Not a soul in Arlen could argue that Sugarfoot's had the best hush puppies in town. Fried in trans-fat to a golden crisp and seasoned to perfection, they were tantalizing enough for Shaggy to indulge himself in not only seconds or mere thirds, but tenths. This wouldn't be much of a problem, except for the fact that both Scooby-Doo and Bobby were able to match his ten plates. After a whopping combined total of thirty plates and to all of their dismay, the kitchen had run out of batter. The Hill family and Mystery Incorporated started their day with brunch; a necessary fuel for the busy day ahead of them.
"Eat up boys, you'll need it. I've got plenty of decorations for you to set up when we get back home," Hank said, cutting into the remaining third of his juicy steak.
"Are you gonna be rebuilding houses today, dad?" Bobby, seated next to Scooby and Shaggy, asked Hank.
"Well son, first Velma and I are gonna talk to Dale and see if he's done being crazy," Hank explained back. Daphne and Fred sat together, sharing a breakfast hash. Not being able to hear, Daphne had been spending most of her time focussing on her other senses, becoming more keen to them. She could taste all the individual flavors that danced together on her tongue. She could feel the lively dancers being washed away by a refreshing gulp of ice-cold water. She could appreciate the pure, cleansed pallet left on her tongue – a canvas waiting to be painted again with the next bite. Her inability to hear had begun allowing her other senses to flourish. Her peripherals picked up on small details she'd normally ignore. She saw an old, heavy-set, balding man in the kitchen yelling at someone wearing a navy blue cloak. Among the brighter senses, she also felt something else, an energy flowing inside her. It felt malleable, but she didn't yet understand how to shape it.
"Luanne, sweety, why don't you take Fred and Daphne to see the other haunted houses in the neighborhood today," Peggy suggested. Velma removed her green notebook and wrote a quick translation for Fred and Daphne.
Launne took a bite of her pancakes, "sure aunt Peggy, that sounds like fun," she spat with a mouth full of food.
'Luanne, finish chewing before you speak," Peggy barked.
"Sorry," Luanne said after choking down the remainder of her bite. Everyone continued eating.
"So Mr. Hill," Velma started.
"You can call meh Hank," Hank replied, "Mr. Hill's mah father Cotton."
"Of course, Hank, you're propane-style, if you don't mind me asking, is it something you learned from your father, Cotton?"
"Actually it was gifted to me by my sensei, Buck Strickland," Hank replied, pushing up his glasses, "same guy who owns this place."
"Like no kidding, your sensei can cook and he knows super crazy jutsu," Shaggy said, "then, like, are you learning the style yourself, Bobby?" Bobby looked down.
"No, jutsu's not really my thing."
"Bobby here can't use his chakra," Hank said.
"Hank, you're embarrassing the boy. Sure he can't use chakra, and he'll never be able to learn the propane-style, and he hasn't unlocked his Sharingan, and he's definitely never gonna be as gifted at Boggle as his mother, but he's kind, and loving-" Peggy defended, Bobby's face became pink and sweaty.
"Mom, not in front of the Scooby gang," Bobby whimpered, burying his face in his hands while kicking Peggy's leg under the table. The man Daphne had seen in the kitchen strolled over to the table.
"Hey ol' top, how're them hush puppies treatin' you and your… drum circle?" The man said, punctuating his question with a devilish grin.
"Hey there Mr. Strickland, these're just some folk stayin' in mah den while I fix up their van," Hank replied.
"I didn't know you hung out with these sorts of kids Hank, you shoulda told me! I have a youthful side myself, ya know," Buck said, winking at Hank.
"I, uh, I have no clue what ya mean, heh heh" Hank awkwardly said, "anyways, I'll see you tomorrow at work."
"Nonsense Hank, you have to help your guests with their van. You're my golden goose so tell you what Hank, why don't you take the week off on me. Didn't you say yer neighborhood was doin' some sort of a haunted house competition?" Buck said.
"H'yep, everyones competin' for the grand prize, an all-terrain adamantium-coated rideable lawnmower with beer holders and cushioned seats," Hank said, drooling a little as he fell into a daydream about the mower, "but it's alright Mr. Strickland, I'm more than happy to come into work."
"There's no way uncle Hank's haunted house can lose, especially with aunt Peggy's spooky sculpture," Luanne excitedly announced. Buck seemed enthralled by this.
"Well, what kind of a spooky sculpture are we talkin' about?" Buck asked Peggy.
