And now ladies and gentlemen, it's time to do..."The Turnip Twist"! The episode, not the dance. To those who stood up with a turnip in their hand about to spin it around, sorry for the confusion.
Admittedly, I liked this one a little better than the last episode. Probably just because it gave us another glimpse of the Ghost World. Also, it really showcases Scratch's growing relationships with other characters besides Molly. Still, not my favorite. Song was okay.
Let's get into it!
Also, I apologize if I misgendered the mayor's goldfish, seeing as how it doesn't have a page on the Wiki. If a future episode reveals different pronouns, I'll go back and fix them (yes, I do take pronouns seriously, even for fictional, non-anthropomorphic, non-talking animal characters who have a total of less than 30 seconds of screentime).
Stretch, Stinkie, & Fatso: Muahahahahahaaaa!
Molly: Can't believe you're all mine
Fatso: Uh, what?
Molly: You and me for all time
Stretch: No way!
Molly: I'm never, ever, EVER gonna be alone again
Stinkie: This stinks!
Molly: It's just you three and me
Fatso: For all eternity?!
Molly: For all ETERNITY!
Stretch, Stinkie, & Fatso: NOOOO!
Molly & Ghostly Trio: It's the Ghost-Ghostly Trio and Molly McGee
Fatso: We've been cursed!
Stinkie: It's the worst!
Molly: Now you're stuck with me
Molly & Ghostly Trio: We're never gonna be apart
Stretch: Is there a way to hit 'restart'?
Molly: Nope!
Molly & Ghostly Trio: We're the Ghost-Ghostly Trio and Molly McGee
Molly: That's me!
Stinkie: Well, that's she. Hee, hee, hee!
Molly & Ghostly Trio: Ghostly Trio and Molly McGee!
Fatso: Oh yeah!
Chapter 17
Turnip the Beat
It was just another average day in the town of Brighton. Pete McGee, the father of the McGee household, was anticipating the arrival of something important to him. He had his face pressed against the living room window, his eyes focused on the street outside. His daughter, Molly McGee, soon joined him.
"Whatcha lookin' at, Dad?"
The Ghostly Trio appeared and slammed their faces into the window as well.
"Ooh, is it the ice cream truck?" Fatso drooled.
"Is it the garbage truck?" Stinkie guessed.
"Is it a movin' van to take you fleshies away forever?" Stretch hoped.
"C'mon, Stretch," Molly rolled her eyes playfully. "That's something you would have said back when we first moved here, but we all know you've grown attached to us since then."
"Blech." Stretch gagged. "I hate character development."
Pete turned his attention back outside and became excited upon seeing the mailman drop something off in the McGee mailbox.
"It's here! It's finally here!"
He rushed outside, followed by Molly and the Trio.
"Well, what is it?" Molly asked.
Pete reached into the mailbox and pulled out a magazine.
"It's the latest issue of Midwest Monthly!" he showed off the cover, which had a cow printed on it. "I've waited four weeks for this!"
Fatso peered at it. "Does that magazine have staples?"
Molly chuckled. "That's great, Dad, but you know you can just read it way earlier online, right?"
"And miss out on that new magazine smell?" Pete pressed the magazine to his nose and inhaled. "Ahh…I don't think so!"
"Yeesh, what kinda weirdo obsesses over how things smell?" Stinkie inquired, prompting knowing glances from his brothers. "Hey, I'm a ghost. That's different."
"No, it's not." Molly replied before turning back to her father. "Anyway, why are you so excited about this magazine, Dad?"
"Because now I can finally learn which town has been named 'Best of the Midwest'!" Pete informed her.
"Ooh!" Molly became excited, too. "I think Brighton has a chance!"
"Oh please." Stretch grumped. "The only chance Brighton normally has is a chance of rain."
Pete took several quick breaths in succession.
"I'm too nervous." he handed the magazine to Molly. "You do it." he took it back. "No, I'll do it." he gave it back. "No, you do it." and then took it back again. "No, no, no."
