Pantomime

Without any knowledge of why or how, Moptop ran through the halls of the giant opera house, following a dark-haired woman who knew where the treasure was hidden. Guards were stationed throughout, so the pair tried to keep to the shadows, but most of the guards' attention was directed toward the main hall, where the opera was taking place.

The two were knocked off balance when the entire building suddenly lurched, and they could hear a din of complaint from the patrons inside the hall. "This isn't just an opera house, is it?" asked Moptop. "This is . . . a ship?" The woman smiled, gesturing for him to follow.

They ran until they reached a basement just below and adjacent to the stage. The woman produced two Victorian costumes and a case of stage makeup. "Come on," she said, tossing the grey suit and top hat to Moptop. "We've got to get across the ship, and this is the quickest way."

"Across the stage?"

"Time for our entrance," she said, slyly.

Not knowing what he was doing, Moptop stepped onto the empty stage with the woman. The hall was completely silent, and all attention was on them. Slow, delicate harp music began to play, and the pair began their performance. Despite not knowing the context of the scene or even what opera this was, Moptop found it remarkably easy to improvise simply by following the woman's movements. Besides, he figured that most eyes were on her, anyway, as she was strikingly beautiful. The subdued music faded to its end, and the two struck their final pose. The hall remained hushed for a moment, but an ovation slowly and steadily grew. The woman again slyly smiled at Moptop, and whispered, "Three, two, one." The pair jumped down a chute on the stage, emerging in another hallway and continuing their search.

As they rounded another corner of the again-turbulent ship, Moptop was stopped by a burly man with a large mustache. "Hey, you there! I desperately need your help!"

Moptop did not want to leave the woman, but felt he had no choice but to go with the man. He cast a desperate glance over his shoulder as he walked away, but she was already gone.

The man led him outside the ship, to the edge of a great desert. There was a large field of seawheat here, which was thrashing about wildly in the gathering winds. The man handed Moptop a strange, ornately-decorated scythe and yelled, in order to be heard, "We have to get it all harvested before the storm!" Moptop set to work, but it was a struggle as the weather became worse and worse.

"Hey," yelled the man again, who had just noticed Moptop's costume and makeup. "You must be a man of the theatre! Tell me what you think of this!" At this, the man began singing the aria "Won't You Come and Romp With Me" in a slightly unpleasant bass voice. The winds picked up and the electrical storm on the horizon intensified, and Moptop looked on in horror as large arcs of light cut through the distant mountains.

Revenge!

Getting the opportunity to see Johnny Cash promised to be one of the very finest concert experiences of all time. However, as Moptop scanned the crowd, he spied the familiar, angry face of k.d. lang.

There was going to be trouble.

Playtime

The moment he entered the cabin, Moptop knew that something was definitely amiss. The furniture was all rearranged . . . even the dimensions and angles of the walls looked different. He climbed into the loft on the second level, and he found, to his great surprise, dozens of animated toys scurrying about. The sight was absurd. They seemed to be "redecorating" the place in the most destructive way possible, throwing objects around at random.

"Hey!" Moptop shouted. "What's going on here!?"

The three leaders of the toys, strange robot dolls with dice on their heads, looked up from their business and charged at Moptop. Unfortunately for them, they were no larger than two feet tall, so their assault was easily pushed aside.

"Get out!" squeaked the toys. "This is ours now! Get out!"

"What? This is RIDICULOUS!" screamed Moptop.

"Shut up! We're in charge!"

"Argh!"

Moptop picked them up and tossed them out the window. Turning back to the room with a sigh, he began the arduous task of cleaning up.

Mall out of Space

A fugitive in the Extraplanar Citadel, young Moptop hid inside a clothes rack, listening for the footsteps of the Hunters. He knew that his only choice for surviving the night was to elude them until the doors opened at sunrise, but it would be difficult to remain unnoticed in such a closed space, since the Hunters were everything that their name implied--efficient, ruthless, and unrelenting once they had chosen their game.

He heard (or perhaps felt) a presence in the area, and peeked out from behind the clothes. The Hunters had entered and begun searching among the display cases. Young Moptop slipped out and headed in the opposite direction.

Expecting to find that the sun had risen by now, he was dismayed to find that it was still nighttime, and since it was also raining heavily, the Hunters would simply chase him down even if he managed to get through the parking lot.

