Bill sat on his grungy couch, slumped in a slop of his ever-festering sadness. After an hour of intense mental discourse, he'd finally worked up the motivation to make the effort to reach for the last pizza slice. He lunged forward with a pitiful groan, grasping at his coffee table in hopes the slice would find its way to his hand. A few half-empty Alamo Beer cans were knocked to the floor, causing small pools to seep into his carpet. He'd become nose blind to the wretched stench staining his home. He found his way to what felt like the slice and slurped it down in two bites without looking – savoring the short burst of dopamine. Bill sat back and got comfy again, still gasping for air after such an exertion of energy.

At that moment, while swallowing the last of his bite, Bill detected people walking down the street nearby. He turned to glance out the window from his trusty crack in the shades. Seeing Luanne, he jumped off the couch and went over to his washer machine. Atop it, blocking the lid, a small mound of stained wife-beaters and a navy blue cloak. Atop that mound, the most pristine: a semi-fresh wife-beater with a mere six stains. Perfect for guests. Bill took off his current undershirt and chucked it onto the pile, but it rolled off and fell behind the washer; lost, forgotten, stranded in a strange place outside of knowledge – Schrodinger's stained wife-beater.

He speed-walked over to the door, clinging to the hope they might knock. On his way, he noticed the final slice of pizza still resting in its box. For a moment, his stomach turned as his mind went through the possible things he'd slurped down earlier, but quickly he was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door.

"Mister Dauterive, are you in there? I wanna show my friends your haunted house," the muffled voice of Luanne said from outside. Bill's heart sank, he'd yet to begin building his haunted house.

Oh no, they'll never wanna visit me if I don't have my haunted house ready, Bill internally panicked, putting his back against the door.

"GOLLY, ANYONE ELSE SMELL A ROTTING CORPSE?" Fred's voice echoed. Bill grabbed a bottle from a basket full of cologne he kept on a shelf by his front door. He attempted to spray it but the bottle was empty. In an anxiety-induced rage, he launched the bottle at a wall, causing it to shatter. Finding another in the basket, Sexy Dragon's Blood, he began frantically spritzing it.

"Maybe he's not home. Common you guys, I'll show you my haunted house," Luanne announced, leading the group away. The door flung open and a thick aroma of Sexy Dragon's Blood and moldy Cheetos oozed out, enveloping the three and causing Daphne to barf a little in her mouth. Bill stood at the door.

"Wait, I'm here! Please, come and see my haunted house. I promise it's the scariest one on the block," Bill said, clasping his hands together with a pleading grin. The three looked at each other.

"Okay. Where's your tent, Mister Dauterive?" Luanne asked.

"Tent? What tent?" Bill said, looking around nervously.

"Well this year's competition everyone was putting their haunted houses in a tent," Luanne began.

"Nonsense, how can you call it a haunted house if it isn't even in a house?" Bill rebutted.

Luanne tried wrapping her head around the logic, but it was too much for her, "I guess so." She, Fred, and Daphne followed, holding their breath, as Bill lead them into his livingroom.

"Please, have a seat on the couch," Bill motioned to his sofa, where his butt imprint was deeply ingrained. Luanne sat down, followed by Fred and Daphne. All three of them sunk into the cushions. Bill looked at them and smiled.

"So… would you guys like any beverages?" Bill asked them. Luanne typed the question on her phone and showed it to Fred and Daphne.

"DO YOU HAVE ORANGE JUICE?" Fred asked.

"Well, no. I've got beer," Bill offered.

"Ooh, I'll take one," Luanne said, raising her hand. She used her phone again to ask if Fred or Daphne wanted one. Fred nodded yes.

Daphne realized that she was able to hear Bill's question and tried talking, "do you have water?" she fluently asked.

"Hey, you talked normal," Luanne observed, "can you hear again?"

"Things are still a little muffled, but I think I can pretty much understand you guys," Daphne said, adjusting her position on the lumpy couch that she couldn't help but sink deeply into.

"Sorry. Plumbings broke from the flooding so the tap don't work," Bill said, rubbing the back of his sweater head. Luanne noticed a few buckets of dark-red paint in the corner of the room.

