Toad walked up to a small door in the side of a manor. A hanging sign depicted an underwater scene, crammed with fish, seaweed bubbles. Dominating everything was a replica of a ship dubbed the Starshroom Enterprise. Toad stoped in front of a butler, snoring behind his post with his mouth hanging open and his head sagging. Toad knocked on the wood by the man and he awoke with a start, rubbing his head.

"I'm looking for Toadsworth," he told the butler.

"Upstairs," shuddered the butler. "Through there." He thumbed a blue door, curled up and shut his eyes before Toad could even touch the door.

Beyond the door, it as a dark room full of bubbling noises and water dripping, it was practically an aquarium. Several corridors meandered between large glass panels that looked into an illuminated tank of sea creatures. Toad moved past a shadowy doorway, he could barely make out the stairs. Toad moved cautiously in the darkness, one tiny door was unlocked, so he opened it and went in.

There were a number of mounted fish of all sizes lined in tanks against the wall. Toad took a moment and studied them all. "Toad?" asked a voice from behind him and he turned when he heard a whirring sound. Toad turned to see an old man sitting in a wheelchair. This was the once enigmatic Toadsworth, his uncle, now sitting depressed with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. "We've been so worried about you. Are you all right, is there some kind of trouble? It's been so long, I thought you'd forgotten your uncle Toadsworth?"

"Uncle… Toadsworth," paused Toad and the old man took out his cigarette and smiled broadly, exposing a row of stained teeth. He wheeled over and grabbed Toad around the waist, hugging him tightly but with love.

It didn't take long before Toadsworth led Toad up to a show room, where he the old man started up a projector and launched his slide show. For the past nine years, Toadsworth had barely had any visitors. His legs had started to fail him ever since he moved to Petalburg upon being officially relieved of his position as steward of the Toadstool Kingdom. These memories were truthfully, all that Toadsworth really had left. Gone was the man who had dealt with King K. Rool, all that was left was the broken shadow of the man who had survived him.

"Not often I get a chance to show these," said Toadsworth. "I'm glad you asked to look a tthem." Toadsworth showed Toad the images from his childhood. Several family portraits clicked by and Toad examined them, focusing on one in particular, a young boy on a red bicycle.

"Wait," said Toad, as Toadsworth clicked through some more images. The old mans topped on one particular shot, a small blonde girl, Toad's parents and himself, about the age of nine, in the front yard of a beach house. "Is that me?"

"Yes."

"Are they my parents?"

"And Vanna," said Toadsworth, perplexed by the questions.

"Vanna?"

"Your sister, Vanna," said Toadsworth and so, Toad stood and walked to the screen. Heimagined the image closely, pattersn of colour played across his face. He noticed something in the background of a photo, a billboard sign with a faded image of a girl in a bathing suit, 'Welcome to Keelhaul Key' it said. "Know this place?"

"Of course," said Toadsworth. "It's where you grew up…"

"Do you know how to get there?"

"I haven't been there in years," said Toadsworth. "You would be relying on the memory of an old man. I'd probably get us lost…" Toad continued studying the slide, totally mesmerized by it.

"It's so… bright there, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes. It's pretty…"

"The sky is blue."

"These pictures are very old," said Toadsworth. "They must have faded." Toad stared at himself in the screen. The nine year old Toad smiled at the camera and in his hand, he was clutching a small black notebook in his hand. On the cover was a colourful scrawl in child's writing: 'How Things Work – By Dane Toad, Age 9'. "Can I keep going?" asked Toadsworth and Toad nodded. The slide changed, to an image of Toadswortha s a young man standing against a brick wall. "This is a good one! Look at me. I was a handsome devil." Toadsworth tried to find some humour, the entire demeanor of Toad had made him extremely uncomfortable.

"What about my parents?" asked Toad. "Do you know where they are?" Toadsworth just looked at him blankly. "What's wrong?"

"They're dead," said Toadsworth. "They've been dead for years. Since you were a child… I looked after you. What is it, Toad, why are you asking me questions, don't you remember?" Toad stood and walked to the window, staring out at Petalburg.