Luckily, another unforeseen option now presented itself. Spotting a rocketship-styled ride near the vending machines, young Moptop inserted a quarter, climbed inside, and phased back into his own dimension.

Time Off

Moptop figured that, since everyone else was on vacation, it was reasonable that he took a trip, as well. So he booked a flight with the intention of visiting some old friends in the north. When he arrived, however, he couldn't work up the courage to set foot back at Miskatonic, so he drove around aimlessly until coming across a plaza in the center of a small shopping center. "This seems like a good place to rest," he thought, so he parked the car and sat down near the fountain in the center of the square.

Suddenly, he heard a phone ringing from a nearby booth. He decided to answer it, and, to his great surprise, found that it was his father calling.

"Boy," he said, angrily, "You'd better not be in Mexico."

"No. No, I am not. Excuse me . . . I have to go."

He had noticed a tall, handsome man in a suit, carrying a viola and walking through the square. Moptop approached and spoke.

"Excuse me. I regret to inform you that I must kill you now."

The Beautiful Game

Moptop followed his parents as they strolled down the crowded market square, looking for a restaurant or other eating establishment. One building stood out--a giant bar built in a style that resembled half of a stadium. The place was absolutely packed, but, for some reason, the parents seemed set on this as the choice for lunch.

The raucous patrons of the bar were all engaged in the game of keeping a soccer ball in the air, kicking it or bouncing it off their heads hundreds of feet toward the makeshift tarp ceiling of the building. Predictably, the ball eventually came toward Moptop, and he attempted to swat it back into the air with his arm. He missed. The ball hit the ground, and the crowd roared in a mix of anger and derision. Moptop attempted to apologize for his blunder. "Uh, I'm sorry . . . I guess I'm not very athletic anymore." However, the crowd would have none of it, and the mob began to close in on him.

He had little choice but to scurry under the tables toward a back room, which would, hopefully, at least buy him some time as the crowd attempted to squeeze through. As he emerged from beneath the tables headed toward a side door, he was very surprised to find The Quintonian sitting at one of the tables, nonchalantly drinking a glass of tea.

"You should probably go somewhere else to eat," he softly intoned.

"Oh, really, Q? You think I should go eat where the people aren't trying to kill me? YEAH. THANKS."

Xeno-

"So, you can stay in here," said Donbran, gesturing toward a back room with a couch and a TV. "The couch folds out into a bed if you're into that sort of thing. I'm really glad you decided to stay here."

"Thanks, I appreciate this," replied Moptop, who moved his bags into the room and sat down on the couch.

As he was walking out of the room, Donbran paused, adding as an afterthought, "Oh, by the way. I figured you wouldn't mind, but there's been some sort of dwarf that comes into this room. It's invisible most of the time, but sometimes not. Might come in and . . . well, I don't know what he might do. Good night!"

"What!?" Before Moptop could speak, Donbran had closed the door and left him in the dark room.

Hours passed, and, unable to sleep, Moptop perched in the corner of the couch, eying the door. Ellynnorr, who had accompanied him on this journey, came into the room and explained that, sharing his concern about invisible presences in the night, she had also been unable to sleep. The two stayed awake well into the night, chatting to alleviate the tension of keeping watch.

Hours passed, and just as he was about to drift into sleep, Moptop reclined and cast a final glance across the room. He saw a four-foot-tall figure standing behind the TV, staring at him with completely black eyes.

Spooktacular (Postlude)

As Moptop and Montano wandered the immense labyrinth, which seemed to have no end, they passed the time by discussing their favorite pop music from the 1980s.

"I'd have to say that The Cure edges out Depeche Mode for me. Just by a little."

"Oh, I don't know. Depeche Mode was really important in the development of new wave. They were really a continuation of what Kraftwerk was doing before."

However, Moptop noticed that Montano had a deep wound in his shoulder, which was bleeding profusely.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked.

"Oh, that? Yeah, I wouldn't worry about that," Montano replied.

"It looks pretty serious."

"No, it's nothing. Really."

Spooktacular

Moptop and Montano found themselves leading a phalanx of unruly children, charged with chaperoning them as they performed the yearly trick-or-treating ritual. To make matters worse, they had to go through the exceedingly dangerous Canyon Neighborhood, which was surrounded by sheer cliff drop-offs and thick forests.

The children's parents were already skeptical about the pair being in charge for the night, yet, oddly, did nothing to suggest another course of action. One father shook his fist as they departed, exclaiming, "If you two let our kids get kidnapped by cultists, you'll never hear the end of it!"

