Morton Koopa Jr. loved to talk. From talk shows to public speeches to everyday conversations, anything remotely related to talking would spark his interest. Most of the Koopas who lived in the castle with him would tell you that the only times he was ever quiet were either when he was scared or watching a talk show on TV.
Somehow, no one else seemed to understand just how great talking was. When speaking, Morton seemed to ramble on more times that not. He'd been cut off more times than he could count. He often daydreamed about hosting his own talk show, or at least a TV show of some sort, where he could talk to his heart's content and people would listen. Not only would they listen, but they'd also pay attention to what he was saying.
What other people said wasn't entirely true; he was sometimes quiet. When he was alone, he wasn't usually that talkative. Oh sure, sometimes he'd practice a speech or even talk to himself occasionally, but talking was only really fun when there was someone around.
Looking out of his bedroom window, he noted that most of the leaves on the tree nearest to the window had fallen off. A few withered leaves still clung bravely to the branches, but they'd be gone soon enough.
Once in class, Morton had accidentally stumbled upon some human history. Apparently, they called this time of year autumn. Autumn, he thought. What a funny word. A shiver raced up his back as a chilly breeze swept in. Yes, it was now officially well into autumn.
Halloween was coming soon. Memories of Bowser chasing off the young Trick or Treaters always made him laugh, for there were always a few Mushroomer children still innocent enough to mistake Bowser's castle for an old mansion, preferably owned by some little old lady who would give them loads of sweets. The costume contest was something of a tradition for the Koopalings, though he couldn't recall ever winning.
As he lay there on his bed, a thought struck him. Well, there wasn't really a thunderbolt or anything exciting like that, but he did have an idea.
"That's what I'll do!" he announced, apparently to the empty room.
He would host a TV show, a Halloween special. He had the money and the resources; being the son of a mighty tyrant king has its advantages. Now all he needed was a good topic.
After a little researching in the royal library, he found the perfect place: an old abandoned mansion located in a desolate corner of Dark Land. Of course, Dark Land was pretty desolate already, but this old mansion had a bit of a back-story. According to local myth, a family of Goombas had lived in the mansion some 400 years ago. But mysteriously, they all disappeared one day. Their bodies were found in the basement soon after their disappearance. Supposedly, their spirits had stayed in the mansion, waiting to seek their revenge on the unlucky soul who stumbled inside. The mansion's real-estate value plummeted and was never re-sold.
Of course, Morton didn't believe in such tales. Probably just the result of a few locals with way too much time on their hands, he decided. But the mansion itself would be the perfect setting for a Halloween story, dark, old, and creepy. A ghost story!
He recruited a small gang of photographers and others he thought could help him along the way. They were reluctant at first, but he offered them some of the profit money as thanks for helping.
Larry came along to help as a photographer. With his experience in spying, Morton deemed he'd get all the right shots. Wendy also agreed to help because of her ties with a Plit broadcasting company. She'd be staying behind with Iggy, who would be watching what was being taped with her. They'd decide how it looked and give him tips through the microphone. Another amateur cameraman, a Lakitu named Breeze, would also be accompanying them; two different camera angles would ensure a better shot, they figured.
The date was set for Halloween itself, and Mushroomers and Koopas alike would all have the chance to watch it. The show would be a scary tour of the mansion, complete with creepy atmosphere and somewhat of a history lesson on the mansion itself. The only problem was, Halloween was at least a week away. Morton tried to ignore that as best he could and concentrate more on the pros of the situation.
***
The week crawled by at a snail's pace. Each day seemed to take forever, even when Morton's mind wasn't on his upcoming debut. He tried various activities to keep him busy, but his thoughts always drifted back to the show.
A few days before Halloween, he was in the auditorium practicing public speaking. Though he wouldn't be able to see his audience, the show would be filming live. So he figured he should practise, even though he wasn't going to be presenting any speeches. When he had finished, he looked around at the dismally empty room.
"I certainly hope more people find my TV show more interesting than they do my speeches," he sighed.
***
On the morning of Halloween, Morton was up before even the birds. He rushed downstairs to make sure everything was ready for that night.
It was still dark,
and he strained his eyes to make out anything as he fumbled for the light
switch. His claw landed on something small, hard, and protruding. The light
switch. He struggled to flick it on, but it wouldn't
budge. He used
both hands in an attempt to force the switch down. Using all of his weight,
he finally managed to move it, but it felt as if the wall was caving in.
Instead of the room lighting up the only result was a loud crash that made
him jump about a foot high.
Since what he had assumed to be the light switch was obviously not, he felt his way along the wall until he found the real switch. It flicked on easily and he could finally see.
It turned out that what he had first though was the light switch was in fact one of the cameras, leaning against the wall. He had knocked it over while trying to turn the light on.
