Bizenghast Fanfiction: Edaniel's Busy Day
Yay! I managed to get something written! I started this story a while ago, but never finished it. I've promised sadalice that I won't write anything else until I've written a fanfiction based on her work and added to the Bizenghast category on Fanfiction.net. This will probably be a three chapter story with an epilogue. And the chapters are actually all in the same story! GO ON!
(Author's Note: I may be one of the first people able to say this, but this is written with complete permission from the author. I do not, however, have permission from the publisher, so, Bizenghast belongs to M. Alice LeGrow and TokyoPop. This was started as a contest entry, so anything that seems really weird is probably a result of that. It helps to have read Bizenghast, but hopefully it will be funny and entertaining anyway.)
Edaniel's Busy Day
Chapter One: Breakfast of the Damned
The house did not belong in a nightmare. It was a simple colonial lounging easily on a natural lawn in box-like simplicity. White pine clapboard aged to an ugly Cape Codder brown. An intricate and lovingly made stonewall; wrought-iron handrails hardly necessary for the two stone steps leading to a bright orange door. A charming hand painted sign hanging over said door, advertising, “Agatha Carver’s Simplicity Inn. Home of the Breakfast Special.”
“This is too easy,” said Vincent. “Where are the two-headed fish monsters trying to bait us on ten foot stainless steel hooks? Where are the overly complicated riddles? Why is there a ghost serving breakfast?”
“Quit asking questions, Virgil” replied Edaniel. “Be grateful you’re getting breakfast at all.”
Dinah, not wanting to jinx their small group or get involved in a Vincent-Edaniel insult/non-sequitur-fest, wisely stayed silent and knocked on the bright orange door. With an undignified squeak, the door opened to reveal a tiny, middle-aged ghost with a rather ridiculous hat. The hat was small, round, green and covered in an oyster-colored gauze. Planted in the center of the hat were two stuffed birds of an indeterminate species and a collection of green sprouts that might have been plants in their owner’s previous life. The hat, combined with the ghost’s graying brown hair and short stature, made the former woman look like a gnome.
“Hullo,” said the ghost woman. “Welcome to my inn, travelers! I’d be happy to show you into the front room. I have a nice fire going, and then I can make you some breakfast!”
“Oh,” said Dinah, taken aback by the ghost’s enthusiasm and lack of attempts to kill her, “we don’t really need breakfast--”
“Nonsense!” cried the ghost, looking slightly affronted. “I insist you let me make you my famous Breakfast Special! Now, please, please, step inside.” The ghost attempted to take Vincent’s overcoat as she hustled the young woman, young man and green, pointy cat-thing into the house. “May I ask your names?” The ghost continued to chat them up as she led them through the foyer and a narrow hallway to the front room.
Edaniel took up the question. “I’m Edaniel, sister. And this is Princess Zita, ruler of Bahita,” he said, gesturing to Dinah. “Oh, and that’s some guy.” Edaniel waved his paw in Vincent’s general direction.
“Ooh, royalty! I’ve never had royalty in my home before. I’m honored to meet you, Your Highness,” squeaked the ghost with a little curtsey.
“Likewise, I’m sure,” said Dinah, giving Edaniel a bewildered look.
"Oh, my! Royalty!" continued the ghost, unaware of Dinah's reservations. "I shall bring out my finest tea set. You do drink tea in the exotic land of Bahita, don't you? Oh, you must tell me all about your fair land! I have never left Bizenghast myself. It must be utterly wonderful to travel the world and sample all the foreign breakfasts. But I am content, you know. I love my cozy inn, and it gives me plenty of time to experiment with muffins and teas and spreads, and that's how my famous Breakfast Special came to be. Would you like some?"
"Um," said Dinah.
"You better believe it," said Edaniel.
The ghost clapped her hands joyfully, and practically skipped through the doorway into the front room. "Please, please have a seat at the table. I'll just duck into the kitchen and whip Your Highness up the most delectable petit déjeuner you have ever tasted!" And with a laugh and a suspicious gust of cold wind, the ghost had vanished.
Vincent shook his head. "A breakfast obsessed ghost. How exactly are we supposed to put her to rest?"
"Maybe she died cooking breakfast," suggested Edaniel. "An overcooked hardboiled egg exploded in her face and - "
"The yoke was on her?" finished Vincent.
"Vladimir, there is no way I would make joke that pathetic," responded Edaniel, deeply offended. "Not without provocation, anyway."
