A/N: This song spoofs "Hard Day's Night" by The Beatles. The Haunted Mansion belongs to Disney. Willy the Whisp is Booster's character, and I give him a huge THANK YOU for letting me use him in this story. Be sure to read and review his new Haunted Mansion fan fiction, "Haunted Mansion: Culmination." It's a frightfully good read!

Across the Mansion: It's Hard Work to Fright

In between the tombstones the chilly fog slunk, its vaporous trail mimicking the wraiths that sailed up into the dark starry sky. It was a chilly Fall Saturday night, which meant the Mansion was busier than usual. The only evening that could top it was Halloween, which every ghost looked forward to. Spooking foolish mortals was a treat for the dead, and the living loved the scares, too. Kids and adults alike screamed and giggled at the antics of the mansion's haunts, knowing nothing would ever hurt them, but still getting a good fright all the same. The greatest amount of ethereal activity happened in the enormous graveyard, where living beings had no choice but to walk amongst the dead. Under the light of a full moon, this was where the ghosts thought they could really shine.

Each spirit had his or her own trick. Manny Festation careened through the hilly cemetery on his bicycle, dodging between couples; Asher T. Ashes poured himself a cup of tea while invisible; a couple of opera singers put on a rousing show; and the hitchhikers were sure to hop into cars as they sped away. All nine hundred and ninety-nine grim, grinning ghosts gave their ghoulish, ghastly gimmicks their best eerie effort because they all loved their ghostly gigs.

But no one got more kicks out of haunting than Willy the Wisp.

Up he'd pop from behind a headstone, bony fingers curled, his bulging eye rolling in his leering skull, and a shrieking cackle leaping past his yellow teeth. Before his victim could finish screaming, he'd sink down into the soil and spring up again behind another grave with a "Boo!" All night long, Willy—whose hide and seek record had never been beaten—burst out from his hiding spot, scared another gaggle of guests speechless, and then vanished. The Ghost Host was perhaps the only resident who could give mortals a bigger shock… not that Willy would ever admit to that, but it was a great source of pride for the paranormal prankster.

"AHH!" Willy lunged at gawking teenage boy, making the pock-faced youth scramble. "Ah, what's-a-matter, man? You look like you've seen a ghost!" He snickered and slipped into an open casket, only to spring up by a girl holding a thin, glowing box in her hand. "Boo!"

There was no squeal or even a gasp. Eyes glazed over and dry from not blinking in nearly a minute, she didn't glance up from the shining screen. Her thumbs were a blur over a tiny keypad as they typed out messages at lightning speed.

He tried again, this time screeching right into her ear. "YAH-HA-HA!" He even waggled his fingers and dangled spiders from his nostrils.

At this disturbance, the teen barely turned her head, but did manage to roll her eyes. Afterwards, they went right back to the screen. "Gawd!" she gushed. "I'm, like, texting here, geesh! Some people are, like, so rude!" Scoffing, she went right back to typing. "Srsly!" Willy couldn't figure out how she managed to leave out the vowels when she said it. "Really, you should totally get a real job, 'stead of, like, jumping out at people like a freak. God, this place is soooo stupid!" Now completely ignoring him, she slowly made her way down the graveyard path, not bothering to keep an eye on where she was going. "They should, like, demolish this place and put in a theme park, or something. That would be, like, full of awesome… AHHH!"

Willy winced as she tripped over a protruding arm that was busy trying to brick up a mausoleum from the inside. Her device was shattered on a spade, springs and wires dangling out like the intestines of a samurai that had just performed seppuku. At first she looked like she was about to cry, but then she shrugged and left the pieces in the dirt and walked away. A short distance away, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a cell phone. "Hey Shelly? Ohmygawd, I just totally trashed my Samsung! Gah, this sucks! Now I have to ask dad for a new one again! Ugh, and he totally won't understand either, y'know?" Her chattering faded in the darkness, becoming part of the night sounds with the yowling cats and hooting owls.