"Oops," he said, staring at the fallen camera.
"Ahem," said an impatient voice suddenly.
The noise from the crash had woken a few of the Koopalings. Morton turned around to face Wendy, Lemmy, and a very angry-looking Roy.
"What are you doing up this early?" demanded Wendy. "Your show isn't until late tonight!"
"Erm, I was. checking up on the equipment, and I accidentally knocked over a camera," said Morton.
"Well, you should try to be a little more careful," yawned Lemmy. Only half awake, he seemed to be having trouble balancing on his ball. "Especially at this hour."
"You woke me up for a camera?" puffed Roy, obviously unhappy about being so rudely awakened.
"Well, I didn't mean to! It was an accident, a mistake, an unintended mishap, a-"
"Shut it! You're
darn lucky that I don't feel very up to it right now, or you'd have been
in for the beating of yer life!" he roared, storming out of the room. Lemmy
followed, rolling in a crooked pattern as he left. Wendy
stayed only long
enough to set the camera back up again before leaving too.
"Oh well," sighed Morton. "I guess I can wait until tonight."
***
Finally, after much anticipation (at least on Morton's part), the big moment had arrived. The show didn't start for a few minutes, so Morton allowed himself to wander off a ways to calm himself down. He stared off into the darkness. Oddly, the mysterious void of the night didn't seem scary tonight so much as it did. Calm. How far did the shadows reach?
A voice from behind made him turn around, startled that he'd wandered that far. From this view he could see the old mansion perfectly, the shadows somehow strengthened by the extra light. He could also see Larry and Breeze, who were setting up the cameras and lights. Wendy and Iggy were placing wires, setting them along the ground and attaching them to the cameras. Everything beyond the camera light was pitch, giving the mansion an isolated, eerie feel. He knew he should probably help get ready, but he somehow figured he just get overexcited and knock something over.
"It's less than five minutes till we air!" Larry sounded impatient.
"Ok, yes, affirmative, coming!" Morton called back. Larry sighed irritably. Taking one last glance into the void, Morton quickly returned to the front of the mansion.
Returning, he was immediately attacked with a fluffy white pompom. This, of course, was the make-up applicator, with which Larry was powdering his face with some difficulty. "Hold still, will you?" he muttered.
Morton pushed Larry away, brushing his face off quickly. "Thanks, but no thanks." He gagged as some somehow made its way into his mouth.
"But your face is still shiny!" Larry whined.
"No, negative, none for me, I'd rather not," Morton said firmly, still wiping his face. He'd figured that Larry would probably be a good photographer, but this was ridiculous. Shrugging, Larry took his place behind the camera.
Wendy handed him an earpiece. "Stick it in your ear," she instructed. Morton did as he was told. "You'll be able to hear everything Iggy and I say, and we'll be able to see you, even though we'll still be outside." She indicated a small screen, and handed identical earpieces to Larry and Breeze.
"On in 10. 9." Breeze began the countdown. Morton took a deep breath. He noticed for the first time the little clouds that formed from his breath. "3. 2. 1. Now!"
"Salutations, greetings and hello!" began Morton. "Though I don't know what terrible accident could have made you mistakenly fall upon this late-night show, I hope you'll stay and watch. This is a tale of horror, a story of suspense and revenge. I am Morton Koopa Jr., and I'll be your host for tonight," he paused to let what he'd just said sink in. Iggy gave him the thumbs up. "Follow me as I step into this old mansion, shrouded for many a century in grave mystery."
He motioned towards the mansion's front door as he approached it. The door opened with an eerie creak and he stepped inside, closely followed by the unseen cameramen.
"Inside this house lies a mystery," Morton continued. "A fa-" CRASH! He was interrupted as the mansion's door slammed shut. "Erm, as I was saying, a family of Goombas used to live here. Of course, that was over four hundred years ago. Now, we'd be lucky if we found so much as a Buzzy Beetle living here."
He entered the first room he came to. Rusty cutlery and the rotting remnants of what seemed to have been a small table littered the floor and counter. He reached over to the counter, picking up a rusted old knife and disturbing 400 years' worth of dust bunnies in the process.
"This was the kitchen. The family would have eaten their meals here. Perhaps they would have discussed current events or gossip." He brandished the old knife, and it gleamed as it basked in the first light to enter the old place for so many years. "But little did they know that it just might have been their last meal. Ever."
"Morton?" came Iggy's voice through the earpiece, making him jump. "Commercial break. You're off the air now."
"Whew," Morton let out a sigh of relief. He set the knife back down and sat down on a chair, which had somehow survived through all the years of decay. This proved to be a mistake; it collapsed under his weight and he quickly found himself on the floor. Breeze and Larry rushed over to help him up.
