up onto your feet.
"Like a glove..." you whisper for some reason as you begin to trudge towards what is certainly a ghost.
But, as you get closer and closer, you discover that it isn't a woman in a victorian nightgown at all, but curtains covering a beautiful stained glass window.
"Oldest trick in the book," you mutter before falling unconscious from the loss of blood. As you faint, you accidentally fire the gun in your ankle holster. The bullet hits Bronk right between the eyes.
"Chekov's gun," he says inexplicably before dying.Who are you joking, you don't know how to read. You light the letter on fire and then gingerly blow the ashes into one of the graves as a little "fuck you" before kicking it over.
Unfortunately, for you, the spirits don't take too kindly to grave desecration. Behind you a tornado begins to form in the graveyard, collecting the gravestones and spinning them wildly towards you.
"It's just like the nickels in the sock. Chekov's Gun!" you mutter before being pummeled to death by 25 or 30 gravestones.
Before the next morning, Bronk finds your body in the backyard. He lays a single rose across your chest and weeps, giving you mouth to mouth for hours. I guess he was your Dad or something.
