American Gothic Passion Play
byline: Anubis C. Soundwave
Prologue C: Nobody hates Dash that much.
The referee blows his sports whistle to stop the play.
Elmerton High's defensive line backs away, taunting the still form of a Casper High quarterback.
The same quarterback stares at the scene in disbelief; he attempts to touch his body...from outside it. "I'm... Wait. I'm not moving," he mutters. "My hand is going through my body, I don't feel anything, and my body lying on the ground isn't moving. I'm not even breathing."
Danny, wearing the Dirty Bird costume, shivers as he notes his ghost sense. "Shit," he gasps aloud as conceals his mouth to hide his blue-white breath. "Someone just died."
Dash approaches the quarterback's body, walking through the ghost quarterback, and kneeling before the body. "Hey, Grady...?" he asks, a mix of irritation and worry in his voice. "This ain't a good time for a..." Dash trails off as he blinks at the body.
"I'm dead, Baxter: you stupid jackass-I'm fucking dead!" spits the ghost quarterback, Grady.
"G-grady..." trembles Dash after he checks for breathing and a pulse. "He's not moving-not even breathing," he continues, barely above a whisper.
"That...happens when you die, dipshit," grins Grady, shaking his head as he takes off his spectral helmet.
"Kwan! Get someone to call 911," orders Dash, struggling to stay calm, "and get Coach! Something's wrong with Grady!"
Kwan nods, then leaves.
Randy rushes up to Dash, worry in his eyes. "What happened?" he asks.
"Grady's...not moving!" spits Dash, fuming.
Randy's eyes widen at Grady's body as Dash's words sink in. "Better add a coroner to that order," he says. "Timothy's dead..." he adds inaudibly.
"How the fuck do you know..!?" begins Dash.
Randy scowls at Dash.
Dash sighs. "...never mind," he hisses under his breath at Randy. "I tend to forget how 'special' you are."
"It's okay," says Randy. "You're under a lot of stress."
Within minutes, the ambulance crew arrives to confirm Grady's death; they present their preliminary findings to the referee.
Coach Tetslaff and Coach Eisinger approach the referee.
"Obviously," says the referee, "we have to suspend the game, pending investigation into the cause of Timothy Grady's death."
Tetslaff sighs, a sad frown on her face. Eisinger winces as he glances at Elmerton High's defensive team.
"What's to fucking investigate!?" balks Grady. "That big, sneering motherfucker in the purple jersey body-slammed me into the astroturf-which I'm sure is illegal in football," he spits, "then his flunkies piled on! They fucking murdered me!"
Eisinger pulls out his cell phone, then dials a number and whispers into it.
"Let me guess, Eisinger," scoffs Grady, standing next to Eisinger. "You're calling your school's lawyers because of that cocksucking son-of-a-bitch who cracked open my skull."
A linebacker approaches Eisinger. "So," he grunts, "when are we going to resume the game?"
"The game!?" snorts Grady. "When my granddad gets here," he continues, "you'll be lucky to avoid prison rape, you piece of shit!"
Eisinger ends his call, then turns to the linebacker. "That's indefinite," he says. "We have to wait for the ref to review the play leading to Grady's death."
"Grady couldn't hang," shrugs the linebacker. "This is part of the game."
Randy glowers at the linebacker. "If it weren't for that kid's grandfather," he fumes, "I'd rip out his throat myself."
Dash stares at Randy. "Isn't that a bit harsh?" he asks.
Randy chuckles ruefully, then smiles gently at Dash. "Please," he says, "just go find your grandpa. He's worried-I know he's worried."
Dash blinks at Randy, then turns to locate his grandfather, Miles.
Miles approaches Dash and Randy, with Grady's grandfather.
Grady's grandfather kneels down at Grady's body. "Tim..." he trembles, fighting back tears. "Why'd they kill him...?"
Miles pulls Dash into an embrace.
Dash struggles to escape his grandfather's bearhug. "Grandpa...?" he wonders. "Are you okay...?"
"N-no," whispers Miles. "I'm taking you home now," he continues as he tries to stay calm, "before I say something stupid." He releases Dash from the embrace, only to grip Dash's wrist and pull Dash off the field.
Eventually, everyone leaves the field...
...except Grady and Danny.
Grady studies Danny. "I guess Fenton won't believe the chalk outline on the ground where my corpse was until his dad shows up with his ghostbusting shit," he snorts.
"No," counters Danny, "I was just waiting for an opportunity to tell you to shut the fuck up."
"And how can you: Danny Fenton, intimidate me: the recently-late Tim Grady?" scoffs Grady.
Danny transforms into the Phantom.
Grady blinks. "Okay; that's...slightly more intimidating," he says after he gazes at Danny.
Danny chuckles. "If you can't handle this, I don't know how you'll hack it in the Ghost Zone," he says.
"If that's the case," says Grady, "then I won't go to this 'Ghost Zone'."
"You're going," says Danny, pulling out a Fenton Thermos.
"Wait!" yelps Grady. "What if I told you an embarrasing secret about Baxter!?" he grins stupidly.