Finally, he pushed the magazine into Molly's hands and walked away. "You do it."
Molly opened it to the correct page. "Okay, here goes. And the winner is…dramatic pause…"
Pete crossed his legs and fingers. "Brighton…Brighton…Brighton…"
Stretch snatched the magazine from Molly. "'Perfektborg'!" he read. "'Scandinavian hospitality in America's Heartland.'"
Stinkie sighed. "Things haven't been the same over there since Scary Sven got hauled off to the Flow of Failed Phantoms."
"Let's have a moment of silence for our dear friend." Fatso suggested.
The Trio each took out a black hat and laid it against their chests.
"NOOOOOO!" Pete wailed while leaning back so much his back almost cracked. He then took the magazine from Stretch. "It's not fair! Perfektborg wins every year! Look at this! Brighton's not even in here!"
Molly pointed to a page showing a map.
"Yes it is, Dad! Look!" she showed him Brighton's name on the map, which was cut off at the page's edge. "Well, I guess technically it's just half of Brighton. But it still counts!"
"When did half count?" Stretch snarked. "It ain't even a real number!"
Pete closed the magazine. "For too long, Brighton has been counted out. But no more! The next edition of Midwest Monthly will crown the 'Best Fest in the Midwest' and I promise you, this year it will be Brighton! Who's with me?!"
Molly jumped up and down, raising her hand. "Me! Me! I am!"
"That's what I'm talkin' about!"
Pete reached out his hand to high-five Molly's, but they missed.
"Oh, sorry. One more time."
They missed again. The Trio were starting to become annoyed.
"Can we just cut to the mayor's office already?" Stretch requested.
"Hold on! We almost got it! One…two…"
Molly and Pete held their hands steady and finally high-fived.
"Yes! Woohoo! McGees never give up!"
Later, after Pete and Molly had written down their big idea on paper, they went straight to Brighton City Hall to present it to Mayor Brunson. After looking it over, the mayor was quite impressed.
"I love it, McGee!" he spun in his chair. "This is a great opportunity to take that smug Perfektborg down a peg or two! That'll wipe those perfect smiles off their faces!"
"Well, I'm glad to hear it, Mr. Mayor." Pete responded. "Now all we need is a festival that will draw a crowd."
Behind the mayor's desk, Brunson's beloved goldfish, Goldie, was spinning around in her bowl when the Ghostly Trio poofed up beside her. She let out a scream, creating a few bubbles. In response to this, Stinkie made some bubbles of his own, causing the poor fish to choke.
"We already have one." Mayor Brunson continued. "Turnip Fest!"
Pete burst out laughing. "Good one! Heh, heh, heh…" he noticed the mayor's enthusiastic grin. "Oh. You were serious."
"Turnip Fest?" Stretch repeated. "Ouch, talk about dead in the water!"
Fatso tapped him on the shoulder. "Uh…speaking of which…"
Stretch looked up and noticed that Goldie had gone belly up and her soul was floating around the bowl. Stinkie shrugged.
"My bad."
Stretch grabbed the fish's ghost, attempting to shove it back in her body, but Goldie, clearly fed up with being trapped in a bowl all her life, shoved him against the glass and flew away. Before the Trio could chase after her, Mayor Brunson turned around to sprinkle some fish food into the bowl. Thinking quickly, the three ghosts grabbed Goldie's body and moved it around to make it seem like she was still alive.
"Sure, we haven't been able to fund Turnip Fest in decades, but back in the day, it was a real hit! Right, Goldie? Oh, sorry. Assistant Mayor Goldie?"
"Bloop, bloop, bloop!" Fatso gargled before catching the fish food flakes on his tongue.
Stretch then caught sight of Goldie's soul flying around the room and caught her, using his extremely flexible arms. Unfortunately, Goldie wasn't about to go back in her bowl without a fight and pulled him and the other two ghosts along with her.