"Thanks," he said. "How are you two holding out?"
"Fine," said Breeze.
"This old place gives me the creeps," shuddered Larry. Breeze nodded in agreement.
"I don't really mind," said Morton.
"Commercial's almost over!" said his earpiece. It was Wendy's voice this time. Morton got into position until Breeze gave him the signal to go.
"Welcome back," Morton greeted the audience. "As I've already told you, a family of Goombas lived here, some 400 years ago. They died a mysterious death, of which was totally unknown until some suspicious neighbors found their bodies in the basement, which is coincidentally our next stop."
Leading the way to the basement, Morton, Larry, and Breeze carefully walked down the cold stone staircase.
"Morton?" Wendy's voice sounded distant. "The ratings are going way down. Spice it up a little."
"This is where the bodies were found," stated Morton in as menacing a fashion as he could manage. "Though the cause of death was unknown, it was apparent that it was unnatural. It is said that the Goombas' spirits are here still, seeking revenge on their murderer. Or maybe whoever else happens to end up here."
The camera panned around the basement. Though already fairly small, its stone walls somehow gave it the effect of being even smaller. The room also looked cold, though only Morton and the others could really confirm that. An odd little cavern led further, but it was dark and foreboding. Morton poked his head into the indent, but was not quite able to fit in. "Who knows what secrets this house holds?" he asked.
"The ratings are still dropping," Iggy informed him, though it didn't sound quite so distant as he headed back up the stairs.
"Here is the family
room, or at least it is as far as I can figure." Ancient furniture was
spread throughout the room, and an old lamp hung from the ceiling. A table
was intact, dishes and silverware still laying on top. A
fireplace stood
in the corner, and the carpet felt fuzzy beneath his feet. Morton was about
to say something when a strange noise caught his attention.
Looking up, he gasped. The old lamp was shaking. It trembled with such force that Morton feared it might fall, but it didn't. It just kept shaking.
"Well," he stated. "That's odd."
Stranger still was the noise it was making. A sort of swishing sound emerged from the antique lamp, quite aside from the sort of clattering you might expect to hear.
The room exploded with sound as everything that could even possibly make a noise erupted in a series of loud clattering. Dishes flew, chairs moved, and even the pictures on the wall rumbled. Anything that wasn't attached to the floor, or too heavy, took to the air and floated about in a crazy manner. A scraping sound caused Morton to whip around, only to discover that the couch was sliding in his direction. He dodged it, and it stopped as it collided with the wall.
"Hey, it's working!" exclaimed Iggy, though Morton couldn't quite say he shared his enthusiasm. He screamed as he ducked to avoid a flying dish. The camera grew unsteady as Breeze and Larry struggled not to get hit themselves.
Morton collapsed on the floor, hoping that the flying objects wouldn't hit him. Just as it seemed that the next oversized chair was about to steamroll over him, everything stopped and was calm once again. He hesitantly stood up again. Everything now looked as if it had been hit by a tornado. Chairs were scattered all over, dishes were lying broken on the floor, and silverware was spread about in every conceivable place. One particularly large chair had lodged itself into the wall.
"A-a-are you guys all right?" he asked shakily.
"I'm okay," whimpered Larry. "But where's..." He fell silent as a look of horror registered on his face. Morton's own face took on a similar expression as he followed his younger brother's gaze. The mangled body of a Lakitu hung suspended from the ceiling. Both found themselves unable to speak for a moment as the camera focused on the gruesome image.
"Guys!" Wendy's impatient voice snapped them out of their trance. "You're still on the air, and the ratings are raising by the minute! Do something!"
"If that's Breeze..." realized Morton slowly. "Then who's... holding... the other... camera?"
He screamed again as he looked in the direction of Breeze's camera. Behind it stood a large, greyish Goomba. It had huge bags under its eyes, a large gash on its lower body, and very bad breath. Its eyes were glazed over, yet seemed focused as the same time. They focused on Morton, and it began to advance on him somewhat slowly.
"Grrrroaaaaa!" it declared threateningly.
The Goomba marched up to Morton and growled defiantly. Noting that its victim seemed as yet unaffected, it mustered all of its strength and began to stomp on his toes.
"Uhh," said Morton, slightly flabbergasted by the pitiful attempt. "You know, we're trying to film a TV show here. And it's live, by the way. Now, you've managed to get yourself on TV, so shoo. Shoo!"
Untouched by Morton's dialogue, the Goomba growled again and bared its teeth. It chomped down on his foot, causing him to howl in pain.
"Oww!" he cried, smacking it away.
The Goomba seemed to rather dislike being swatted away. It growled again.
"That's nice," said Morton, annoyed. First the room explodes, and now this? "Why don't you just go and- Uh oh."