Dinah didn't answer Vincent's question, but wandered around the front room, touching the white-painted oak table and chairs. The furniture was sturdy and very heavy looking, but to contrast the apparent functionality of the set, small yellow tea roses had been painted onto the backs of the chairs and at the table's corners. On the walls hung faded sepia portraits of people steadfastedly refusing to smile. A dark maple bookcase was almost completely devoid of books, but was home to numerous spiders that had spun webs between crumbling volumes. The curtains were pale muslin, but frayed at the edges and drooping into the empty flowerbox out the open window. Dinah supposed that at some point, the room might have been charming, but now it depressed her. Much like everything else in Creation.
Before Dinah could impart what would surely be a comment to bring the room down, the cold wind returned, dancing around the hem of Dinah's dress. The ghost appeared at a sideboard near the table, carrying a large tarnished tea tray holding a tea pot, four china cups and saucers, tiny pastries and sandwiches, what appeared to be bagels, and a dish of bright orange spread. The ghost had also managed to change her hat while out of sight. She now wore a brimless round cap covered with purple netting and crowned with fanning feathers of white, orange and gray. She no longer resembled a gnome as much as a colorblind peacock.
"Sit, sit!" she cried, seeing them all still lollygagging about. As they did so, the ghost dropped in a deep curtsey to Dinah. "Your Majesty, I am pleased to present you with my favorite dish from my humble kitchen. I prepared it from the finest ingredients available from the tropics. It is my hope that your appetite will be sated by my culinary labors, and that you will ask for seconds." And with that, the ghost rose, brought over a plate carrying a toasted bagel and a shallow dish filled with a bright orange substance. She set both before Dinah and stepped back a respectable distance to observe. Dinah eyed the Day-Glo orange spread warily. She might have been able to eat it were it not for the large brown chunks suspended in the viscous mass.
"Maybe it's lox?" asked Dinah of her companions is a low, hopeful voice.
Edaniel took a deep sniff. "That's about as fishy as a talking green cat."
“That’s pretty fishy to me,” replied Vincent, raising an eyebrow at Edaniel.
“Do I look like a fish to you, Vern? What kind of weird parallel universe are you from?”
Dinah looked mournfully at Vincent. "Maybe I should decline?" she whispered.
"Maybe she'll get mad if you do?" replied an equally clueless Vincent, who was not really equipped for food related conflicts. "Maybe I should taste test it?"
"Eat it! Eat it! Eat it!" chanted Edaniel.
Vincent glared at Edaniel, and addressed the ghost. "Madam, I don't mean to insult you or anything, but Her Majesty is a very important personage. As such, she is not allowed to dine without proper testing. That is to say, I need to sample your dishes before allowing Di- Her Highness to eat."
"Oh, no," said the ghost, "I understand completely. I'm sure Bahita has many enemies that wish to usurp Her Esteemedship's throne."
"Yeah," said Edaniel. "Like those darn Fajitaians."
"Pray continue," said the ghost. "I have nothing but concern for the safety of your Queen."
Vincent, the brave soul, took up the butter knife and hacked out a considerable portion of the orange and brown-chunked spread. With heroic determination, he spread the goop over the now-cold toast bagel. With noble self-sacrifice, he took a large bite of the mystery stuff.
And promptly spat it back out.
For a split second, there was absolute silence throughout the room. But once the moment lingered into awkward discomfort, Dinah ventured, "Vincent? Are you all right? What was it?"
"Chocolate chip mango," whispered Vincent with wide eyes.
All eyes slid to the ghost, who was mysteriously silent at Vincent's rude behavior. Her lips were trembling and a chill wind was running about the floorboards, but she seemed to be attempting to maintain a polite exterior. "Was something not to your liking?" she asked in a firmly controlled voice.
Sensing he was about to venture into perilous, dead-teenage-boy territory, Vincent attempted to mask his disgust with her obviously much beloved spread. "Oh, no, no. I just...don't like bagels is all."
The ghost stalked across the floor and placed her hands on the table. “YOU DON’T LIKE BAGELS?” She pressed her hands hard against the table until it cracked, and then shattered beneath her hands.
Edaniel sighed deeply. “Nice job, Vittorio. Way to be.”
“I didn’t mean to offend her!” said Vincent defensively. It was difficult to appreciate this sentiment, however, as a sudden wind was sweeping through the front room to swirl malignantly around Agatha Carver, The Breakfast Ghost. The air, which had been growing increasingly frigid as the conversation progressed, suddenly turned as hot and dry as a wind sweeping off an arid desert. The wind crashed about the room, ripping down the curtains, flinging the books from the shelves into the photographs on the walls, and lifting the ghost straight off the ground. Her peacock hat flew off her head, and Dinah had to duck to avoid being smacked in the face by tackily dyed feathers.