"No offense, Mr. Mayor," Pete began. "But we can't beat Perfektborg with turnips."
"Yeah," Molly agreed. "Turnips are just potatoes that went horribly, horribly wrong."
Brunson gave them both a harsh glare. "I will hear no disrespect to turnips in this office, McGee! Brighton was built on the back of the mighty turnip!"
He retrieved one of the aforementioned root vegetables and took a bite, shuddering at the taste, but pretending to like it.
"They may not look like much. And they definitely don't taste like much. But they're ours! Right, Assistant Mayor Goldie?"
Right as the mayor said this, the Trio had successfully returned Goldie's ghost to her body, bringing her back to life.
"I knew you would! You're my smartest advisor!" Brunson kissed the bowl, much to Goldie's annoyance.
Back at home, Molly and Pete started to brainstorm on how to make Turnip Fest win "Best Fest in the Midwest."
"Okay, this shouldn't be that hard." Molly said while pacing. "We've got our festival ready, so all we have to do is make it stand out so we can win 'Best Fest.' And once that happens, Brighton'll bring in more tourists. And more tourists means more…"
"Tourist money!" Pete finished. "Which means more funds to enhappify the town, which will allow us to win even more awards!"
"Nice usage of enhappify."
Stretch snapped them out of their fantasy. "Uh, hello? Newsflash! You're workin' with turnips here. The worst vegetable of veggiekind! Like, if earwax was a vegetable, that's what it would be."
Stinkie and Fatso were digging in a trash can.
"Yeah, onions may smell bad, but that don't mean turnips don't stink worse than them!" Stinkie bit into an onion he found.
Molly and Pete cringed at the odor.
Fatso pulled out a slice of pizza. "No kiddin'! I won't even eat those things! And I'll eat anythin'!"
Before Molly could respond with something positive, a portal to the Ghost World opened up and sucked the Trio in.
"WHOOOA!"
Fatso's pizza slice ended up on Molly's face.
"I'm gonna eat that later!" Fatso called.
The three ghosts were dropped off in front of the Ghost Council.
"Ah, there you are." J. Edgar Boover began.
Stretch stood up and dusted off his arm. "Yeah, yeah. So, what's the occasion this time? We finally gettin' promoted?"
"Ooh, are we gonna be the new chairmen?" Fatso pleaded.
"Why would you wanna be chairman?" Stinkie questioned.
"I've always wanted to wear that robe."
"You three? Chairmen?" Ms. Banshee laughed. "Like that will ever happen! Now…BE QUIIIIIEEEET!"
The Trio were blown backward by her voice.
"Thank you, Ms. Banshee." Boover continued. "Anyway, we summoned you here because we're concerned about your town's misery levels. Frankly, they're…well…miserable."
Ms. Stifflips summoned Brighton's misery meter, showing that it was halfway between red and green.
"As you can see, there's been a rather disturbing trend of rising joy." Ms. Banshee stated. "You three are doing your jobs, aren't you?"
The Trio chuckled nervously.
"Have we been doin' our jobs?" Stretch repeated with a laugh. "Ya hear that fellas? She thinks we haven't been scarin' people as good as we used to. Ms. Banshee, you're such a kidder."
"Maybe I am, Stretch. But numbers…don't…LIIIIIIEEEEE!"
Stretch reeled back. "Okay, okay! So maybe we slacked off a teeny tiny bit. But don't worry! We got somethin' big planned to really frighten the flesh off those fleshies!"
"We do?" Stinkie and Fatso asked him.
Stretch slapped them both. "Course we do, remember? It's called: Turnip Fest."
"Hm." Ms. Stifflips nodded. "Turnips are miserable. But a festival about turnips sounds risky."
"That's true." Ms. Banshee agreed. "Even a celebration of the most miserable things can spread joy."
"Remember when Perfektborg held their Parsnip Festival a few years back?" Boover recalled. "Never were folks more enthused by such bland, forgettable produce."