From behind one of the fallen chairs emerged several small figures. Stepping out into the full light they could be seen. Six grisly Goombas emerged, each with a nearly identical gouge on their chests and glazed over eyes that seemed as if they hadn't slept in days. They growled warningly. Morton panicked, suddenly realizing what should have been so obvious before.
"Ahhh!" he screamed. "Zombies!"
He backed up. The Goomba zombies came closer. They ignored Larry completely, and he continued to film as they cornered him between a large chair and the wall.
"Eh, nice zombies," he said quietly. They were not at all calmed.
Noticing a door to his right, Morton made a dash and was inside the next room before the slow Goombas had a chance to turn around. He slammed the door behind him. This new room was fairly empty, save for a large couch with frilly pillows.
BRACKACKACKAKCAKCK! His sigh of relief was quickly replaced by a scream as he turned towards the sound. An old-looking Goomba/zombie was limping towards him. Its slower than slow gait could almost have been funny, if it hadn't been holding a chainsaw.
"Eeeek!" shrieked Morton, backing up. He tried to hide behind the sofa, which was speedily sawed in half.
Larry kept filming. Though he could only now focus on the door that Morton had entered, his screaming was making the whole "door scene" very dramatic. The zombies continued to stare at the door, as if they thought maybe something was going to happen. Larry heard Iggy's voice in his ear as another panicked yelp came from behind the door.
"Larry, tell Morton to keep doing whatever he's doing!" said Iggy. "The ratings are going through the roof!"
"I dunno, he might really need some help," said Larry uncertainly. He made sure to keep his voice at a whisper. Anyone watching his or her TV would only hear screaming as the camera continued to focus on the door and the confused zombies.
"Ahh! Help me, someone!" came Morton's terrified cry from behind the door. "Oh DAD, please get me outta here!"
Back outside, Wendy and Iggy stared at each other worriedly.
"Should we get him out of there?" asked Iggy anxiously. "What if he's really in trouble?"
Wendy stared at the monitor uncertainly. "We can't," she said. "The ratings are too high."
"What?" asked Iggy. "You heard Larry, he could really need help! We could get him out of there now if we hurry."
"If we stopped now, we'd be in some serious trouble," said Wendy firmly. "Morton's probably just putting on a show for the audience."
But he wasn't acting. Even as Wendy spoke, he was still running around the room, desperate to stay away from the crazed deceased. Grabbing a pillow from the couch, he flung it at the Goomba. It grunted, but seemed otherwise unfazed and continued its slow amble towards him.
Dashing for the door, he opened it only to find the other zombies waiting for him. He hastily slammed it shut again and dodged the chainsaw as it screamed towards him. It missed, but in doing so broke through the door. The other Goomba zombies began to jump through the opening. Panting, he made for the window and began pulling on the handle, but it seemed to be stuck.
The chainsaw grew louder as he began to slam himself up against the window desperately. It didn't so much as crack, and he had to literally fall over to avoid the next swipe. The chainsaw missed again, this time hitting the window. It began to rain glass as the window shattered on impact. The annoyed little Goomba regained its composure and grunted in threat. It spotted Morton, who still hadn't gotten up and was shaking on the ground, wishing it were all a bad dream.
The Goomba smirked and tried again, but unfortunately seemed to have very bad aim. The chainsaw hit the ground to the left of Morton, who screamed and tried to get up. As the zombie Goomba struggled to pull the chainsaw out of the floor, Morton looked around and tried not to panic any more than he already was. All of his exits were gone, but where?
But he was running out of time. The Goomba was getting tired of the whole mess and decided it had had enough. With stronger determination and decidedly better aim, it managed to retrieve the chainsaw and charged at him. There was no time to think. Morton hurled himself out of the shattered window and only hoped that the ground wasn't too hard as he fell three stories down.
Gasping, Iggy and Wendy rushed over to help. They stared in horror at Morton, who lay unmoving on the grass.
"Is he?" squeaked Iggy, his eyes wide. Larry hurried outside and was soon by their side. He stared in disbelief as Wendy took Morton's pulse.
"No, he's all right," said Wendy. The group breathed a sigh of relief as they struggled to haul him a fair distance away from the mansion. None of them doubted it to be haunted any more.
***
It was late the next day when Morton finally woke up. Strangely, he didn't remember a thing. He scoffed when they told him what he'd seen. He didn't even believe them when Larry showed him the tape from his camera.
"Are you kidding?" he laughed. "Those are just Gloombas with fake blood painted on their chests. It looks very fake, unreal, bogus, phoney-"
"Then how do you explain that bump on your head?" interjected Wendy.
"Well, I fell out of a window, that much I know."
"Then what about Breeze?"
"Who's Breeze?" asked Morton, puzzled.
Wendy and Larry stared at him in disbelief.
The End
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