Broo managed to make his way into the main hall. He sniffed around, trying to get a scent from either Von Varkenstein, or his keys. He climbed up the stairs, crawled down the hallway, and peeked into the master bedroom. Inside was Von Varkenstein, sleeping soundly, and snoring loudly. Broo gave him a strange look. Since when do ghosts snore? As a matter of fact, since when do sleep?
Broo wandered into the room, quietly. He didn't want to wake up Von Varkenstein. He sniffed around the room, until he picked up the scent of the keys on the dresser. He jumped up, and was about to grab them when something else caught his eye. It was a box, the kind to hold contact lenses. Now Broo was really confused. He had spent many stormy evenings with Bert reading ghost stories to know that ghosts didn't wear contact lenses. Broo took another good look around the room. Von Varkenstein's clothes (which resembled those of Count Dracula) were strewn all around the room. Broo jumped down and investigated the clothes. He found a microphone hidden in the lapel of Von Varkenstein's shirt. What would a ghost need a microphone for?
Broo pondered this, and sniffed around a little more. He went to the closet, which was opened slightly, and sneaked in. Inside was a small can of phosphorous paint. Broo picked it up in his mouth, and carried it out of the closet. Then, he jumped back on the dresser, grabbed the keys, and took off. Von Varkenstein stirred, and sat up for a moment. He looked around the room, shrugged, and then went back to sawing logs.
Broo raced down the stairs towards the dungeon. He barked to let the others know he was there, and then pushed the keys under the door. Then he jumped up to the window, and squeezed through the bars.
"Broo!" Sophia shouted.
"And he's got the keys!" Ralph exclaimed.
"Hey, atta boy, Broo!" Bert shouted.
"Good going, little guy," Schafer said.
"It's about time," Cyril grumbled, and he took the keys. He fit two or three in the lock before he found the right one. Once he was out, he threw Schafer the keys.
"You get to work unlocking," he said. "I'll take the rack."
"What about me, Mr. Sneer?" Bentley asked.
"Watch the kids," Cyril replied. "Make sure they don't get into anything they can't get out of." And with that, he walked over toward Cedric and Ralph on the rack. Bentley looked at Forest and Evelyn and groaned.
"Whoopee," he said, sarcastically.
About five minutes later, everyone was freed, but they still had a slight problem.
"How do we get out of this dungeon?" Lisa asked. "The lock's on the outside."
"I know how," Forest said. But before he could say anything, Bert jumped into the conversation.
"We break it down!" he shouted. "Bert Raccoon! Karate Ace! Hyyyyyy . . . . ."
"But Uncle Bert . . . ." Forest said.
Bert wasn't listening. He ran for the door, and smashed his hand against it. The door did not budge, but Bert was in a lot of pain.
"Yaaaaahhhhh-ha-ha-haaaaahhhh!"
"A lot of good that did," Cyril said. "Anybody got any more bright ideas?"
"Gampa . . . ." Forest began, tugging on Cyril's hand.
"Not now, Forest," Cyril said.
"I saw an episode of Pigyver where he was trapped in a locked room," Boyd said. "He used a piece of chewing gum, an eraser, and a pair of nylons to get out."
"I don't think that's going to work here," Ralph said. "Though I'd like to know where he got the nylons."
"Ralph!" Melissa shouted.
"Pigyver broke out of a cage using a paperclip once," Boyd said again.
"That old trick never works," Bentley said. "I could probably figure out a way to open the door if I had my computer."
"A lot of good your computer will do us now," Lisa said. "It's back at home!"
"Maybe Broo could squeeze through the bars again," Sophia suggested.
"Mommy . . . ." Forest began again.
"How's he going to get the key in the lock?" Cyril asked.
"But he's the only one small enough to fit through there, Pop," Cedric said.
"Daddy . . . ." Forest started again, sounding impatient.
"Forest, we're busy," Cyril said. Forest heaved a frustrated sigh. He hated to do this, but he had to be heard. He gave his grandfather a good, swift kick in the shin.
"Yeow!" Cyril shouted, hopping up and down on one foot while clutching his shin. "Forest, what in blazes did you do that for?!"