"Yeah, but we're talkin' turnips here!" Stretch persuaded. "Nobody likes those! We guarantee it'll be a sadness extravaganza!"
"We hope so." Ms. Banshee threatened. "Because it would be a shame if we had to send you three to…the Flow of Failed Phantoms…"
All of the Ghost Council members burst out laughing. The Trio were confused at first.
"Oh! I get it! You're just jokin' about sendin' us there." Stretch guessed.
"Um, no. I'm joking about it being a shame to have to send you there." Ms. Banshee grinned. "Looks like I am a kidder after all. So…GET BACK TO WOOOOORRRRRK!"
The Trio were blown away one more time and then the Ghost Council made their exit.
"Great." Stinkie rubbed his head. "As if things didn't reek badly enough with this whole turnip fair, now our jobs are on the line. If Molly and Pete make the festival a success, we're gonna get stuck with all the other losers who got laughed outta scare school!"
Stinkie pointed upward right as an odd-looking ghost flew by.
"Halllooooo!" he called. "Is eternity over yet?"
Fatso waved to him. "Hang in there, Sven! Friendly guy. He never stood a chance."
"Don't worry, boys." Stretch assured the other two. "Like I said, nobody likes turnips. There's no way anyone can make them sound fun. Not even hardcore enthusiasts like Molly."
But by the time the Trio returned to the McGee residence, they were instantly proven wrong. Molly and Pete were on the couch watching a video they had just uploaded to their MeTube account.
"You guys!" Molly cried. "Check out this commercial we made!"
She showed them her computer and it played an advertisement for Turnip Fest.
"Turnip Fest is back!"
The screen showed a turnip puppet being waved around in front of the camera before cutting to Molly's elderly friend, Patty.
"Did you say 'Turnip Fest'? Now that's a festival I can 'root' for!" she laughed at her own joke and then started dancing with a guy in a turnip costume.
Pete stepped into view, holding a turnip. "This weekend, celebrate Brighton's tastiest treat!" he took a bite, but then choked on the horrible flavor.
The video cut to a dancing turnip puppet along with eye-catching texts.
"There'll be food! Fun! Festivities! And more importantly…turnips!"
It cut back to Pete, showing off a turnip tattoo on his belly.
"So make sure you 'turn up'!"
Dianne, the owner of a motor lodge in Brighton, then popped up, holding a brochure.
"And while you're at it, why not stay at the Brighton Motor Lodge? There's lots of vacancies! Wide open! Please come."
That's where the ad ended.
"They ain't comin' lady! Not until ya fix the waffle makers." Fatso responded.
Molly checked the view count for the video which had almost reached 200,000.
"We're going viral! Everyone seems really excited for Turnip Fest now! Isn't that great, you guys?" she nudged the Trio.
"Oh yeah…" Stretch sank into the couch cushions along with Stinkie and Fatso. "Terrific…"
The Trio's fears weren't quelled when the day of the festival came either. Everyone in Brighton seemed like they were having fun with everything Turnip Fest had to offer. There were games like turnip cornhole (or just "turniphole" as Molly called it), turnip-themed merchandise like giant, smiling turnip plushies, and most of all, lots and lots of delicious turnip snacks.
"I love turnips!" a boy said before chowing down on some fried turnip kebabs.
Molly looked around at all the happy faces. Seeing them made her even happier. The Trio approached her worriedly.
"Uh, hey Moll." Stretch greeted. "Listen, we wanted to ask yous somethin'."
"Yes?" Molly listened intently.
"Hypothetically, how would ya feel if Brighton…just in a worst-case scenario…didn't win 'Best Fest in the Midwest'?"
"Aw, don't be a Negative Nancy, Stretch! That's not gonna happen!" Molly poked the ghost's nose. "'Cause it is the best!"
"Yeah, yeah. I know that. But let's pretend that it did happen. Just for fun, ya know? Yer spirits wouldn't be totally crushed, right?"
