MOTHER 1 NOVELIZATION VOLUME 1

I was sitting in my bedroom, reflecting on my family’s history, especially my great grandfather, George. He lived from 1899 to 1982, or 83 years. Not terribly long when you think about it, but his wife Maria only lived to be 27 (1899-1926). George was a complete wacko, almost reaching Scientologist proportions. He was obsessed with the paranormal, psychic powers, you name it. When he died, his will requested he be buried on Itoi Mountain, which, frankly, I never understood and probably never will understand. 
There’s been a rash of kidnappings and abductions lately in the papers. The president’s doing nothing about it, either! This is what happens when a former movie star is elected! Yeesh! Anyway, it’s about Mother’s Day, and I wonder what Mom’ll be getting from me. That canary in the pet shop looked like a good idea, but it was $80, man! Eighty! There’s no way I can make that much money in 7 days, except maybe drug furnishing. There are plenty of hippies in this town. But the problem is I don’t have any drugs to furnish.
I walked out of my room to go make myself lunch when I felt a dull pain in the back of my head.
I turned. There was my lamp, with a demonic grin on its face, trying very hard to bite my nose off! I am totally bemused, but I’ll leave it for later. I did what any weak nerd in this position would do: Hit wildly and hope it’s your lucky day. Eventually, I felt my hands begin to bleed, so I knew I’d broken the lamp. The house began to shake violently, as if it was a snowglobe.
I heard screams from both of my sisters’ rooms. I decided to check on Minnie first, because she was closest. I went in there to see her struggling with her pillow. I got some fabric scissors from my room (long story) and began to cut the pillow. It worked, and the pillow was cut in two.
After that episode, I ran into Mimmie’s room. She was fighting her babydoll. She, for some weird reason, always stripped it when she was using it, so it was nude. I threw the scissors at it, and the head came off, like I’d done with so may Barbie dolls of hers (see? I told the long story).
The doll’s head promptly fell off. The rumblings of the house stopped. The phenomenon has stopped… for now.
After the rumbling stopped, my sister Minnie implored me to check the doll. I wanted to see if Mom was all right, but this seemed more interesting. After examining it at length, I found nothing odd. I t was not until Minnie told me to look inside that I happened to hold it feet up, and an strange purple box with a tiny crank fell out of the hole where the head wasa supposed to be.
It’s a music box, and I opened it up, turned the crank, and listened to the tune. It was only 5 notes long, which was expected, seeing as the box was only about 3/4ths of an inch long, and not very deep at all. It was, however, a tune I could recall. It was an old lullaby my father used to sing to me before he and Mom split up when I was about three. But, sadly, Murphy’s laws decided they had the final word, and the rest of the tune escaped my brain like my cousin Wally escaped that maximum-security prison in Ellay.
So, deciding that I was still rather famished, I went downstairs to get me some tortillas left over from Mexican night about two days ago at the local restaurant, Dave’s Diner, owned by, stunningly, a really nice guy called Dave Manny. As I ate what was left, I saw no sign of Mom, even though my stomach really didn’t let me think about it that hard. Turns out she was at the front door, just standing there like a Greek pillar.
After a small speech by her, the phone started ringing. I grabbed it. It was Dad, which made me overjoyed because by phone and by mail are the only ways I can speak with him.
He told me the problem was a poltergeist, and that down in the cellar my greatgrandfather had a diary relating to such matters, as well as something Dad only referred to as PSI. He hung up the phone, and I stood there for a while, contemplating two things. One, my GGF wasn’t as crazy as it seems, and two, what the heck is PSI?
The cellar door was locked, but I had a notion as to where the key might be. Our dog, Mick, was a hoarder of anything shiny, so I decided to check in with him first. For some strange reason, his barks, whimpers, and growls translated in my head to real English words. I asked if he had the key. He… nodded. I was beginning to get seriously freaked out. On his callar was the key I needed, and I took it and walked very quickly towards the house.
I unlocked the door, and saw that the cellar was completely dark. So, being a sensible person, I got all of the flash lights in the house and tested them. Fortunately, one of them worked, so I went into the depths of our cellar. The Valley Girls would have called it “Grody”. I call it the absolute most vile, disgusting, dirty place I’d ever set foot in. There was literally blood on the walls. I did not want to know who or what at one point circulated the blood around their body. I went in, and saw there were three presents lying around. I checked one. It had a Wiffle bat inside. Much more useful weapon than fabric scissors. In another was, um, 70-year-old bread. Eew. But I took it, because if I ever got lost, I could pull a Hansel. In the final presents was a tattered commonplace book, which I figured was the diary Dad talked about. I took it and got out of there as quick as I could.
I decided a walk to town was in order. When I got to my neighbor Pippi’s, her mom was frantically calling and pacing. I asked what the problem was. She said she was at the graveyard visiting her late husband, and Pippi went missing. She asked me to see the mayor about this if I was going into town, and being Pippi’s friend, I accepted her request, and started south.