"You don't like the bagels?!" shouted the ghost. "I made those bagels from scratch! The very wheat used to make those bagels was grown on my property."
"It's not your bagels!" attempted Vincent. "It's all bagels! Bagels in general! Bagels as a genre! Besides, you can't know about bagels! It's not your time period!"
"YOU DISPARAGE MY BAGEL KNOWLEDGE?!" roared the ghost, the wind rising to an incredible pitch. Dinah screamed as the windows blew out, sending shattered glass swirling around the room.
Realizing he wouldn't be able to talk the ghost down, Vincent turned to Dinah and shouted, "Run!" But Dinah was frozen in horror as, in the next moment, the ghost's deadly hot air wrapped around Vincent and tossed him straight to the ceiling. With a loud crack, Vincent's head left a large dent in the ceiling, causing small white flakes to chip off and join the flotsam and jetsam churning about the room.
Dinah screamed again, and Edaniel ran halfway up a wall. "Death by chocolate chip mango!" he shouted. "Gooey, chunky, fruity, chocolately DEATH! We're gonna die! Wait, no. I'm already dead. You're gonna die!"
"You're all the same!" shouted the ghost. "You have no imagination! No appreciation for creativity! You want the same bacon and eggs breakfast every morning! Muffins with blueberries in them! BLUEBERRIES! How passé! You've driven me to the shadows with your narrow-minded cookery! I WON'T LET YOU DENY ME THE ONE JOY OF MY LIFE!"
"Well," said Edaniel. "I think we found out what her problem was."
Vincent was half-heartedly fighting the ghost wind's grip on him, but was still dazed from getting his head knocked on the ceiling. Dinah was in a state of panic. She had to make the ghost let go of Vincent, but how? What could distract her from her rage?
A sudden burst of inspiration caused Dinah to dive across the floor, narrowly avoid being struck by a flying crockery set, and grab up the bagel with chocolate chip mango spread that Vincent had dropped when he'd been hurled to the ceiling. Her stockings tore as she scrambled toward the enraged ghost, swallowing her fear, and preparing to swallow far worse. Her mind went blank as she stood between the ghost and Vincent, held aloft the bagel to get the ghost's attention, and then took a large bite. "Mmm!" she shouted. "Delicious!"
The wind didn't stop or cool down, but the ghost looked slightly less angry. "Really?" she asked.
"Um, yes," said Dinah. "The fruity flavor complements the bitter chocolate and grainy texture of the bagel." Dinah sincerely hoped this was a compliment.
"I thought so too!" cried the ghost. The wind started to die down, but Vincent remained pinned to the ceiling.
"I would like to order a vat of this concoction," said Dinah slowly. "For, um, all the people of Bahita to enjoy.”
The ghost drifted down to the ground, the wind slowly cooled and ebbed away, and Dinah tried not to jump as books, furniture and tea accessories clattered and shattered to the ground all around her. Vincent was still held aloft though, much to Dinah's relief.
The ghost bit her lip and looked all around her. "You like it, Your Majesty? Truly? I...I've never had anyone actually enjoy eating my special-made delicacies before."
Dinah responded by taking another bite.
The ghost began to smile. "I'm so happy! I've never been so-” And with a brilliant flash of light and a sound like a thousand whisks beating eggs, the ghost rose heavenward and promptly disappeared. Unfortunately, without the ghost present to bear him up, Vincent crashed to the debris-covered ground.
“VINCENT!” shrieked Dinah. She watched helplessly as Vincent hit the floor with a heavy thud.
Vincent rolled to his back to immediately assure Dinah he wasn’t dead so she would stop screaming. He already had a tremendous headache. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m all right! My arm landed on a broken teacup, and it’s cut. But, I’m all right, I swear.”
“Holy Batsammiches, Vincent!” cried Edaniel, leaping over to study Vincent’s right arm, which was sporting a nasty gash. “That looks pretty serious.”
“It hurts all right, but I don’t think it’s a mortal wound or anything,” replied Vincent, rolling gingerly to his left elbow and pushing off the ground. “Might be broken too. And, hey! You got my name right!”
Edaniel shrugged. “Had to happen eventually. There are only so many ‘V’ names.”