Molly thought about it briefly. "No. I'd probably get over it. But Dad? Oh, we're talkin' majorly broken spirits here. Irreparable, maybe!"
The Trio noticed Pete and Sharon laughing while hugging Mayor Brunson, the latter of which had on a turnip hat.
"Gotcha…" Stretch gulped.
"Yeah…" Molly re-channeled her positive energy. "But it's not gonna happen! 'Cause the whole town has 'turned up' for turnips! Heh, heh! So, don't you worry your cute little supernatural heads about it! See you guys later!"
The Trio waved goodbye as Molly walked off.
"Ha, ha, yep!"
"See ya, Moll!"
"Enjoy the fun! While it lasts…"
Once Molly was gone, the Trio deflated from guilt and uneasiness (Stinkie let out a tiny bit of gas).
When they recovered, the Trio flew over to a stand selling "Turnip Twisters" and swiped one from the vendor as he was about to give it to a kid. The kid and vendor both gasped at what looked like a turnip floating away on its own.
"Stupid turnips…" Stretch grumbled as he returned to Stinkie and Fatso. "What do these bone bags see in ya?"
Fatso took a bite of it and gagged. "Maybe their taste buds ain't workin'."
Stinkie also tried the turnip.
"Blech! Lucky them, 'cause this flavor is nasty! Worst of all, it don't even make my breath rancid! That's it, I need a palate cleanser." he retrieved an onion and bit into it. "Ahh…much better…"
Stretch and Fatso coughed as Stinkie blew a stench cloud in their faces.
"Who are we kiddin'? Stretch curled up into a ball on the ground. "This festival's a huge success. Looks like it's the Flow of Failed Phantoms for us, fellas…"
Molly ran up to join her parents.
"Dad! Dad!" she took Pete's hand. "Everyone in Brighton is here! We're so close to winning 'Best Fest in the Midwest'! Now all you have to do is impress that Midwest Monthly reporter!"
Pete's face froze. "Wait…what?"
"Ahem! Excuse me?" a strict voice came from behind the family.
Turning around, they saw a woman in a business suit coming toward them. She wore a pair of thick glasses and behind them was a set of critical-looking eyes. She carried a notepad and pencil for writing down all of her judgments.
"Eva Hernandez of Midwest Monthly." she shook Pete's hand. "I shall be the adjudicator for the winner of 'Best Fest in the Midwest.' I'd like to begin with the food, then move on to the festivities, then, time and weather-permitted, the fun."
Pete was a bit apprehensive at first, but his confidence boosted slightly when Molly gave him a couple of thumbs-up.
"Right this way, Ms. Hernandez." he handed her a kebab. "Would you care to try one of Brighton's famous Turnip Tornadoes?"
Ms. Hernandez examined the food with a monocle before giving it a taste. Meanwhile, the Trio were still moping.
"Molly and Pete worked so hard for this dumb festival." Stretch lamented. "I can't bear bein' the one to crush their dreams! And to think, just a few chapters ago I would've jumped at the opportunity."
"Nah." Fatso denied. "You were a softie even back then."
Stretch wrapped his hand around Fatso's neck. "Tell me. Does my fist feel soft?!"
Stinkie groaned. "Yeah, it's too bad we don't know some gullible sucker that can ruin the festival for us."
Just then, the Trio were startled by a loud, feminine scream.
"Help!" a ghost with blonde hair and a pink bow flew up to them, her arms tangled around her body. "Poil? What happened to you?" Stinkie demanded.
"I got too close to the turnip tornado machine! Now I look like a potato peel!"
Stretch picked her up and fixed her shape.
"Cut it out, short sheet. You're a ghost, remember?"
"Aw, thanks Stretchie!" Poil hugged him. "If I didn't have yous guys as friends, I'd be dead for sure!"
Stretch pushed her off. "Poil, you doofus! You're already dead! And how many times do I gotta say it? We're not fri-" he paused as he got an idea in his head.
