Chapter IV: Tales from the... uh... Sepulcher?

The day began relatively normally. Burnt toast, weak coffee. I don't know why, but for some reason, my coffee is always weaker than everyone else's. Except Marvin's.

Marvin's coffee always sucks.

But, then again, from everything I've heard, Marvin's whole life sucks.


Alex announced this morning, that the rent was due tomorrow. "Okay." Marvin said. "Give me a minute." He went up to his room, and came back down with a shoebox.

When he opened it, there were checks, and little stacks of cash paper-clipped together. "Here's my pay from McDonalds... here's my pay from Lumberjack John's Clam Shack... here's my pay from Magic City Pharmacy and Surgical Supply..."
"Dude, how many jobs have you had?"
"How many days have there been?"
"...You've had a new job every day?"

He nodded. "Yes. They're all miserable people to be around. And I can't stand being around them for more than a day."

He turned back to the shoebox.

"Here's my pay from Mad Mack's Maskerade... here's my pay from Nordstroms... here's my pay from Burger King..."


"Alright, that's nice," cried Robin, loudly, "but, y'know, we have a slightly more pressing issue at hand."
"We do?"

She nodded, solemnly. "The batteries in the remote died," she declared, and then, pointing to me, "You! Go in the hall closet and get some batteries. Double-A."

I just nodded, and shrugged a bit, and headed toward the hallway.

I know I should have been worried, though, when I heard Sid blurt out, "No, now see, that was mean. You can't make him go through that." I didn't think anything of it, really. I didn't really think anything of it when I heard Robin say, "No, it's okay, I'm sure he can handle the closet."

So, I go to the closet in the hallway. There's nothing terribly abnormal about it. It's a good, solid wood door, it's painted white, and has wallpaper in the center panels to match the rest of the wallpaper in that hallway. Of course, the fact that there was a constant cool breeze coming from underneath the door didn't really mean anything to me. And wire that runs along the floor, down the hall, and into the closet really didn't seem like a big deal, either.

So, I reached for the doorknob.

Sid ran out into the hallway, screaming, "Wait! I have batteries right he--"

But it was too late. I had already gotten the door open.

Chapter II: Just as bad as the DMV

I don't know why, but, for some reason, when girls smile at me, they're never thinking, "hey, hot stuff." It's usually more along the lines of, "That'll be the last time he moves my laundry basket."

This morning started with burnt toast and weak coffee. Sid sat across the kitchen table from me. She didn't get involved in the "the world sucks" rant, she just sat there and stirred her cocoa. Then, she looked up, and smiled.

It wasn't an evil smirk; it had all the elements of a pleasant smile... but you could tell that it was still evil.

"Hey, Brad, you doing anything this morning?"
"...no, why?"
"You do know you have to fill out a handful of forms at City Hall, right?"

I'm pretty sure my heart stopped beating. City Hall is the most inconvenient place in all of Magic City.

"I do?"
"Yup. Y'do," she said, quietly. "Have fun!" she suddenly, cheerfully squeaked.



After an hour and a half of traffic circle hell, I got down to the actual building. I park my car, and meander inside.

It's actually really nice inside. Marble floors; mahogony counters... it's beautiful.

So I walk up to the front desk -- a monstrosity of mohogany carvings, moldings, and decorations, with the Magic City seal sitting right in the middle.

"Hi, my name's Brad Leighton, and, uh, I have to fill out a change of adress form... and they said to come here, instead of the Post Office... and I also have to--"
"That's not a problem. We'll do one form at a time," explained the woman behind the counter. "Now, where do you live, here in Magic City?"
"Uh... 42 Kide-Taivas Avenue."

She giggled. "No, really. Where do you--"
"That's my address."

She looked both ways, before leaning over the counter. "Have you ever, y'know..."
"Have I ever what?"
"...Have you ever seen the Death Lazer of Doom?"

I stared at her. "I'm sorry, I don't..." I honestly didn't quite understand what it was she was getting at, but it had something to do with a Lazer.

"Have you ever read the Police Report?" she finally asked me.
"...No."
"C'mon, I'll show you."
"Wait, wouldn't it be here, with the files?"

She giggled again. "No. We framed it. It's in the lunchroom."



After Dr. Délatuer had threatened some local teens, (something to the effect of "get off my lawn before I blast you with my Death Lazer of Doom"), they called the police. When the police show up, one's like, "So, what's with this 'Death Lazer of Doom' we keep hearing about?" And the other asks, "is that pointy thing sticking out of the garage roof the Death Lazer?"

Which it wasn't. Because the "pointy thing sticking out of the garage roof" was actually the garage door opener. The Death Lazer was in the attic.

"So, what do you need a Death Lazer for?"
"Well, how do you dry your sweaters?"
"So, it's not for world domination?"
"I'm sure it could be used for that..."



Yeah. Every one at City Hall was laughing at me... until I told them that Alex Normandy was my landlord.

Then they started laughing at "Mr. Normandy."

Alex is going to kill me later. I'm sure of it.

Prologue II: The tale of the House

Magic City Community College, by the way, has an interesting concept of the "application process". There were two questions on the paper:

1. Have you ever heard of the SATs? (yes/no)


2. Can you afford the tuition? (yes/no/maybe)

That was the application I filled out. Again, that should have clued me in. Like I said, I was so obliviously giddy, I was practically shitting confetti.

I digress.

I honestly don't know what possessed me to do this -- probably my inability to pay Room and Board -- but within the first two weeks, I had moved into a large, Victorian manse near the Western edge of Magic City.

The massive Victorian house, on Kide-Taivas avenue, had originally belonged to a crazy old guy named Dr. Délatuer. Apparently, he had tried to take over the world, a number of times. According to the guy down at the coffee shop, he never got farther than, "get off my lawn, you filthy brats! Go away, before I blast you with my deadly laser of doom!"

They also say he wore a waist-coat and knickers.

Well, anyway, when he died, he left his entire estate to the local museum. They kept what they wanted, and sold the rest.

"The rest" included the house. Supposedly, that's why the house is so 'strange'. "It attracts strange people," the guy at the coffee shop says. "When the end of the world comes, and the earth cracks open, to let hell spew out,the Earth will crack underneath that house!", he went on to explain. "I heard it was haunted. If anyone tried to start up his death lazer of doom, he would possess it, and destroy the entire city."

Uh-huh. Yeah. Rumor has it he's a nut-job.

Anyway, the museum put it up for sale.

And someone was crazy enough to buy the Délatuer mansion.

That someone, was Alex Normandy. He had been talked into buying the house, by his sister, Robin. While the house was an "exceptional deal" for a Victorian mansion, it was still an excessive amount of money.

So each sibling bailed out the other, by finding people willing to rent out part of the house, so they could make the mortgage payments. (I'm told this is actually financially feasible, but it's still odd.)

This is what I moved into.