I have had the idea for this story a long while ago after I had a weird dream about the Haunted Mansion characters being in an old sitcom. I liked the idea, and my dearest friend/editor Aquarian Wolf encouraged me to go for it and write up a fanfic based on it. So, here it is. And once again, I want to thank AW for helping encourage me to write it, and to all my other HM friends who liked the idea. Enjoy!

A large black cloud swirled over the small town of Liberty Square. A storm was approaching the sleepy little New England town fast, although it was not unusual. Most residents actually found it peculiar when there was a sunny day. It was a quaint little village with cobblestone alleys and houses made of brick and clapboard; it looked just like a postcard of the Hudson River Valley in the 1700s. Though it had changed and modernized with the times, it still retained that quiet pre-Revolutionary look.

But with the happy, quaint ambience of the little village, there loomed one solemn cold face: a sprawling gothic mansion at the end of town. It held an ominous presence with its large walls of brick and stone, and most residents rarely even dared to pass by it. It had been abandoned for at least a hundred years; or so the people had thought. When actually, if one crossed the threshold to this large house, and glimpsed within in its facade, they would see that it is actually a tenant complex. Yes, a ghostly tenant house, where ghosts and ghouls of every size and time era reside.

The sky seemed to open up and rain began to downpour heavily. A lone figure dashed up to the mansion and hurried inside out of the rain. The figure was a handsome young man with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. He adjusted his suit and tie as he stepped inside the mansion and started up the stairwell. The man was the ghost of George Gracey.

George Gracey had dwelled within the large ghostly tenant house for a few years. He was a young aristocrat from the early-1900s who had hanged himself when he lost everything in the stock market crash of 1929. Looking back on it, George realized just how stupid and foolish the whole act was; he realized that no amount of money had been worth his life. After his death, he had haunted his house for many years until it was demolished, and lost his happy haunting ground. After a year of searching, he finally had stumbled upon the mansion, and now had an apartment within the building, renting it from the grumpy old Mr. Grumby.

In the afterlife, George still had continued to work: he ran the Gracey Funeral Parlor at the edge of town, along with his lovely secretary Miss April/December. Miss April was usually a very sweet and demure woman, yet her haggy December side took over whenever she was furious. The two masqueraded as mortals, in order not to scare off their living customers.

Ascending up the stairs to his apartment, George bumped into the lovely Miss Lily O'Malley. Miss O'Malley was a young radiant woman, who had died when she was only 28. In her mortal life she had formerly been a tightrope walker at a circus; until one day the rope snapped while performing her act over a river of crocodiles.

From the first day George had met the young woman when he moved into the building, he was absolutely entranced by her beauty and personality: the way her brown hair was styled into a messy bun with tendrils; her bright sparkling hazel eyes; her lilting voice and musical laugh; her bright wit and intelligence. He was absolutely captivated by her in every way. He longed to tell her how he had felt, yet every time he met her, he would act like a shy schoolboy or just randomly babble on.

Lily's bright eyes caught Gracey ascending up the stairs. "Hello George!" She playfully twirled the orange-cream colored parasol she held in her hands.

"H-hi, Lily!" George stammered, feeling flustered once again just being in her presence.

"How are things going down at the parlor?" She gave off a bright smile that always dazzled George.

"Oh...everything's fine," he replied meekly. He was still entranced by the young woman's smile.

"That's great. Oh by the way, I'm sorry Brudus broke into your apartment last night. I should never take my sight off that croc."

"No, it's quite alright." Brudus was the crocodile that had devoured Lily and kept him as a pet around in her apartment. Occasionally, the large reptile would break loose and wreak havoc in some of the neighboring apartments. George remembered waking up one night and found the crocodile sitting at the foot of his bed to his surprise.

"Well, I think I have to be going,"Lily stated. "I have to teach another class about the tricks of tightrope-walking."

She began to descend the stairs, when George realized that this was probably his last chance to tell her for another day. He was tired of keeping his emotions to himself and not saying how he felt. He felt it was time to finally tell her "Wait! Lily!" he shouted.

Lily turned around and stared back at him with her deep hazel eyes. "Yes, George?"

"I wanted to tell you that..." Gracey then felt as if his mouth suddenly went numb. He tried to say it, but it seemed the words didn't want to escape his throat. "I just wanted to say...that, um...well, for a long time now...I feel that we should..." He knew he was completely butchering what he wanted to say and now was just babbling on. "What I'm trying to say is that, from the first day I met you, I always felt..."

"I know what you mean, George," Lily gave a coy smile. She tried hard to suppress her giggles from Gracey's flustered nature.

"You do?" George asked surprised.

"Of course. You don't think I found how you felt quite obvious by now," she giggled. "How about after I'm done teaching my class tonight, we head out for a walk in the graveyard behind the house?"