"I mean…yeah, that's right. We're practically besties. Why else would we do a favor for ya like that?" he wrapped an arm around Poil. "Only real friends would go out of their way to help each other. And speakin' of which, we gotta a little job for ya."
"Oh goodie!" Poil clapped her hands excitedly. "I ain't never had a job before! Mostly 'cause every time I applied for one, I got told I was too 'incompetent.' To this day, I still don't know what 'competent' is and why they all thought I was 'in' it."
"Well, don't worry. We's think you're just the right amount of incompetent for this job. Ya could even say it's the only requirement."
So, with Poil's help, the Trio set out to sabotage Turnip Fest. They followed Ms. Hernandez around to every activity she participated in: turnip bobbing, turnip toss, turnip carving, and everyone's favorite, doing the Turnip Twist. But somehow, Poil wasn't as good at troublemaking as the Trio were and failed to ruin any of the activities.
There's a brand new craze on the radio dial
Everybody's dancing in the produce aisle
Turnip the stereo and go like this
So come on, do the Turnip Twist
The Turnip Twist
Turn your turnip to the left
The Turnip Twist
Then you spin it to the right
The Turnip Twist
Drop down, pull a turnip from the ground
Shake it off and take a bite
It's a main dish, side dish
Even a snack
No, it isn't rotten, it just tastes like that
Throw away your jicama and radishes
Come on do the Turnip Twist
Don't want no rutabaga
Do the Turnip Twist
Tip your turnip farmer
Do the Turnip Twist
Near the end of the day, Ms. Hernandez had a new attitude as well as a new appreciation for turnips.
"Well, that was a delight!" she told Pete. "I know I'm not supposed to say anything about my decision, but I think Brighton could very well be the new winner for 'Best Fest in the Midwest'!"
"Really?" Pete was overjoyed to hear this.
"Absolutely! And between you and me, I'm so tired of writing about Perfektborg. They win everything."
"Tell me about it. Funny how they have 'Perfekt' in their name and they can't even spell the word right."
"Oh, it goes beyond that." Ms. Hernandez whispered in Pete's ear. "Their meatballs were a little dry this year…"
Pete gasped. "The nerve!"
Ms. Hernandez retrieved her notepad. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm needed at the turnip mascot contest."
Once the reporter had left, Molly zipped up to her dad and hugged him.
"Dad! You did it! We're a shoo-in now!"
"I know, right? C'mon, let's go tell your mom the good news! This is it, Molly; things are really turning around for Brighton!"
The Ghostly Trio and Poil watched from afar.
"So, how'd I do, boss?" Poil asked Stretch.
"How'd you do?" Stretch got in her face. "How'd you do?! You was supposed to turn this festival into a disaster, but instead ya did the complete opposite!"
Poil shrugged. "Well, didn't no one tell ya today's Opposite Day?"
"WHAT?!"
"Yeah, it was on the company calendar. Ya must have missed the memo."
"What memo?! There is no company calendar! I…I…" Stretch tugged the part of his head where his hair used to be and screamed. "You are just the worst! Ya hear me? The absolute worst!"
"Aw, thanks, Stretch! That means a lot."
Stretch's eye twitched.
"Uh, it's Opposite Day, so when ya said 'worst,' she thought ya meant 'best.'" Fatso explained to him in case he didn't get it.
"Oh yeah? In that case, I'm sorry for doin' this!"
Stretch proceeded to tie Fatso into a knot. Stinkie chuckled at this.
"He said he was sorry, but what he meant was he's not-"
"I get it, I get it." Fatso grumbled.
Soon, it was time for the grand finale of Turnip Fest. The citizens of Brighton gathered near the stage where Pete was standing, a microphone in hand.
"And now…it's time for the moment you've all been waiting for…time to trash! The! Turnip!"
He gestured to a giant turnip piñata hanging above him.
"Ooh…" the crowd went.