"I'm sure that I already know more about Dash Baxter than any sane human being should," says Danny balefully.
"I caught him canoodling with a goth when he was in JV," says Grady.
"Yeah..." sighs Danny, annoyed. "Truthfully, Tim: I stopped giving a shit about clique politics during the middle of freshman year-mostly because I was too busy saving everyone from dangerous ghosts haunting the town."
"Well, then: I'm going to haunt this stadium until the Dire Wolves are shut down as a football team," says Grady. "I'm sure that I could get some other ghosts to back me up."
"You don't have a chance in hell of beating me," counters Danny.
"I do, clyde," says Sidney as he appears before Danny and Grady.
Danny sighs. "I'm not bullying him, for the record," he says to Sidney. "He needs to go to the Ghost Zone before Walker makes everyone's life and un-life miserable."
"Who the fuck is Walker?" asks Grady.
"You don't want to know too much, buster," says Sidney dourly. "He's a real heel." Sidney vanishes.
"He's right," says Danny. "All I'm going to do is pull you into the Thermos, then escort you to the Ghost Zone and set you free there. Walker will imprison you for being a loose ghost, and then you'll probably be subject to spectral prison rape."
"I...don't care," spits Grady. "That fucking team from Elmerton broke my skull and killed me. If I was fated to die from a TBI," he continues, "it should have been in the NFL-where I belonged!"
Danny glowers at Grady.
"Okay, fuckwit," scowls Grady. "I have to remember that you're a geek-you have no reason to give a shit about a student athlete's goals. We're 'dumb jocks', right?"
Danny's eyes widen.
"So maybe I can appeal to your superhero bona-fides," Grady sneers. "I wasn't those fuckers' target. They wanted to slay the starting quarterback."
"Nobody hates Dash that much," snorts Danny. "It looks like a horrible accident by some over-eager players."
"Ah...you haven't sat through enough of our games against Elmerton," says Grady. "All I can say," he continues, "is that Elmerton's linebacker is hot for the goth that Baxter was making out with during JV's shutout win last year against the Dire Wolves. That shithead has wanted Baxter's head on a pike ever since."
"And your hypothesis is that he took out his rage on you instead," says Danny, "since he couldn't maul Dash."
Grady nods.
"If I promise to look into it," asks Danny, "will you go to the Ghost Zone quietly?"
Grady touches his chin. "Maybe..." he drawls.
Walker appears, gripping Grady's shoulder. "There's no maybe about it, punk," he says. "You're coming with me." He vanishes with Grady after glaring at Danny.
"Oh, come on!" balks Danny, seething at the empty space where Walker and Grady stood. "Grady was just being a jerkass!"
At night, Danny arrives at Casper High; he phases into the school and heads toward the football field, then sits on the bleachers.
An elderly maintenance man yawns as he approaches the bleachers, then sits next to Danny.
Danny stares at the man. "You're working pretty late, Mr. Peter..." he begins, trailing off as he notes the grin on the maintenance man's face.
The man chuckles.
"Quit trolling me!" fumes Danny. "I thought we agreed that you didn't hate me anymore."
"I don't hate you," says the man, shifting into his regular ghost form: Randy. "It's just fun to bait teenagers."
"Seriously, Randy: even Dash has lost interest in me at this point-a welcome development, may I hasten to add," says Danny.
Randy nods. "Dash realizes that he has to step up his game," he says, his expression sober. Randy takes out a sports whistle. "Casper High-no, the whole town-needs him."
Danny studies Randy.
"He's a good egg, Fenton," continues Randy.
"I'll only concede that there are worse jerkasses than him," counters Danny.
Randy sighs. "Yeah: he's a colossal jerk...but with a heart as pure as gold," he says. "I remember Miles telling me that Dash was the kid that he had always wanted to be...except for the bullying."
"Yeah: somehow that apparent genetic Baxter trait skipped over Dash's dad and went straight to him from Old Man Baxter," says Danny ruefully, "which I learned about firsthand when Sidney hijacked my body the first time."
"Why would Sidney do that?" asks Randy.
"He thought I was bullying Dash," says Danny.
"Considering your ghost powers and the fact that Dash has no such ability," says Randy, "he was right."
"You were in prison when Spider-Man printed," pouts Danny, "so you can't whip out the 'great power, great responsibility' card to play on me."
"That sentiment predates Stan Lee," says Randy.
Danny shakes his head. "Forget it," he says, chuckling. "Why are we here?"
Randy takes off his sports whistle, then hands it to Danny. "Can you whistle for me?" he asks.
Danny shrugs, then complies, blowing the sports whistle.
A small, golden-brown Labrador ghost puppy appears, its tail wagging excitedly.
Danny stares at the puppy. "It's...it's you..." he whispers, petting the puppy.
Randy touches his chin a moment, then picks up the puppy. "Okay," he says, "try again."
Danny nods, then blows the whistle.
A thin, wiry man resembling Jack materializes, wandering above Danny and Randy.
Danny looks up, then beckons to the man, recognizing him. "Tony? Tony Fenton?" he asks.
Tony blinks, staring at Danny. "Yes...?" he says, confusion on his face.