"So where're all the haunted house decorations?" Luanne aked.

"I'm still working on the decorations part, I just gotta paint 'em," Bill said, looking down at the paint with an uncomfortable frown, "Ooh!" he suddenly exclaimed, snapping out of his depressive stare, "the best part of my haunted house isn't the decorations anyways. I'll be right back, stay there."

Bill shuffled off down the hall. The gang heard some banging noises punctuated by a thick thud and an "ow!" Suddenly, each person found themselves alone in the livingroom. The isolation dug into their skin and quickly rooted itself in their minds, probing for those nutritious feelings of loneliness and despair.

"Hey, where'd everybody go?" Luanne asked, looking around the now eerily baren room.

"Everybody left," Luanne's voice echoed back, "Lucky, Uncle Hank, and Peggy, the Scooby gang…"

"Why did they leave?" Luanne asked herself.

"Because they hate us…" Luanne's voice boomed in return. This was no ordinary solitude, this was advanced solitude. A chill slowly crept down Luanne's spine.

"Who hates us?" Luanne's quivered.

"Everybody," the ominous voice of Luanne returned. As she conversed with herself, she began noting dirty wife-beaters lying around the room.

"Why do they hate us?" Luanne asked, still confused as to what was going on.

"Because you're a toxic person. No one wants to be around you, and you'll never be a hairstylist," the voice said.

"That's not very nice, who are you anyways?" Luanne questioned.

"I'm you, Luanne. The more intelligent you who realized she was a failure and did what was right," Luanne replied. Everywhere she looked, another wife-beater haphazardly left on the floor or some piece of furniture.

"You finally got us car insurance?" Luanne excitedly replied.

"Fool," the voice angrily cried, "you don't need insurance, you need to stop wasting precious air and give up."

"Wait, I thought air was unlimited…" Luanne continued, becoming even more confused than before.

All the while, Fred also found himself alone in Bill's livingroom. When he noticed everyone else was gone, he jumped from the couch. Glancing out the window, everything seemed normal. The Mystery Machine sat parked in front of the Hill residence, still being berated by endless rainfall. Fred breathed a sigh of relief, but as he exhaled, the Mystery Machine began melting. By the time he finished his beath, all that remained was a teel puddle that ran down the street with the rest of the floodwater.

Fred let out a ghastly scream that neither he nor anyone else could hear. A sound so irrelevant in its existence, so unknown, that its isolated trek across the universe would end prematurely as it fizzled out from a lack of acknowledgment. When nobody's looking, physics is a lot weirder.

Looking down, Fred realized he'd peed himself. He looked back up to see that it was now raining stained wife-beaters. One fell over his face, blinding him. He ripped the undershirt from his face and chucked it, discovering he was now surrounded by a complete and udder darkness. The only thing Fred could perceive was himself and the onslaught of clothes showering from above. They didn't hit any ground, instead, Fred watched as they continued falling beneath him until they were too small and far away to see.

No clues, no Mystery Machine, no gang, how am I gonna solve a mystery like this? Fred thought to himself, sitting down and entering a fetal position. His warm, urine-soaked jeans, caused an uncomfortable chafe and putrid smell.

Daphne peered from Fred over to Luanne in shock. Luanne continued talking to herself while Fred rocked back and forth on the ground. This had been going on for about ten minutes. Daphne tried relentlessly to get their attention, but neither of them seemed to detect her presence. She decided to go find Bill, making her way down the hall and checking each room. All of them were disgusting in their own way, and all of them were vacant. In Bill's bedroom, his bed looked like a dirty laundry basket. It was unclear whether he even had a blanket or if he simply burrowed into the pile of dirty undershirts for warmth. Daphne picked one of the wife-beaters up with her nails, cautious not to let the nasty rag make contact with her skin. As she examined it, she noticed it seemed to slowly pulsate as if it were breathing. Moreso, she felt surrounded by Bill's presence while holding the thing.

She set the shirt back on Bill's bed and returned to the living room, where Fred's piss puddle had grown larger and Luanne was still engaged in a conversation with herself.