"Ms. Eva Hernandez of Midwest Monthly magazine?" Pete handed off a stick and blindfold to Ms. Hernandez. "Care to be our first trasher?"
"I'd be honored!" Ms. Hernandez accepted. "I never get to do these kinds of things in Not-So-Perfektborg." she spoke in his ear again. "And I think it's safe to say you'll be very happy with next month's magazine."
"Yes!" Pete cheered quietly.
The Trio and Poil observed from the back of the crowd, the former panicking and the latter maintaining the same big, goofy smile on her face.
"This ain't good, Poil! Not good at all!" Stretch worried.
"Oh, I hear ya." Poil replied, still not taking anything seriously.
"What are we gonna do, Stretch?" Stinkie fretted. "We're runnin' outta options here! I don't think the Ghost Council is playin' games this time!"
"The Ghost Council plays games?" Poil misinterpreted. "Which ones? I bet they'd love Monopoly!"
"Listen you dimwitted dame," Stretch picked Poil up. "We're about to be sent to the Flow of Failed Phantoms for all eternity because of this stupid festival! And yet, you're still treatin' this whole thing like it's one big joke! It's like ya don't care at all, in fact!"
Suddenly, the smile on Poil's face faded.
"Wait a sec…" she shook Stretch by his shoulders. "You're gettin' sent to the Flow of Failed Phantoms? That's some serious stuff! Why didn't ya tell me that from the beginnin'?"
After regaining control of his eyeballs, Stretch looked directly at the blonde ghost.
"Wait…so…ya do know how bad this is?"
"Of course I do! What do ya take me for, an airhead?"
The Trio turned away sheepishly.
"Well…"
"Ya ain't exactly a genius…"
"Only in the sense that yer head is literally fulla air…"
"There's no time to lose!" Poil released Stretch. "I'll put a stop to this or my name ain't Pearl! 'Cause it's not! It's Poil! P-O-no time to spell it, gotta go!"
With that, she flew straight toward the turnip piñata at lightning speed.
"Poil! No!" Stretch begged, but it was too late.
"I AIN'T GONNA LOSE MY BEST FRIENDS!" Poil shouted as she cut the string holding the piñata up, crashing it into the ground.
Ms. Hernandez removed her blindfold upon hearing the sound and she became horrorstruck when the piñata started to tilt and roll towards her.
"Oh my!" she ran for the hills. "My heels!"
The turnip piñata proceeded to roll her down and then it went on to crush all of the booths in the festival, much to Pete's exasperation.
"No!"
He chased after the piñata and Molly followed him to see if she could help in some way. But then the piñata bounced off the Auntie Maimed statue in the middle of the park, causing it to roll back toward the father and daughter and crush them as well.
It didn't stop there. The piñata somehow made it all the way back to town, ricocheting off of stoplights, cars, and fire hydrants. It was almost like a pinball in an arcade machine.
"Tilt!" Stinkie cried.
"Jackpot!" Fatso added.
"How can you two possibly make lighthearted banter right now?" Stretch lectured.
"Sorry. Force of habit." Fatso admitted.
Finally, the turnip piñata smashed right into the front of city hall, splattering turnip mush all over the street. Ms. Hernandez, Pete, and Molly slid out of the broken piñata and into the mush, the former looking very unhappy.
"Okay," Pete confessed while Molly burped up a turnip core. "Maybe it wasn't the best idea to fill the piñata with turnips…"
Ms. Hernandez threw off the turnip hat she was wearing and angrily wrote something down on her notepad.
"Here," Pete offered his hand. "I'll help you up."
Ms. Hernandez smacked his hand away and clicked her pen at him menacingly.
The Trio winced at the amount of damage Poil had caused. Just then, the perky little ghost flew up and squeezed the three into a hug.
"There ya go, boys! Ya don't gotta worry about goin' away now! All yer problems have been solved! I ain't such a bad employee after all, huh?"
"Oh yeah…" Stretch frowned, full of guilt. "Ya did good, Poil. Nice work. I guess…"
"Thanks! So, does this mean I get a promotion?"