"My sister, is she dead too?" asked Toad and Toadsworth stared at him,e xtremely troubled now. Then, the old man broke into a big, hearty laugh.

"You had me there for a minute," rationalized Toadsworth. "Such a joker! Like your father." Toad didn't laugh, but Toadsworth felt satisfied with his explanation of Toad's strange behaviour.

"Did you keep any of my things, from when I was a boy?"

"I cleared out your room," answered Toadsworth. "But I think your sister put some of your stuff in the attic. I don't know what's up there, freaking steps. What are you looking for?"

"I don't know exactly."

Despite not being satisfied with the nonanswer, Toadsworth chose to entertain his nephew. Perhaps all that time in the desert had fried his brain, figured the old man. Toadsworth led Toad to a door against the black and pushed it open to show that they were at the bottom of a flight of stairs. Taod carefully started to edge his way up to the darkness. "Don't trip over," warned Toadsworth. "I remember it being dark up there.

Toad slammed a light switch and illuminated the attic as he finally made it to the top. It was full of books, boxes and discarded possessions. In a small wooden box there were several toys that he examined with great interest. Toad picked up a book and opened it, but the pages had been eaten out by a swarm of roaches. Toad dropped the book in disgust as the insects scurried over his hands.

A fat man in a suit exited Éclair's door, looked around and paced rapidly away down the corridor, adjusting his tie and fumbling with his coat. As he left, several shadows climbed the stairs towards the landing.

Éclair walked toward the wooden screen, tying her robe around her waist. As she walked, she said something to her daughter behind the screen, but her voice was muffled by the apartment. The shadows knocked on the door and Éclair stopped, walking to the door, saying something else. She never opened the door, but it swung open. Éclair didn't smile for too much longer as Mr. Pipe and Mr. I emerged from the corridor.

Almost immediately, Mr. Pipe pushed into the room and grabbed Éclair with a hand across her mouth. Mr. I entered last after the rest of Mr. Pipe's entourage of Birdfaces has entered. He carefully shut the door behind him.

Toadsworth led Toad to the open doorway of a small bedroom, it was his room, from when he was a boy. Mostof the things had been put away, but there were still a few small mementos of his childhood. "You can sleep here tonight," said Toadsworth, pointing to a tiny single bed. "We'll get you home tomorrow." Toad smiled and stepped into the room. "It's good to see you again." Toadsworth smiled back at his nephew and shut the door as he left.

Alone, Toad looked around the room and stepped across to a small desk by the window. There was another picture of his parents, framed on the desk. Toad picked it up and wished that he could remember them. He opened the drawer in the desk and pulled it out. It was the same notebook that he'd seen earlier, in the slideshow.

Toad sat down and flipped through the book in the dim light. Page after page was filled with neat handwriting and drawings. Yet, why did he feel more disturbed every page he flipped through? He had to go through it all, but he didn't want to see any of it. He flipped through faster and faster. He stopped occasionally to see the glimpses of diagrams of dreaming Pi'illos, glimpses of the Muus and Mamus and of Subcon. There were cross sections of the Birdfaces, the cavity in their head with the Tryclydes inside clearly illustrated. Toad almost dropped the notebook. What was this?

Gus' wife cried hysterically as a cop stood with her, trying to calm her. Pennington entered the apartment to another cop speaking on the phone. "What's up?' he asked and was gestured towards Gus' bedroom.

Pennington swung the door open, it was still unlocked. He entered it slowly, it was pitch dark. There was an eerie silence and the disgusting smell from before had been replaced by something far more rotten. His foot bumped something and he looked down to see Gus, slumped over the shotgun wedge din his mouth. There was a huge eruption of blood on the wall behind his body.

"Looks like it's going to be a busy night," said the cop behind Pennington. He turned to see the man standing in the doorway. "They found another one."

Pennington nodded and turned back to Gus' body as the cop left. He looked carefully and in the gloom, he noticed a cigarette lighter on the floor. Picking it up, Gus lit up and he looked all around the images on the wall. They were elaborate, but hastily scrawled. Birdfaces in long coats, with knives, Tryclydes and a legend that simply said: 'WE ARE LIVING IN THE DREAM OF THE MAMUS'.