"Because it'll get you to listen to me!" Forest shouted, about ready to throw a tantrum. He went over to the door, turned the handle, and pushed it open. Everyone else just stared at him.
"The ghost didn't lock the door," Forest said. Then he groaned and rolled his eyes. "Grown ups."
"What a way to run a business," Cyril groaned as he left the dungeon.
"Now that we're out of the dungeon, let's get out of here!" Bert shouted.
"Not on your life!" Cyril shouted. "I paid good money for this place, and I intend to turn it into that hotel, and we'll start by tearing the house down! That's the only way to get rid of a ghost!"
Broo started barking suddenly. He picked up the can of paint he found upstairs, and dropped it at Sophia's feet. Sophia picked it up and looked it over.
"Cedric, look at this," she said, handing it to Cedric.
"Phosphorous paint?" Cedric said, reading the label on the can.
"Daddy, what's fossasaurus paint?" Forest asked.
"Phosphorous, Forest," Cedric corrected. "It's a paint that makes things glow in the dark. Broo, did you find this with the ghost?"
Broo barked and nodded.
"Why in the world would a ghost need phosphorous paint?" Melissa asked.
"Unless the ghost isn't a ghost at all," Schafer replied.
"Just like on Scooby Doo," Bentley said. "The ghosts are always fakes on Scooby Doo."
"Yeah," Bert said. "And just like on Scooby Doo, they catch the ghost and unmask him! We'll do the same thing!"
"But how?" Floyd asked.
"I know how," Lloyd said. "Everybody huddle! I've got a great idea."
"Hmph," Cyril groused. "The minute one of you porkers has a good idea, I'll give the three of you a raise."
The Pigs looked at each other and smiled. Then they got the group in a huddle while Lloyd whispered his idea to them.
(scene wipes to the gang searching through the old house, set to the tune of "Here I Go Again" from the original Raccoons series. They're taking sheets from the closets, chains from the dungeon, and various other knick knacks from various rooms, dousing each other with the phosphorous paint. Broo goes back to retrieve the microphone. Ralph and Cedric find a bunch of speakers on the walls, and make some modifications to them)
A few moments later, the Pigs, the Sneers, the Raccoons, and the dogs had everything ready. Ralph turned on the speakers, and Bert turned on the microphone. Sophia began to shake the chains.
"Whoooooooo," Bert said, trying to sound spooky. "I am the ghost of Varkenstein Past! Whoooooo!"
Inside the master bedroom, Von Varkenstein shot up, and looked around.
"That can't be," he said. And without that microphone, he didn't sound very ominous or frightening. He had a very high pitched voice, and he talked as if he had a head cold.
"Whooooo!" Bert shouted again. "I am here to punish all intruders! I am the ghost of Varkenstein Past, Present, Future, and all the time in between! Whoooooo!"
"Nyaaaahhhh!" Von Varkenstein shouted, and he ran from the room. He didn't get very far, though. He slammed right into the wall.
"Oh darn," he mumbled. "Where did I put those darn glasses?"
"Looking for these?" a ghostly voice asked, holding up a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.
"Oh, thanks," Von Varkenstein said. He took the glasses and put them on, only to be face to face with a short ghost.
"Booga, booga, booga!" the ghost shouted, waving his arms in the air.
"Yaaaahhh!" Von Varkenstein shouted, fleeing from the room. Once he was gone, the ghost removed his sheet, revealing Floyd.
"That got him," he said.
Von Varkenstein ran down the stairs. Once he reached the bottom, he looked around, nervously, and then, he heard howling.
"Eeeeee!" Von Varkenstein shouted, and he ran down the hall. The howling kept up until he reached the music room. He ran straight into the player piano. "When the Saints Go Marching In" began blaring out of it.
"Aaaahhh!" Von Varkenstein screamed. Then he caught his breath when he realized it was a player piano he had ran into. "Oh. Just the old player piano. Nothing to worry about."
"Got any requests?" a glowing white raccoon (who looked a lot like Ralph) asked, popping up from behind the piano.