"I'm glad you asked! This year I thought to myself, 'what are kids these days really scared of,' and then it hit me," Peggy said, pausing for a moment, "what's scarier to today's youth than the face of notorious child predator Jeffrey Epstein? So I took three classes and learned how to make a perfect wax figure, I call it my Magnum Opus."
"Oh, Hank's wife, you are a genius! You sure know how to pick em' ol' top. Sounds like you got a lot on your plate, so what do ya say?" Buck said, looking back to Hank.
"H'well… I suppose a week wouldn't hurt… it would increase the odds of me winnin' that mower…" Hank reasoned, rubbing the back of his head, "well alright, but when I get back I'm waxin' all the propane tanks."
"You already wax them everytime, ol' top," Buck replied.
"I know. Triple-coat," Hank argued.
"You drive a hard bargain…" Buck said, "you got yerself a deal Hank."
Buck left the group to finish their meal, returning to the kitchen.
...
It was unutterably terrifying. Each and every detail of Jeffrey Epstein's face had been meticulously scorched into the wax of the haunting figure. The creation had such a negative emotional aura that Shaggy and Scooby felt the need to wash their eyes after seeing it.
"Like, do we even need more decorations? This thing's already creepy enough," Shaggy complained, keeping a four foot minimum distance from the wax figure. It appeared ready to come alive at any moment and walk off it's stand to plunge a butcher's knife into someone's skull. Hank and Velma had gone to Dale's while Luanne took Fred and Daphne around the neighborhood. In the garage, Shaggy, Scooby, and Bobby were preparing to move Peggy's magnum opus.
Bobby threw a tarp over the monstrosity, temporarily relieving Shaggy and Scooby of its horrors. "Hang on guys, I just need to find my dad's drill thingy," Bobby said, scanning the tools on Hank's pegboard, "we gotta fasten mom's figure to the floor in the haunted house."
"Like, how about we tie it to a brick and drop it in the ocean, ha-hoo," Shaggy laughed with Scooby, "say, where're we setting this stuff up anyways?"
"See that tent in the front yard?" Bobby asked, motioning to a small red tent out front, "that's the haunted house." He tossed the drill into a small toolbox holding a few other tools and passed it to Scooby.
"R'is this thing even gonna fit in there?" Scooby asked as Shaggy and Bobby lifted the wax figure at its base. They carefully walked over to the tent, Scooby following behind.
"Trust me, it's bigger on the inside," Bobby said, unzipping the flap to the tent.
Scooby saw it first. Neverending insanity stretching into oblivion. In some directions, unspeakable horrors, in others, nightmares not even the darkest soul could dream up. Scooby looked up to find a ceiling of fleshy living bodies melded together. Liquid flesh oozed down, casting long strands of vile slime to the ground. Recognizable and unrecognizable limbs writhed about, the entire ceiling locked in a state of constant torture. Many mouths moaned en masse, making their misfortunate misery known to all who would listen; mourning not a loss, but their very existence. Shaggy crept into the tent. He glanced left. As he did, he continued looking left and left and left for what felt like an eternity. He had caught himself in some sort of a loop. Shaggy crept into the tent. He glanced left. As he did he, continued looking left and left and left for what felt like-
"Release," Bobby said. Shaggy snapped back to reality and fell to the ground, aching all over, his body convulsively shaking, "sorry about that, Dad rigged this place with all sorts of genjutsu traps to freak people out."
"This place is, like, totally awful man. How far in do we have to go?" Shaggy asked, recollecting himself and standing up.
"Reah, r'his is terrifying," Scooby said hopping down from Bobby's arms, which he had lept into at some point during the terror.
"Don't worry guys, mom said she wanted it at the entrance so it would be the first thing everyone sees," Bobby said, setting the wax statue down with Shaggy. To the right, a sea of corrupt thought. Shaggy could feel it seeping into him, tainting his mind. The pit of sappy darkness gyrated left and right in a noncoherent rhythm, out from which spires of bones reached to and impaled the fleshy ceiling, causing an endless stream of rich blood to run down. The floor was made of the coldest, greyest concrete. Cracks ran throughout the concrete like rivers, dotted with bloodshot eyeballs. Spiders of all varieties scuttled about, going in and out of cracks. Ten feet away, Scooby noticed a figure cowering, whimpering. He approached it slowly, but stopped in his tracks as it turned around. A human centipede. At least a dozen people sloppily sewn together, ass to lip, let out guttural cries of an unthinkable sorrow. The pitiful monstrosity pulled itself slowly closer.
"Kill us, please, just kill us already-" it groaned, burping up a green fluid. This was enough to send Shaggy running.