"That would be great!"

"Great! She you then." With that, Lily gave George a playful bop on the head with her parasol before heading back down the stairs.

Gracey was in absolute joy. It felt so great that he had finally told her. And now that he would even be going for a small stroll around the cemetery with her, yet. Nothing could spoil this joyous day at all. Except for maybe...

"Oooh, Georgie!" a voice cried out down the hall.

"Oh, lord no..." Gracey mumbled. Turning around he expected to find what he knew the source of the high-pitched voice was - it was Emily, the local nymphomaniac tenant. Emily had died as a young bride, still in her wedding dress, after being jilted at the alter. It was apparent that for the years George had resided in the mansion, she had a huge crush on him. It seemed that no matter what, she was always trying to rope him into marrying her.

George wouldn't have minded her so much if the bride hadn't been so obnoxious and annoying; she was the perfect stereotype of every empty-headed high school cheerleader. And what was even more frustrating was her attempts to lure him into marrying her. On one trip when Emily had called him up to fix a lightbulb for her, he found a preacher hiding in the closet, ready to go the minute Emily gave the signal. Another unforgettable moment was the time she rang his doorbell and ambushed him, throwing rice in his eyes and blinding him; all the while attempting to drag him into the carriage that was waiting to head off to the chapel.

It almost sort of became a routine for George whenever he got home to expect her waiting for him. And he tried whatever way possible to escape her.

"Oh, George," she squeaked. "I just made a lovely fried vulture dinner for two tonight. Maybe if you weren't busy, you could come on up? And then we could go for a romantic walk together afterwards."

"Oh...um, no thanks," George replied, knowing that there would mostly likely be another preacher hiding in the closet or the walk would end at the church. "I have, uh...lots of paperwork to do tonight. You know, financial things for the parlor. Things aren't going all that well; it's been kind of dead. Ha, ha...dead. That's a funny one."

George continued walking up to his apartment, but Emily was persistent and certainly wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Well, how about lunch and a jog?" the bride almost pleaded.

"No, I'm sorry." George quickened his pace and dashed to the door as fast as he could.

"Breakfast and a bicycle ride!"

"Sorry." Gracey tried to quickly pass through the wall into his apartment, but the briefcase he held stopped him. He whipped out his door key from his pocket in a flash and scrambled to unlock the door.

"A croissant and a phone call! Some cookie crumbs and the daily jumble!"

Getting the key into the lock, he hurried into his apartment in record time, escaping the annoying bride again for another day.

George's ghostly apartment was a pretty modest little place. A cobweb-draped living room filled with Victorian furniture, a standard kitchen, two bedrooms, and one bathroom. He was usually tidy in the appearance of his apartment, but left the dust and cobwebs to give it that ghostly "unlived-in" look. However, the living room was more than messy with cigar butts, empty beer and whiskey bottles, and old copies of newspaper strewn about - all leftover from his Uncle Edward who was passed out on the sofa.

George's Uncle Edward was an elderly bearded man who was once a wealthy and respected diplomat in his time, but died in a dynamite explosion after he crossed one of his rivaling ambassadors. Now, he was nothing more but a drunken, womanizing gambler. George told him he would let him stay in his apartment for a little while, because shortly after he died his estate was demolished and the former diplomat had nowhere else to go. Edward promised he would only stay for a few weeks; but those few weeks were now seven months and counting.

Gracey found him passed out on the sofa again in his favorite attire: a tuxedo shirt and coat from the waist up; red and white striped boxer shorts and socks from the waist down. He snored loudly, sleeping off the alcohol he had just consumed a short while ago.

George was starting to get annoyed with his uncle staying and taking advantage of his apartment. Whenever he was out, Edward would sometime invite a bunch of his drinking buddies up to George's place for a party. And most of the time during the day, he just lied around and slept the drink off.

Gracey walked over and gently tapped his uncle on the shoulder. "Edward," he gently said in a soft voice. No response came from the drunk. George gave another swift tap. All this did was make the uncle snort and turn over. "EDWARD!" George shouted at the top of his lungs, finally awaking the dazed and confused diplomat.

"What! Who! Oh, hiya George boy!" Edward responded, his ghostly breath (if he had any) reeked of a combination of beer and rum.

George took a confident smug stride around the room, surveying all the damage. "Another party I assume?"

"Only a little one. I just invited a couple of close friends." The former ambassador sounded very uneasy of answering the question.

"How many?"

"Fifteen."

George let out an exasperated sigh. He loved his uncle dearly, but this was too much. He knew he had to go somewhere, but there was nobody else he could go to. Cousin Huet threw him out after the man smacked his wife on the rear; Aunt Lydia tossed him out after he had raided her entire liquor cabinet (he argued that he needed "his medicine"); and his Great Aunt Victoria forced him to leave after a bunch of his friends almost torched her haunt to the ground.

