[The scene opens on a dimly lit throne room. The atmosphere is oppressive, almost surreal, with strange shadows cast by torches flickering against cracked stone walls. At the center of it all is a high, imposing throne—massive, draped in deep red fabric, and adorned with the remnants of jagged metal decorations. Seated atop this throne is Lincoln, transformed beyond recognition. Once a boy, now a strange, hybrid creature; part boy, part squirrel, part something twisted and powerful. His small, squirrel tail flicks back and forth impatiently as he surveys his court with a half-bored, half-amused sneer.]

[Around him, lined up in sorrowful silence, stands his family. Their heads hang low, their expressions drained and defeated. Their once-vibrant faces are now etched with misery, their spirits broken. Each family member bears some mark of servitude: bruises, dirty faces, torn clothing. They stand as Lincoln's subjects, his subjects... and his slaves.]

[Lincoln leans forward on his throne, resting his chin on one fist, his sharp, squirrel-like eyes glittering with a dark amusement as he addresses the unseen audience.]

LINCOLN
(grinning, with a mocking tone)
Well, here I am! Lincoln the King… king of all the land! Who'd have thought that, eh? Me, stuck in a stupid squirrel suit, "bad luck" for my own family, thrown out and cast aside… and now here I am, the one holding all the cards.

[He sweeps his gaze over his family, his lips curling into a sly smile as he watches their shame, their utter defeat. Each of them stands with their eyes cast down, no longer able to meet his gaze. He savors their silence, their helplessness, the raw power he now holds over them.]

LINCOLN
(smirking, leaning forward)
"But how did I come to this?" I hear you say. "And who are those strange fellows that surround my throne?" I hear you also say! Oh, it's quite the story, alright… and it's not a tale for the faint of heart.

[He gestures grandly to the scene around him, as if presenting a grand piece of twisted theater, a masterpiece of misfortune.]

LINCOLN
Come closer, go on. You want to know the tale of how a boy like me—cast off as a miserable mascot—rose up to rule all he saw? You want to know how I went from laughingstock to lord of the land?

[He chuckles darkly, an edge of bitterness lingering in his voice.]

LINCOLN
Well, I'll tell you, alright. It's a long story. (pauses, looking into the darkness with a narrowed gaze) It all started... yesterday. And what a day that was! A day where everything changed. The day that started it all, the day where fate twisted into something strange, dark, and absolutely wicked.

[He leans back into his throne, clasping his hands together as he begins to recount the tale, his smile a mix of nostalgia and grim satisfaction.]

LINCOLN
It's what I like to call… a bad fur day.

[The scene fades to black, Lincoln's mocking laughter echoing in the emptiness as the title card flickers onto the screen: "Lincoln's Bad Fur Day."]

The sun was merciless, baking the sand at Royal Woods Beach into a scorching sea of glassy heat. It bore down on a lone, slumped figure near the shore—Lincoln Loud, encased in a full-body squirrel costume that felt less like a costume and more like a furry coffin. The air inside was thick and unbreathable, and sweat poured down his face as he struggled to inhale anything besides his own hot, stale breaths. Every instinct screamed at him to rip the thing off, to tear himself out of the suit, but his arms felt like lead. His head swam, pounding like a brutal drum, as if the universe itself was taking one last shot at him.

Lincoln: (muttering through gritted teeth) This…is just…perfect. Forced into a freaking fur prison because my family is too busy treating me like a cursed carnival prop. Great. Just freaking great.

Even through the stuffy material, Lincoln could hear the muffled sounds of his family, their carefree laughter blending with the crash of the waves. He could barely see their shapes through the limited eyeholes in the suit, each blurry figure a reminder of what he'd lost. Lori was lying on her towel, snapping selfies for social media. Luan was nearby, working on another terrible prank. Everyone was at ease, enjoying the perfect beach day, while he sat here melting under layers of synthetic fur.

Lincoln: (scornful, half-delirious) Yeah, go on, enjoy yourselves. Just pretend I'm not here, your "bad luck" magnet. All my fault, right? Couldn't possibly be your fault for buying into this garbage superstition…

He tried to move, but his limbs wouldn't cooperate. Every inch of him felt smothered. He remembered how this whole mess had started—one little white lie. All he'd wanted was a break, just a moment to himself in the chaos of his family's constant demands. But his lie had snowballed, his family taking his "bad luck" joke and running with it, until they'd banned him from joining any family outings. At first, he'd found it funny—after all, he finally had time for himself, free to play video games, read comics, even chug milk straight out of the jug like a king. But it hadn't taken long for his joke to turn sour.

One by one, his privileges vanished. Breakfast was served in the living room instead of at the table. His family refused to take him along to the movies, his room got boarded up, and he'd been exiled to sleep outside, like some animal. And now, here he was, forced to sit on the sidelines, drenched in sweat, because they believed he was bad luck.

Lincoln: (growing faint) Just a joke…just a stupid little lie…and now I'm stuck in this—(struggles to breathe) God, I can't breathe…

His vision began to blur, the family sounds fading into a dull hum as his head pounded harder. The suffocating heat pressed down on him like a giant weight, dragging him deeper into unconsciousness. Just as everything went black, he thought he saw a flicker of movement—a shadow passing over him.

[Luna Checking on Lincoln]

Luna approached Lincoln's slumped form, a carefree grin on her face. She hadn't really paid much attention to him all day, but she'd had an idea that maybe her "lucky" little brother could help her score a rare instrument buried in the sand.

Luna: (excited) Hey bro, I need your luck to find an instrument that might be buried around here. It'd be so rad if you could help me find it!

But Lincoln didn't respond. Luna's smile faded as she looked at his lifeless form, her heart giving a nervous jolt.

Luna: (worried) Lincoln? Lincoln?