"Zoinks," he yelled, running in place and throwing up a cloud of dust. He took off in a flurry deeper into the house alongside Scooby. The creature began clawing at its own face, burrowing its slimy fingers deep within its eye sockets. It then tore all the meat off its face with a tug. Underneath, the face of a young boy with long brown hair grimaced.
"Too much?" The boy laughed.
"No way, you nailed it Joseph," Bobby giggled, taking off in the direction Shaggy and Scooby ran.
...
Bobby later found Shaggy and Scooby hiding inside a giant skull nestled in a valley between two mountains of rotting dead rats. The skull was dotted with strange markings written in blood.
"Guys, I finally found you," Bobby said, jogging over to the skull, "that thing back there was only my friend in a mask, it's okay!"
Shaggy crawled out from the skull cautiously, carrying a convulsing Scooby in his arms. They were stranded deep in a disgusting forest made entirely of tall, fleshy grass. Each blade of grass was a long, slimy, wriggling tentacle that would wrap itself around anyone who brushed against it. On touch, the grass would invoke the worst thoughts or memories a person had buried deep within their subconscious.
"Like, what kind of haunted house is this man? Scooby-Doo touched one of those weird wormy dudes and he's been like this ever since," Shaggy said, looking down to Scooby who foamed at the mouth.
"He'll be alright, all of dad's genjutsu here is temporary," Bobby said, petting Scooby. He noticed the markings on the giant skull behind Shaggy and his playful expression dropped, replaced with a hurricane of fear, confusion, and shock.
"Like, that face sure isn't reassuring," Shaggy panicked.
"Those markings weren't on the blueprints…" Bobby uttered, stiff as a board.
"Like you mean all the dicks drawn in red paint?" Shaggy asked, looking back at the skull. Bobby took a step back.
"Dad would never go off the blueprint, especially not to draw schlongs all over the decor," Bobby said to himself, grabbing his stomach. His skin turned pale.
"Like, can we get out of here man? Something doesn't feel right," Shaggy asked as he began hyperventilating. In the distance, an ominous chanting repeated itself. The language inflicted a familiar burning sensation to Shaggy's ear. Scooby let out a sharp whimper.
"This isn't right, none of this makes sense," Bobby said, looking around frantically. The demonic chanting echoed from all directions. They began towards the entrance, but in their path rose a wall of flames, out from which steppeda large silhouette. It took another step forward, bringing it's deformed face into the light. The magnum opus. The half molten wax figure of Jeffrey Epstein wearing a navy blue cloak glared at the three. It looked each one of them up and down. A puddle of wax grew at the feet of Epstein, whose distorted expression seemed to imply glee. In its right hand, it held a paint brush dripping with red paint.
"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu L'on-Staarr wgah'nagl fhtagn," the creature snarled with a wet rasp. It held the brush to the sky, then brought it to the ground in a flash, drawing a red cock.
"Ha-hoo, like Bobby, tell me that's another one of your friends," Shaggy said, fear wreaking from his voice.
"He seems like he wants to be more than friends," Bobby joked. The Jeffrey Epstein statue licked it's glossy lips. Behind the three, the thick jungle of the psychosis-inducing grass that took Scooby down blocked their escape. To their left, an unclimbable mountain of rodent carcasses. To the right, it narrowed from the infinite expanse of hell down to a hallway of doors and warped mirrors. They had two options: run or fight.
"Any chance you guys wanna use those crazy powers you took my dad down with?" Bobby asked, keeping his eyes on Epstein.
"Sorry little man, like, without Velma's special Scooby-Snax, we're just ordinary cowards," Shaggy's voice quivered. He threw Scooby's limp body over his shoulder just as the wax Epstein began charging forward, forcing them to run.
Epstein chased the three as they ran past the mountain of rat bodies and towards the hall of doors and mirrors. Their echoing footsteps were the only accent to the melody of wailing souls and the blazing inferno. Shaggy cut into an old wooden door on the right as Bobby continued straight down the hall, Epstein following close behind. He inched closer and closer, despite Bobby's feet carrying him as quickly as they possibly could.
"Git away from me," Bobby screached, throwing his fist into a mirror as he ran by. The mirror shattered and a hailstorm of glass shards dug into Epstein, who seemed unaffected and continued chasing Bobby.
"Great, now he's spikey too," Bobby said to himself, sweat racing down his forehead. The wax figure withdrew a crowbar as it ran after Bobby, and began swinging it like a maniac, coming mere inches from the back of Bobby's head.