"Edward, I thought I told you the last time, I do not want more than five people in here for a party while I am away," George insisted.

Uncle Edward just simply ignored his nephew's plea and took a long swig from a flask of bourbon he stored under the sofa. "So how was the day at the parlor?"

"Alright I guess. Same old, same old. Miss April went into another one of her mood swings again."

Edward just chuckled and grinned. "Yeah, good old April. But then I guess all women get like an old hag every now and then." The old man laughed hysterically at his own joke.

George just shot an icy silent glare. He hated his uncle's sexist jokes on women. As a matter fact, he hated all of his uncle's jokes because they were mostly sexist or racist.

"Aw, come on George boy. Lighten up! You take things too seriously," Edward insisted. He raised the flask over to Gracey. "Here, have some bourbon."

"No thanks, I pass," he answered waving the bottle away. "So anything interesting happened here today? Besides you getting into a drunken stupor and falling on your can as usual."

"Oh yeah, loads," Edward replied with a grin. "First that landlord of yours stopped by, Mr. Grizzly, or whatever his name is. Came pounding on the door and demanding the rent again. I just persuaded him to hold off until another two weeks."

That was one thing George had to admit about his uncle that came in handy: with his background as a politician and diplomat, he always managed to talk his way out of any situation.

"Then that batty upstairs neighbor Mary came down here with her flock of birds again!" Edward ranted. "She drove me the hell crazy!"

George gave a wide grin and thought to himself: good old Crazy Mary. Crazy Mary (a.k.a. Mary Gilbert) was the elderly ghost who lived upstairs with hundreds of birds. Before she went insane, Mary was married to a wealthy shipbuilder named George Wilson. The couple had a very bitter relationship between each other, which ended one night when Mary murdered Wilson; she took an axe to his skull. Though she had gotten away with the heinous crime, her sanity began to deteriorate afterwards and the birds became her only friends. She spent most of the time locked away in her large house, and wandered around with her birds, rose in hand. She finally perished after she went off the edge, literally: she had gone so insane she tried to fly with her birds and leapt out the fourth story window.

Edward continued on with his rant about the old woman. "She came knocking on the door, screaming her usual nonsense sayings, like "Feed the birds! Tuppence a bag!", "The government!", or "Block of cheese!" Anyway, she came storming in here with her whole bloody flock of birds and leapt up onto the dining room table, shrieking "Fly my pretties! Fly!" And the next thing I know, all those damned birds are dive bombing me all around the bloomin' room! It took me an hour before I managed to shoo the old broad and the birds out of here with a broom."

George rolled onto the floor laughing hysterically at his uncle recounting the event. Wiping away a tear, he remarked, "Ah, you got to love old Mary."

"I for sure as hell don't!" Edward snapped. "That old broad needs to be locked away."

"Aww, but you have to admit she's still a fun person. After all, without her this place wouldn't be the same," George commented, trying to stop his chuckling.

"Well, at least she needs to find something to do other than those damn birds so she doesn't bother us!" Edward grumbled. "After all, she might get pretty lonely with those screeching vultures being the only thing keeping her company. Maybe if she found a guy to go around with, she wouldn't act so bloody insane." Edward stopped for a minute and pondered a thought. "You know, that landlord guy Mr. Gribblby..."

"Grumby," George corrected.

"Whatever," Edward commented. "Anyway, that guy seems to be pretty lonely. Maybe the two..."

"Oh no!" George shouted. He stopped his uncle before he could even finish his thought. Edward was known to hatch all kinds of crazy schemes and ideas - and all of them always blew back up in his face. "I don't want you even thinking about it! Besides, I don't think Mr. Grumby is the kind of person who really wants to be around with someone."

Mr. Grumby the landlord was an extremely old ghostly codger. He was bald, had a long white beard, and went about his way in an old-fashioned wheelchair. The old man had a nasty, grumpy streak to him, and preferred to be alone all the time. He was on the verge of going completely deaf, and always carried his large hearing horn around with him.

"Oh, but George boy!" Edward replied. "Even if it doesn't work out, it could be so much fun just watching what trouble it could inflict." A devilish grin slipped across his old, bearded face.

"No!" George shouted. "Now if you excuse me, I have to get ready to meet Lily downstairs in a bit."

"Good for you George. I knew you would snag that cute tightrope broad!"

Gracey rolled his eyes at his uncle's comment. He hurried to get ready and made sure he was looking his best. He had a feeling that this would be a night of pure magic for him and Lily.

All character names are based on the Haunted Mansion's Ghostly Gallery.