Shaking his hideous head in disbelief, Willy sighed and glided over to the cemetery's band. The ragtag bunch of musicians played their mish mash of instruments in something resembling a distant kin of melody. The medieval trumpeter and flutist tried to keep in time with a seventeenth century xylophone player, who in turn was having a beat race with a ghost drumming on a coffin, and the harp player was strumming his own tune without any consideration for the others. Trying to conduct the group was an old Scottish bagpiper, whose serious attempt at music was paid no mind.

Willy took a seat on a stone next to the bagpiper and cupped his chin in his hands and moaned. "Man, I just don't get these kids today!" He threw up his skeletal hands in exasperation, making the stray cats he was sitting between scramble for a safer place to nap. "Seems like I'm scarin' less and less lately. It doesn't make any sense!" He took off his threadbare top hat and scratched his head. Black widows skittered through his wild white hair to avoid his fingers. He put his hat back on and sniffed, snorting a tiny arachnid back up his nose.

Taking his lips off the pipe, the Scottish ghost gave a nod. "Aye, I hear ya loud and clear, laddie. These young people today, spoiled rrrotten wi' nae rrespect for their elders." His R's rolled off his tongue with more ease than notes out of his instrument. "Back in my day, we didna have these fancy toys an' such." He spat on the ground in disgust. "All we had grrrowin' up were sheep and sticks. And we were happy!" He gave another fierce nod, scowling with sheer contempt at an entire generation. Going back to his bagpipes, he continued playing, leaving Willy to sulk alone.

"You know, it just isn't right." Willy continued talking, not caring if anyone was listening. "I love this place, man." He leapt up onto a casket lid. "You know our mansion is weird, wild, and freaky! We've got the grooviest ghouls and ghoulies in the world hauntin' this home, but sometimes…sometimes…" He slumped and sighed. Looking to the band, he said, "Guys, give me a beat, something fun to get me out of this funk."

Their tune changed to one a little more hip and less haphazard, although off kilter squeals and squeaks still erupted. Willy bobbed his head to the music. When he found the rhythm, he rasped, "Our active retirement is a boo-filled blast, but every once in a while, I get down because even for me…" He jumped up on top of the roof of a mausoleum and sang:

"It's hard work to fright, and I'm a-howlin' like a dog!"

Hell Hound the skeletal dog howled in the distance.

"It's hard work to fright; I'm a-creepin' through the fog!"

He slunk down into the mists and sprang up in front of a young couple, who took off with a scream.

"But then I scare the hell outta you with my moanin' and boos,

Under the full moon's light!

"You know I prowl all night to get you scared enough to pee your pants,

And it's worth it just to hear you scream, "It's gonna get me!" every time!

I rise from the earth with a moan, 'cause when you think you're alone,

I will mess with your head!"

He popped up in front of a group of children and they squealed and scattered.

"When I haunt, I make myself a real fright!

When I haunt, hearing you screaming all through the night, yeah!

It's hard work to fright, and I'm a-howlin' like a dog.

It's hard work to fright; I'm a-creepin' through the fog.

But then I scare the hell outta you with my moanin' and boos,

Under the full moon's light!"

Feeling his vigor coming back, he vanished and jumped up in front of more guests, delighting in their terror. "Booooo!"

"I shake some chains and I groan, and when you think you're alone,

You know I'll be spooky!

When I haunt, I make myself a real fright!

When I haunt, hearing you screaming all through the night, yeah!

"It's hard work to fright, and I'm a-howlin' like a dog."

"AWWWOOOOOO!"

"It's hard work to fright; I'm a-creepin' through the fog.

But then I scare the hell outta you with my moanin' and boos,

Under the full moon's light!

"You know I wanna fright!

"You know I wanna fright!"

Cackling with ghoulish glee, he watched as mortals scrambled for the gates. He had to admit he was feeling better about the whole fiasco with "texting girl." "Yep," he grinned and cracked his knuckles, "I've still got it!" Humming to himself, he disappeared down into the earth, preparing for his next victim.