One month later, and the newest edition of Midwest Monthly had been released. Molly brought her laptop down to the living room so Pete could read it online.
"See, Dad? Thanks to modern tech, Midwest Monthly is just a click away!"
Pete took a moment to review the format. "Well, it's definitely more convenient. Okay, moment of truth. Here goes nothing…"
He moved the mouse over to a button labeled "Best in Fest" and clicked on it. The page sent him to an article with the headline: "Brighton-Wild Mess of a Turnip Fest." Below it was a picture of the ruined turnip piñata, and below that was another heading that read: "Perfektborg: Still Best in Fest."
Pete was devastated. He shut the laptop and Molly handed him a pillow, which he immediately started bawling into. Molly and the Trio gave him comforting pats on the back.
"There, there, just let it all out, Dad." Molly cringed. "Wow, that is a lot of snot…"
The Trio backed away until they phased outside the house.
"Man, poor Petey." Fatso said.
"Yeah, I still feel pretty rotten about sabotagin' the festival." Stinkie claimed.
Stretch grinned. "Well, actually, we shouldn't have any guilt whatsoever, considerin' we didn't sabotage anythin'. She did, remember?"
The tall ghost pointed at Poil, who was now floating behind him. She turned her head, as if she thought Stretch was referring to some other ghoul.
"Oh yeah." Stinkie realized. "It was all her fault! Shame on you, Poil!"
"You made a grown man cry today, missy." Fatso scolded. "How do you sleep at night?"
"In my bed, usually." Poil answered with a naive smile.
Stretch shook his head. "Ya know, I never thought I'd say this…but there are times when havin' a friend who's a colossal screwup ain't such a bad thing. And Poil? You're the most colossal and incompetent screwup there is."
Poil hugged him. "Aw, I knew you cared, ya big softie!"
"Don't push it." Stretch pulled her off. "Anyway, at least the Ghost Council don't got an excuse to send us away no more. 'Cause Brighton's more miserable now than it's ever been in decades! It may as well change its name to 'Darkon' 'cause it sure ain't gettin' brighter any time soon! You just watch!"
"You just wait!" Stinkie added.
"You just won a million dollars!" Fatso stated randomly.
Stretch whacked him on the head.
But unbeknownst to the troublemaking spirits, the gloominess that had overtaken Brighton after the failed festival would soon be proven only temporary. At Brighton Motor Lodge, Dianne, the owner, was sulking over her lack of customers while dumping all of the turnip merchandise she purchased.
"Boy, Turnip Fest turned out to be a real turndown. So much for my business. Looks like I'll have to close down."
Just then, her phone rang and she quickly answered it.
"Brighton Motor Lodge?" her face suddenly lit up. "Wait, really? You want to book a room for next year's Turnip Fest? You think it sounds like fun? I don't have to repeat everything you say to me? Oh, that is great news! Hold on, let me get my pen!"
She was about to reach into her trash can to retrieve the tossed merchandise when her computer started blowing up with requests for rooms.
"More bookings?" Dianne threw her arms up triumphantly. "WOOHOO! My lodge is saved!"
Meanwhile, in the Ghost World, Brighton's misery meter moved toward the green zone, upsetting the Chairman and the Ghost Council.
"Those three are so dead!" Ms. Banshee threatened.
Poil appeared behind her. "They're already dead."
"IT'S AN EXPRESSSIOOOOONNN!" Ms. Banshee screamed.
Ghostly Trio and Molly McGee!
Oddly enough, I think "Monumental Disaster" was supposed to come before this episode since it showcases a certain statue in one scene. However, I don't believe it's too big of a detail to justify writing this up at a later time so I kept it nondescript (not to mention, I was already nearly done by the time I got to that part). (Edit: I added the detail in!)
Hopefully, this wasn't too boring of a chapter, but if it was, don't worry; the next one is going to be a blast! Please review if you can!