"My...my name's Jackson Daniel Fenton," grins Danny.
Tony squints at Danny. "But Jack was always a big boy," he muses.
Danny chuckles. "The Second," he adds. "I'm his son."
"Wow," says Tony. "I guess if I weren't walking through walls so much," he says, "I'd be your grandfather."
"Yeah," says Danny, a sad, understanding smile on his face. "And whatever Dad-I mean Jack-said," he continues, "he didn't mean it."
"Of course not," says Tony. "He was just upset. Jack has a temper, but he's a swell guy. Best friend I ever had. I just didn't know how to help him..."
"There was no helping him," sighs Danny. "He was fifteen, and dealing with bullshit from high school. I've been there myself."
"It looks like you're okay," says Tony.
"I guess I'm a lot luckier," says Danny. "And grateful enough to him that I won't give Jack a hard time anymore," he continues. "Unless he fucks up my natural twenties again."
"I'm not sure what those are," says Tony, befuddled, "but they must be important."
Danny grins. "Never mind," he says. "We'll be okay: we're Fentons," he adds, giving Tony two thumbs-up.
Tony returns the gesture, then vanishes.
Randy nods. "All right: one more time," he says.
Danny sighs. "You're getting at something," he says to Randy. "The first time, I just whistled, and a puppy I'd wanted who Dad ran over by accident with the FFAV appeared. Next, I summoned my grandfather," continues Danny, "because I had Dad on my mind."
"Fair enough," says Randy. "Just think about this for me. Never, in my entire life, have I seen anyone die playing football," he adds, his expression morose. "If I weren't already dead, seeing what I saw that time: that shit would've killed me."
Danny closes his eyes, then blows the sports whistle.
Grady appears, mussing Danny's hair. "Hey, Fenton," he grins.
Danny snorts. "How are you liking the Ghost Zone?" he asks.
"Walker's an asshole," says Grady.
"Ah: we're in perfect agreement," says Danny. "I'm not sure why Mr. Petersen," he continues, nodding to Randy, "wanted me to summon you."
Grady sighs. "Because he's worried about Dash," he says.
Danny blinks.
"I...don't know how to explain this to you," continues Grady, "because this is outside your sphere of experience. But," he says, "had it not been for Mr. Petersen, you'd be having this chat with Dash right now."
Danny stares at Grady, confused.
"And-however much of a shit he's been to you over the years," says Grady, "I don't think you want that."
"No," says Danny soberly, "I don't. Nobody hates Dash that much."
"And...you'd be wrong, Fenton," says Grady. "The only thing I'm going to say," he adds, "is that jealousy is a horrible emotion for a jock to have."
"I'm...becoming something of an expert on jealousy," says Danny. "Obviously, you died because of some Elmerton jackass' unrequited crush on a girl in our school...who apparently returned Dash's affections."
"Bingo," says Grady. "What's your basis?"
"My arch enemy, who's in a cushy federal prison cell," says Danny, "is probably scheming ways to seduce my mom and murder my dad, the previously-hapless hypotenuse."
"Your mom's a MILF, Fenton," scoffs Grady. "Your arch enemy can get in line behind a quarter of the Ravens' varsity lineup."
"Oh, no," counters Danny. "He'd insist that he was there when you guys were still 'spermatozoa in your fathers' scrota'."
"Is he really that pompous?" asks Grady quizzically.
"Yes," says Danny.
"Nonetheless," says Grady, "someone that conceited is also very smart about his jealousy: not the kind of impulsive idiot who would, say, lose his shit over having grass for lunch instead of chocolate pudding."
Danny nods. "True," he says.
Grady sighs. "Leaving aside the fact that I actually care if Dash lives or dies because he's like a kid brother I could pick on a bit," he says, "the fact is that if Dash dies, the Ravens are stuck with Grieseman as starting quarterback."
Danny blinks, while Randy slaps his forehead.
"No amount of swirlies we allegedly dished out to your clique justifies that kind of punishment for our team," says Grady.
"Timothy..." says Randy, annoyed.
Grady smiles. "Sorry, Mr. Petersen. Just busting Fenton's chops a bit," he says.
Danny shakes his head. "I'll keep a close eye on Dash," he says.
"Thanks," says Grady. "Good looking out, Fenton." He vanishes.
Randy smiles. "Great. I'm leaving my whistle in good hands," he says.
"Yeah," says Danny. "I don't want this thing falling into the wrong hands. Where'd you get a ghost-summoning whistle?"
"I earned it along with some cash as a kid," says Randy, "after four hours of cleaning old Mrs. Showenhower's attic. Her grandson Freddy tried to ask me for it years ago, but I remembered him being a whiny little gunsel when he was a kid, so I refused."
"Smart man," says Danny wryly, thinking of Freakshow.
"That should help you deal with those characters in the Zone," continues Randy, "and maybe help them work through their issues so they can get out."
Danny nods.
"Now," says Randy, "I'm off to the undiscovered country."
"Eh?" wonders Danny.
"Shakespeare reference. Look it up," says Randy, vanishing.
NEXT: Security blanket of false promises to keep.