I walked down the road to my town without incident until the sign welcoming me to my hometown was within my line of sight. But suddenly, my cousin Wally jumped out of the bushes dressed as a rancher and proceeded to attempt making three holes within a 12-year-old kid with his pitchfork. I repeatedly dodged these blows and kept smashing him on the head with my Wiffle bat. It’s not the most effective weapon, but it does the trick. I kept on bashing until my previously bright yellow bat was streaked with red blood, which, as it was made from blunt plastic, took a while. I pushed him surreptitiously back into the bushes, and continued on my way. I soon came to a row of near identical white Cape Cod-style houses. Only one of them had any difference from the others by way of a different-shaped door. I continued south until I reached a two-story structure with a pink door, which I knew was the mayor’s office.
Inside, the mayor introduced himself and forced the errand of rescuing Pippi on me. Flashing me a smile, Abbott (the mayor’s assisstant) escorted me out. I talked to the townsfolk. Apparently zombies were running loose. If horror movies had taught me anything, it was that zombies congregated in boneyards, so I decided that, before entering the lion’s den, I would upgrade my weaponry and get some Gatorade to go with it.
I entered Podunk’s Department store. I took all the money from my account (along with the money I had looted from Wally’s unconsious form) and went to the top floor, which is the pet shop. All the animals had escaped, except for the canary I wanted to give Mom. The salesman said it was 85 dollars. I, being a sensible person, dissented. He then made a counteroffer: $0. So, of course, being a sensible person, took it and went to the Sporting Goods section. I decided I’d save up for the 500 dollar Wooden Bat, instead of the 120 dollar Slingshot. I then left and pawned off the OJ I had in my pocket. I then decided to deposit all but 39 dollars of my money, the $39 being for a hotel stay. I then walked over to the hotel and transacted business. Good night…
As I exited the Podunk Motel 6, I wondered what in the name of heck I was going to do next. First, I had a seven-year-old girl trapped in the graveyard, who was probably more scared than the English language can tell, and on the other, we have a Mother’s Day present to give to Mom. I realized a scared to death little girl was more important than observing a holiday that wasn’t for another few days anyway, and started south again. I mingled with a man hidden in the bushes, and he attacked me, very slowly, smelling like, well, death, and groaned. With all my horror movie experience, I ascertained that this was, in fact, the living dead, AKA a zombie. Being mature enough to understand that zombies were something designed to entertain and scare us, I would’ve normally just thought this guy was pulling my chain. However, my house had recently been ransacked by ghosts and I had also began talking to animals, so I was willing to accept weirder and weirder stuff all the time. I began to smash (or should I say SMAAAASH?) his head in with my now red Wiffle Bat, and, surprise surprise, his head came clean off, like, I really don’t know. But it was gross. So I continued south into the boneyard anyway, despite dry heaving a few times. When I stepped through the creaky (and cliche) gate, I smelled the distinct scent of… ew… rotting flesh. This is really revolting, and I want to leave ASAP. So I began to run southeast, the east, then northwest. Not knowing where I was going, I tripped, and fell down a very long set of stairs. Wait… stairs? Battered and bruised, I looked up. I appeared to be subterranean, next to a big stone archway. I appear to have fallen into a mausoleum. I walked over to the farthest casket, and (fortunately), it was empty. Or was it? I saw a red-headed form not unlike the Wendy’s girl pop from the casket. It was Pippi. And, mercifully, she appeared to be still living. She didn’t smell that bad. I’m surprised she didn’t die of lack of oxygen in that casket. Oh, well, I’m gonna count my blessings.
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It was nice to be out of that coffin, even if the air does smell like dead people. And I like that Ninten rescued me. I mean, it could be some other mean, evil dude just in it for the reward.
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Dude, I am SO only doing this for the reward.
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Anyway, Ninten said he’d give me fighting lessons, so we went to the store to get me a weapon. He ended up buying himself a Wooden Bat, but he also went splitsies with me on a Slingshot, which I took. We then exited and went north. A man with overalls and glasses jumped out of the bushes. He looked like he had a MAJOR headache. He attempted to stab me with a pitchfork. Ninten showed me how to aim the slingshot, but before he could say more than, “You gotta pull…” I’d attacked the figure, and hit him right between the eyes. His glasses shattered, and several pieces went in his eyes. That must have hurt. He screamed anyhow. Ninten seemed very impressed. 
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Whoa. I am so NOT doing this for the reward anymore. Pippi just completely took out Wally in one hit. A small girl. Versus a grown man. Common sense says Pippi would not win, but darned if she didn’t. I want to keep her around for a while, but her mom must be frantic by now. So, I told her her lessons were complete and she had to go home. She told me there was one thing she wanted to do first. So, I heeded her, and we started off towards the canary reserve that was on the west side of town. We reached our destination without incedent. But… there was a man there. A POACHER! DIE, thief! I began to bash his skull in. He took out pepper spray. What is he going to do with tha… AUGH! 
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Dear God, Ninten. Don’t do that. He’s not a poacher! He’s a sort of park ranger. He explained this to Ninten, who apologized. He (the ranger dude) told us Laura (a canary) had lost her child. I knew what it was like to be a missing child, so I reached into Ninten’s pocket and brought out the canary. The ranger said it was Laura’s child. Ninten looked sullen. We brought the canary to Laura. She began to sing.
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It was the second five notes of that lullaby, I knew it…