She reached out, gently shaking his shoulder, but he didn't budge. Panic started to creep into her voice.

Luna: (alarmed) Guys! Something's wrong with Lincoln!

But Lincoln didn't hear any of it. By then, he was gone, his consciousness drifting in a world far darker and stranger.

[Void - Enter Gregg the Grim Reaper]

Lincoln's eyes flickered open, his surroundings a vast, endless black void. He drifted weightlessly in nothingness, somewhere between asleep and awake, his mind struggling to grasp where he was.

Lincoln: (dazed) What…the hell…?

There was nothing but silence. He was alone, suspended in this strange abyss, feeling as if he was both floating and sinking. As the eerie calm settled in, a familiar anger rose in him again, gnawing at him like an old, bitter friend.

Lincoln: (muttering) Perfect. This is just the way it had to end, right? A "bad luck" kid, fried alive in a squirrel suit. Couldn't even die like a normal person. No, I had to go out in the most humiliating way possible.

Suddenly, a loud, crackling voice broke through the silence, sounding like someone shouting through a rusty megaphone.

Gregg's Voice: (squeaky, amplified) Oi! Wake up, ya whiny little git! You don't get to just float around like some lost soul, moanin' about yer sorry life!

Lincoln turned, squinting through the dark, and saw a tiny figure floating toward him. It was a skeletal creature no bigger than a football, draped in a black cloak and holding a beaten-up megaphone. Lincoln blinked in disbelief.

Lincoln: (deadpan) Are you…a skeleton gnome?

Gregg: (indignant) Skeleton gnome?! Who the bloody hell d'ya think you're talkin' to, ya pasty little brat? I'm Gregg, the Grim Reaper! The one and only! And you'd better remember it!

Gregg tossed the megaphone aside, muttering curses under his breath as it fizzled and died. Without it, his voice was high-pitched and squeaky, and somehow even less intimidating.

Lincoln: (arms crossed, unimpressed) So, let me get this straight. You're the Grim Reaper? You look like someone shrunk a Halloween decoration and stuck it on a string.

Gregg: (seething) Oh, you think you're funny, don't ya? Cheeky little sod. I coulda left ya driftin' in the void, but no—I came here to "help." (grumbles) Bloody kids these days, no respect…

Lincoln: (sarcastic) Oh, yeah, thank you so much for pulling me out of the void. Real heroic of you.

Gregg floated closer, giving Lincoln a long, appraising look with his hollow eye sockets.

Gregg: Here's the deal, mate—you're dead. Fried in that bloody costume because your family thought you were "bad luck." Normally, I'd just shove you off to the next life, but today I've got a bit of a…let's call it a special offer.

Lincoln: (raising an eyebrow) Special offer? (scoffs) Yeah, I'll bet. Gonna give me a family discount, seeing as they left me to die?

Gregg: (shrugging) Not my business, mate. I just deal with the dead, I don't do family counseling. But every now and then, someone like you comes along—a bit of an exception. So here's the thing: I can offer ya a second shot. A bit of a…do-over.

Lincoln: (skeptical) A do-over? You mean…you can actually bring me back?

Gregg: (exasperated) Yes, that's what I just said, didn't I? Bloody hell, you're slow. Mind ya, my magic's a bit…temperamental. But hey, that's what makes life interesting, eh?

Lincoln: (smirking) Considering my family thinks I'm cursed, a little chaos sounds just about right.

Gregg: (grinning) Right, then! Get ready, ya unlucky little bastard. This could go any number o' ways, but…well, here goes nothin'!

Gregg raised his bony hands, and a strange blue light began to swirl around Lincoln, filling the void with an eerie hum. The energy crackled and surged, pulling at him as Gregg muttered under his breath.

Gregg: (mumbling) Bloody squirrel suit, stubborn kid…this'll be a right mess, I'll wager…

The light intensified, the energy tugging at Lincoln's entire body. Everything became a blur as he felt himself being spun, twisted, like he was in a cosmic blender. The blue light filled his vision until there was nothing left but blinding brightness…

[The New World - Lincoln's Waking Nightmare]

Lincoln groaned, feeling his head throb as he blinked against the daylight streaming through the leaves overhead. He was lying on his back in a strange forest clearing, disoriented and groggy.

Lincoln: (mutters) Did…did that skeleton actually pull it off…?

As he sat up, his vision cleared—and his heart dropped. Instead of his hands, he saw two small, fuzzy paws. His jaw tightened as he took in his new form, fury bubbling beneath his shock.

Lincoln: (furious) Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me!

A familiar, squeaky laughter echoed through the air. Gregg appeared, floating above him, cackling with dark delight.

Gregg: Ohoho! Look who's all bushy-tailed now! Seems my magic's got a sense of humor, eh? You're back, mate…but as a squirrel!

Lincoln: (clenching his tiny paws, seething) You turned me into a rodent?! I asked to come back, not to be a…a woodland freakshow!

Gregg: (grinning) Hey, don't look at me! You're the one who spent his last moments in a squirrel suit. Maybe the magic thought it was an improvement.

Lincoln's rage was boiling over, and he clenched his fists, vowing revenge.

Lincoln: (under his breath) Oh, I am going to make you pay for this…

Gregg: (mockingly) Good luck, Smart Arse! Just mind the cats—they're real pains in the arse with their nine lives. Enjoy, mate!

With a final flash of light, Gregg vanished, leaving Lincoln alone in the unfamiliar forest.

Lincoln: (glaring into the distance) Fine. You want to give me "one of those days"? (grins darkly) This whole world's about to have one.

Lincoln took a deep breath, his eyes flickering with defiance as he surveyed the strange new land. He might have been transformed, but he wasn't about to let this twisted new reality beat him.

End Chapter 1