"C'mon, let's get out of here before some ghost shows up to make us lunch," said Vincent, cradling his arm and wobbly getting to his feet.
“How do we get out?” asked Dinah. “Usually when the ghost leaves we just disapp-”
(Author's Note: I may be one of the first people able to say this, but this is written with complete permission from the author. I do not, however, have permission from the publisher, so, Bizenghast belongs to M. Alice LeGrow and TokyoPop. This was started as a contest entry, so anything that seems really weird is probably a result of that. It helps to have read Bizenghast, but hopefully it will be funny and entertaining anyway.)
Edaniel's Busy Day
Chapter One: Breakfast of the Damned
The house did not belong in a nightmare. It was a simple colonial lounging easily on a natural lawn in box-like simplicity. White pine clapboard aged to an ugly Cape Codder brown. An intricate and lovingly made stonewall; wrought-iron handrails hardly necessary for the two stone steps leading to a bright orange door. A charming hand painted sign hanging over said door, advertising, “Agatha Carver’s Simplicity Inn. Home of the Breakfast Special.”
“This is too easy,” said Vincent. “Where are the two-headed fish monsters trying to bait us on ten foot stainless steel hooks? Where are the overly complicated riddles? Why is there a ghost serving breakfast?”
“Quit asking questions, Virgil” replied Edaniel. “Be grateful you’re getting breakfast at all.”
Dinah, not wanting to jinx their small group or get involved in a Vincent-Edaniel insult/non-sequitur-fest, wisely stayed silent and knocked on the bright orange door. With an undignified squeak, the door opened to reveal a tiny, middle-aged ghost with a rather ridiculous hat. The hat was small, round, green and covered in an oyster-colored gauze. Planted in the center of the hat were two stuffed birds of an indeterminate species and a collection of green sprouts that might have been plants in their owner’s previous life. The hat, combined with the ghost’s graying brown hair and short stature, made the former woman look like a gnome.
“Hullo,” said the ghost woman. “Welcome to my inn, travelers! I’d be happy to show you into the front room. I have a nice fire going, and then I can make you some breakfast!”
“Oh,” said Dinah, taken aback by the ghost’s enthusiasm and lack of attempts to kill her, “we don’t really need breakfast--”
“Nonsense!” cried the ghost, looking slightly affronted. “I insist you let me make you my famous Breakfast Special! Now, please, please, step inside.” The ghost attempted to take Vincent’s overcoat as she hustled the young woman, young man and green, pointy cat-thing into the house. “May I ask your names?” The ghost continued to chat them up as she led them through the foyer and a narrow hallway to the front room.
Edaniel took up the question. “I’m Edaniel, sister. And this is Princess Zita, ruler of Bahita,” he said, gesturing to Dinah. “Oh, and that’s some guy.” Edaniel waved his paw in Vincent’s general direction.
“Ooh, royalty! I’ve never had royalty in my home before. I’m honored to meet you, Your Highness,” squeaked the ghost with a little curtsey.
“Likewise, I’m sure,” said Dinah, giving Edaniel a bewildered look.
"Oh, my! Royalty!" continued the ghost, unaware of Dinah's reservations. "I shall bring out my finest tea set. You do drink tea in the exotic land of Bahita, don't you? Oh, you must tell me all about your fair land! I have never left Bizenghast myself. It must be utterly wonderful to travel the world and sample all the foreign breakfasts. But I am content, you know. I love my cozy inn, and it gives me plenty of time to experiment with muffins and teas and spreads, and that's how my famous Breakfast Special came to be. Would you like some?"
"Um," said Dinah.
"You better believe it," said Edaniel.
The ghost clapped her hands joyfully, and practically skipped through the doorway into the front room. "Please, please have a seat at the table. I'll just duck into the kitchen and whip Your Highness up the most delectable petit déjeuner you have ever tasted!" And with a laugh and a suspicious gust of cold wind, the ghost had vanished.
Vincent shook his head. "A breakfast obsessed ghost. How exactly are we supposed to put her to rest?"
"Maybe she died cooking breakfast," suggested Edaniel. "An overcooked hardboiled egg exploded in her face and - "
"The yoke was on her?" finished Vincent.
"Vladimir, there is no way I would make joke that pathetic," responded Edaniel, deeply offended. "Not without provocation, anyway."