"Eeek!" Von Varkenstein yelled, and he ran from the room.
Von Varkenstein raced into the mainhallway, where he met up with a glowing aardvark, wearing a Dracula-esque outfit, and holding an axe above his head (he was also smoking a cigar).
"You dare impersonate the ghost of Count Verner Von Varkenstein?!" he shouted. "Now you must pay the consequences!"
"Aaaaiiiiiieeeee!" Von Varkenstein shouted, and he ran straight for the dungeon.
"You won't get away that easy!" the cigar smoking ghost shouted, chasing after Von Varkenstein.
At the bottom of the stairs, Lloyd and Boyd were waiting with a piece of rope stretched between them. Von Varkenstein came running down, ran straight into the rope, tripped, flew into the air, and landed right in the stocks. Cedric slammed the top down, and Lisa locked it.
"We got the ghost!" she shouted.
"How about that?" Lloyd asked. "My brilliant plan worked!"
"Sheer luck," Cyril grumbled, wiping the phosphorous paint off his face.
"So how 'bout that raise?" Boyd asked.
"In a pig's eye!" Cyril shouted. Then he turned to Von Varkenstein. "Okay you, what's the big idea of pretending to be a ghost and scaring us all half to death?! I have a good mind to turn you over to the police for trespassing!"
"I'm no trespasser!" Von Varkenstein shouted. "You're the trespassers! Everyone who's stepped foot here are the trespassers! This is my house!"
"Boy, this guy's some kind of nut," Bert said. "Maybe we oughta call a mental institution, if he thinks he's Count Verner Von Varkenstein!"
"No, I'm not Verner Von Varkenstein," Von Varkenstein said. "I'm Elroy Von Varkenstein, Verner's great-great-great-great grandson, and the last of the Von Varkensteins."
"Is that anything like last of the Mohicans?" Boyd asked.
"This old house is all that I have left of my family," Elroy said. "I grew up here. My mother died when I was a baby. My father and I lived here with my great-grandfather. My father died when I was twelve, so Great Grandfather practically raised me. I graduated high school and left for college. Great Grandfather died while I was away at school, and the house had fallen into disrepair. When I returned from school, I found that the city had put it up for sale, and everyone interested in buying it was going to tear it down, but I couldn't let that happen, so I pretended to be the ghost of Count Verner Von Varkenstein to scare people away. But then all of you wouldn't leave, so I had to take drastic measures."
"And that's why you locked us in the dungeon," Ralph said.
"Yes," Elroy said. "I wasn't planning on making you stay in there forever. I was gonna let you all go in the morning, but . . . . well . . . . I guess you'll turn me over to the police now."
"Darn right!" Cyril shouted.
"I don't know," Bert said. "I mean, he only did it to save his house from being torn down."
"I agree," Melissa said. She unlocked the stocks and let Elroy climb out of them.
"Thank you," he said.
"Ridiculous," Cyril said, and he headed for the stairs. "I've had enough of this nonsense! Tomorrow morning, this house comes down!"
"Please, sir," Elroy begged. "Please don't tear down the house! I don't have anywhere else to go!"
"I can't leave it up," Cyril said. "I'll never make any money with it while you're staying here pretending to be a ghost! It's bad for business! This house is coming down and a hotel will be built in it's place!"
"Oh, please, sir, I'm begging you!" Elroy shouted. "This house is all I have left in the world!"
There was a small silence then. Cyril wanted the house to be torn down, but the others had now switched sides on him. They didn't have the heart to send Elroy off to jail after hearing his side of the story. But the truth was, the house would probably end up being condemned anyway.
"Unless someone comes up with a way I can make some money on this house without tearing it down," Cyril said. "It's gonna have to go."
"I think I know what to do, Gampa," Forest said, hugging his grandfather around his middle. Cyril bent down and picked him up.
"Let's hear it, Forest," Cyril said. Forest leaned into Cyril's ear and whispered his idea to him. Cyril got a thought it over and smiled.
"That's not a bad idea, Forest," he said. "Not bad at all. It's so crazy, it just might work!