That bald guy had to have done something to them, is this a part of the haunted house? Daphne wondered. Much to her surprise, another thump sounded from Bill's room where she'd just been. Daphne bolted down the hall but ran face-first into Bill.

"Sorry, I- wait, please Luanne and Freddy are-" Daphne began explaining, but she was interrupted by Luanne.

"Daphne, Fred? Where'd you guys go?" Echoed from the livingroom. Anxiety sweat ran down Daphne's forehead. She glanced back into the livingroom. Fred and Luanne sat on the couch waiting patiently and there were no undershirts.

Could I have been… Daphne thought before Bill piped in.

"As I was saying, the best part of my haunted house is the candy," Bill announced, offering a bowl of various Halloween candies to the group. Daphne suddenly felt nauseous, had she imagined it all? She sat next to Fred, who noticed she seemed uncomfortable.

"Is everything okay, Daph?" Fred asked, looking her in the eyes. Raw dread flooded Daphne's body. Those weren't her Freddy's eyes, she could feel it. Someone else looked out from inside a hollow shell that looked like Fred.

"Everything's fine. I'm just feeling a little light-headed," she said, scootching away from Fred. Fred came closer, his eyes flashed white.

"You know Daph, whenever I'm feeling light-headed I just grill myself alive," Fred said, his voice becoming maniacal and warped. In the center of the room, a large grill now sat with Fred searing himself alive on top. As his boiling flesh slowly melted away, he reached towards Daphne. Streamers of liquid flesh stretched from the grill to his arm like mozzarella cheese, revealing the bone. She shrieked and threw her purse at him, taking off a chunk of his molten face on impact.

"Get in while it's warm, Daph," Fred screeched, clenching his teeth.

"Get away from me," she cried, backing towards the door. She looked to the couch where Luanne was. Her face looked rotten and her eyes were all white. Bill giggled as Luanne gnawed on his arm.

"Hey Daphne…" Bill said in a low and eerie voice.

"Wh-what?" Daphne said, her heart pounding out of her chest.

"I'll swallow your soul! Swallow your soul! Swallow your soul!" Bill began chanting, with Luanne and the withered skeleton of Fred joining in. Daphne felt a bubble of power grow out from her stomach until it filled her entire body. She looked down at her hands, which were enveloped in a purple glow.

"Swallow this," Daphne shouted, hurling a disk of purple mana at Bill and Luanne. The disk sliced Bill's head clean off, causing Luanne to unleash an ungodly scream that stabbed Daphne's ears like a glowing 1000 degree knife.

From the floor, Bill's head, which gargled a nasty blue blood, spoke, "she's been given powers by the book, we must return with more power." Daphne's eyes opened. She looked to her left. Luanne had also just opened to her eyes. To her right, Fred also opened his eyes. Bill stood at the entrance of the hallway holding his hands together.

"What did you guys think? Pretty scary huh?" Bill said, looking from Fred to Luanne.

"What just happened?" Daphne asked. An expression of confusion grew on Bill's face.

"Actually, my genjutsu didn't work on you, I thought you knew you were a-" Bill began.

"That…" Fred mumbled.

"I know, not the scariest… Hank's tough competition, and don't even get me started on Boomhauer…" Bill admitted, rubbing the back of his head.

"No, that was awesome. So awesome that I can finally hear again," Fred exclaimed with joy, "golly Mr. Dauterive, you've got a real eye for terrifying things"

"Awe, I dunno… I guess for once my life being a living nightmare actually paid off," Bill replied.

"I'm confused. Where did that other girl go?" Luanne said, looking around with the lost eyes of a dementia patient too far gone to remember their own child.

"See, it didn't scare Luanne. I knew it sucked. I suck," Bill whined, slowly laying onto the floor.

Just then, Shaggy and Scooby burst through the door; vicious quantities of rainwater seeped in at an uncontrollable velocity, "like, you gotta come quick guys. There was totally, like, this attack at Mr. Hank's house dude," Shaggy sputtered out between gasps for air.