Dinah didn't answer Vincent's question, but wandered around the front room, touching the white-painted oak table and chairs. The furniture was sturdy and very heavy looking, but to contrast the apparent functionality of the set, small yellow tea roses had been painted onto the backs of the chairs and at the table's corners. On the walls hung faded sepia portraits of people steadfastedly refusing to smile. A dark maple bookcase was almost completely devoid of books, but was home to numerous spiders that had spun webs between crumbling volumes. The curtains were pale muslin, but frayed at the edges and drooping into the empty flowerbox out the open window. Dinah supposed that at some point, the room might have been charming, but now it depressed her. Much like everything else in Creation.
Before Dinah could impart what would surely be a comment to bring the room down, the cold wind returned, dancing around the hem of Dinah's dress. The ghost appeared at a sideboard near the table, carrying a large tarnished tea tray holding a tea pot, four china cups and saucers, tiny pastries and sandwiches, what appeared to be bagels, and a dish of bright orange spread. The ghost had also managed to change her hat while out of sight. She now wore a brimless round cap covered with purple netting and crowned with fanning feathers of white, orange and gray. She no longer resembled a gnome as much as a colorblind peacock.
"Sit, sit!" she cried, seeing them all still lollygagging about. As they did so, the ghost dropped in a deep curtsey to Dinah. "Your Majesty, I am pleased to present you with my favorite dish from my humble kitchen. I prepared it from the finest ingredients available from the tropics. It is my hope that your appetite will be sated by my culinary labors, and that you will ask for seconds." And with that, the ghost rose, brought over a plate carrying a toasted bagel and a shallow dish filled with a bright orange substance. She set both before Dinah and stepped back a respectable distance to observe. Dinah eyed the Day-Glo orange spread warily. She might have been able to eat it were it not for the large brown chunks suspended in the viscous mass.
"Maybe it's lox?" asked Dinah of her companions is a low, hopeful voice.
Edaniel took a deep sniff. "That's about as fishy as a talking green cat."
“That’s pretty fishy to me,” replied Vincent, raising an eyebrow at Edaniel.
“Do I look like a fish to you, Vern? What kind of weird parallel universe are you from?”
Dinah looked mournfully at Vincent. "Maybe I should decline?" she whispered.
"Maybe she'll get mad if you do?" replied an equally clueless Vincent, who was not really equipped for food related conflicts. "Maybe I should taste test it?"
"Eat it! Eat it! Eat it!" chanted Edaniel.
Vincent glared at Edaniel, and addressed the ghost. "Madam, I don't mean to insult you or anything, but Her Majesty is a very important personage. As such, she is not allowed to dine without proper testing. That is to say, I need to sample your dishes before allowing Di- Her Highness to eat."
"Oh, no," said the ghost, "I understand completely. I'm sure Bahita has many enemies that wish to usurp Her Esteemedship's throne."
"Yeah," said Edaniel. "Like those darn Fajitaians."
"Pray continue," said the ghost. "I have nothing but concern for the safety of your Queen."
Vincent, the brave soul, took up the butter knife and hacked out a considerable portion of the orange and brown-chunked spread. With heroic determination, he spread the goop over the now-cold toast bagel. With noble self-sacrifice, he took a large bite of the mystery stuff.
And promptly spat it back out.
For a split second, there was absolute silence throughout the room. But once the moment lingered into awkward discomfort, Dinah ventured, "Vincent? Are you all right? What was it?"
"Chocolate chip mango," whispered Vincent with wide eyes.
All eyes slid to the ghost, who was mysteriously silent at Vincent's rude behavior. Her lips were trembling and a chill wind was running about the floorboards, but she seemed to be attempting to maintain a polite exterior. "Was something not to your liking?" she asked in a firmly controlled voice.
Sensing he was about to venture into perilous, dead-teenage-boy territory, Vincent attempted to mask his disgust with her obviously much beloved spread. "Oh, no, no. I just...don't like bagels is all."
The ghost stalked across the floor and placed her hands on the table. “YOU DON’T LIKE BAGELS?” She pressed her hands hard against the table until it cracked, and then shattered beneath her hands.
Edaniel sighed deeply. “Nice job, Vittorio. Way to be.”
“I didn’t mean to offend her!” said Vincent defensively. It was difficult to appreciate this sentiment, however, as a sudden wind was sweeping through the front room to swirl malignantly around Agatha Carver, The Breakfast Ghost. The air, which had been growing increasingly frigid as the conversation progressed, suddenly turned as hot and dry as a wind sweeping off an arid desert. The wind crashed about the room, ripping down the curtains, flinging the books from the shelves into the photographs on the walls, and lifting the ghost straight off the ground. Her peacock hat flew off her head, and Dinah had to duck to avoid being smacked in the face by tackily dyed feathers.
"You don't like the bagels?!" shouted the ghost. "I made those bagels from scratch! The very wheat used to make those bagels was grown on my property."
"It's not your bagels!" attempted Vincent. "It's all bagels! Bagels in general! Bagels as a genre! Besides, you can't know about bagels! It's not your time period!"
"YOU DISPARAGE MY BAGEL KNOWLEDGE?!" roared the ghost, the wind rising to an incredible pitch. Dinah screamed as the windows blew out, sending shattered glass swirling around the room.
Realizing he wouldn't be able to talk the ghost down, Vincent turned to Dinah and shouted, "Run!" But Dinah was frozen in horror as, in the next moment, the ghost's deadly hot air wrapped around Vincent and tossed him straight to the ceiling. With a loud crack, Vincent's head left a large dent in the ceiling, causing small white flakes to chip off and join the flotsam and jetsam churning about the room.
Dinah screamed again, and Edaniel ran halfway up a wall. "Death by chocolate chip mango!" he shouted. "Gooey, chunky, fruity, chocolately DEATH! We're gonna die! Wait, no. I'm already dead. You're gonna die!"
"You're all the same!" shouted the ghost. "You have no imagination! No appreciation for creativity! You want the same bacon and eggs breakfast every morning! Muffins with blueberries in them! BLUEBERRIES! How passé! You've driven me to the shadows with your narrow-minded cookery! I WON'T LET YOU DENY ME THE ONE JOY OF MY LIFE!"
"Well," said Edaniel. "I think we found out what her problem was."
Vincent was half-heartedly fighting the ghost wind's grip on him, but was still dazed from getting his head knocked on the ceiling. Dinah was in a state of panic. She had to make the ghost let go of Vincent, but how? What could distract her from her rage?
A sudden burst of inspiration caused Dinah to dive across the floor, narrowly avoid being struck by a flying crockery set, and grab up the bagel with chocolate chip mango spread that Vincent had dropped when he'd been hurled to the ceiling. Her stockings tore as she scrambled toward the enraged ghost, swallowing her fear, and preparing to swallow far worse. Her mind went blank as she stood between the ghost and Vincent, held aloft the bagel to get the ghost's attention, and then took a large bite. "Mmm!" she shouted. "Delicious!"
The wind didn't stop or cool down, but the ghost looked slightly less angry. "Really?" she asked.
"Um, yes," said Dinah. "The fruity flavor complements the bitter chocolate and grainy texture of the bagel." Dinah sincerely hoped this was a compliment.
"I thought so too!" cried the ghost. The wind started to die down, but Vincent remained pinned to the ceiling.
"I would like to order a vat of this concoction," said Dinah slowly. "For, um, all the people of Bahita to enjoy.”
The ghost drifted down to the ground, the wind slowly cooled and ebbed away, and Dinah tried not to jump as books, furniture and tea accessories clattered and shattered to the ground all around her. Vincent was still held aloft though, much to Dinah's relief.
The ghost bit her lip and looked all around her. "You like it, Your Majesty? Truly? I...I've never had anyone actually enjoy eating my special-made delicacies before."
Dinah responded by taking another bite.
The ghost began to smile. "I'm so happy! I've never been so-” And with a brilliant flash of light and a sound like a thousand whisks beating eggs, the ghost rose heavenward and promptly disappeared. Unfortunately, without the ghost present to bear him up, Vincent crashed to the debris-covered ground.
“VINCENT!” shrieked Dinah. She watched helplessly as Vincent hit the floor with a heavy thud.
Vincent rolled to his back to immediately assure Dinah he wasn’t dead so she would stop screaming. He already had a tremendous headache. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m all right! My arm landed on a broken teacup, and it’s cut. But, I’m all right, I swear.”
“Holy Batsammiches, Vincent!” cried Edaniel, leaping over to study Vincent’s right arm, which was sporting a nasty gash. “That looks pretty serious.”
“It hurts all right, but I don’t think it’s a mortal wound or anything,” replied Vincent, rolling gingerly to his left elbow and pushing off the ground. “Might be broken too. And, hey! You got my name right!”
Edaniel shrugged. “Had to happen eventually. There are only so many ‘V’ names.”
"C'mon, let's get out of here before some ghost shows up to make us lunch," said Vincent, cradling his arm and wobbly getting to his feet.
“How do we get out?” asked Dinah. “Usually when the ghost leaves we just disapp-”