Thus, the group set out into the pitch blackness of the forest, en route to the nearby suburban neighborhood. Things immediately got off to a rocky start, as the children did not approve of Montano and Moptop's choice of costumes. Both were wearing rather nondescript skeleton outfits.

"Um, EXCUSE me," said a ten-year-old devil. "We're trying to look cool here. Would you mind not standing so close to us?"

"Sorry--our mistake," said Montano.

The forest path to the suburbs was full of dangerous and bizarre entities, such as a grove of tree-demons. Montano and Moptop were understandably alarmed, but the children seemed unimpressed. At one point, a witch and a rat-like creature also approached the group, and Montano drove them away by throwing rocks and sticks.

"Ugh, you guys SUCK," sighed an eight-year-old princess, rolling her eyes in disgust.

The night dragged on, and after what seemed like hours of wandering through a maze of upper-middle-class housing, the pair began pondering a way to make the night at all beneficial. As they approached the final house on the block, they decided it was now or never, and grabbed treat bags from two of the children.

"Should we try it?" asked Moptop.

"I think so," replied Montano.

Both of them timidly extended their bags, but found a hostile reaction from the woman at the door.

"No," she said, dismissively. "You're too old."

An Other Close Call

As he stood in the midst of literally hundreds of archers on the palisade, Moptop felt a bit out of his element. He'd used a bow before, but his skills were severly limited, at best. Now, as flaming missiles from the enemy's trebuchet scattered across the field, he was expected to defend the castle? The commander gave the word and the men raised their bows.

"Ready!" Moptop struggled to bend back the bowstring, which was nearly as tall as he.

"Aim!" A huge swarm of hell-hounds charged across the field.

"Fire!" Moptop released the string, and the arrow seemingly fell out of his bow in a pathetic arc. The archers standing next to him glared in disapproval. However, a lick of flame from a trebuchet missile caught the fletching of his arrow, and the now-flaming stick spiraled down to the spot where the hell-hounds were now approaching the gate. Due to the apparently highly-flammable nature of the beasts, their entire regiment went up in flames, quelling their attack.

Moptop strongly questioned the likelihood of this turn of events, but determined it best to not dwell on it too much.

I Ain't 'Fraid-a No Wraiths

The spectral figures that roamed the house were less like humanoid forms than swirling clouds of hands, eyes, and mouths. Though transparent, some were black, some were light grey, and others, most terrifyingly, were entirely invisible. These strange entities had absorbed most of the heat from Moptop's house, and he tried to remain hidden as they continually flew around each of the rooms, muttering to themselves in hushed tones.

He slipped from spot to spot for about an hour, hiding behind furniture or whatever cover he could find, making his way to the front door. He knew they wouldn't be able to survive the outside sun, but the trick would be to get outside without their noticing.

Praying he wouldn't be spotted by an invisible one, Moptop sprinted toward the door as soon as a particularly large grey one turned its "back." Dozens of the shadow-figures instantly followed in pursuit, wailing and grabbing at him. He felt invisible grips take hold of his arm and leg, but managed to somehow slip out and successfully jump through the door.

Shivering but thankful to be alive, Moptop leaned against the house's brick facade to catch his breath, and was shocked to see the silhouette of a cat in the window. The animal meowed, then darted away as a shadow-figure approached. There were, in fact, four cats trapped in the house with the shadows, and who knew what could happen to them if they were left alone. Moptop found himself in a quandary. Cats are difficult to catch, but these four were clearly in danger. Could he bring himself to attempt such a dangerous feline rescue?

He had no choice. Grabbing the potted geranium on the porch as his weapon, Moptop charged, screaming, back into the fray.

Passing Grades

Moptop and Jack were browsing the CD section of the warehouse when they were pleasantly surprised to see one of their professors, Dr. Hammerthorn, in the next aisle. Moptop called him over and the three chatted pleasantly for a while. "Do you have any recommendations?" inquired Jack, gesturing to the wide array of albums that surrounded them.

"Hmm. You know, you guys should really be listening to this. Parliament-Funkadelic. Check it out!"

"Ah, yes, that's good stuff," Moptop concurred. The three then said their good-byes and went their separate ways.

As Moptop moved on to another section of the warehouse, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being followed. He continued pretending to nonchalantly browse the aisles, and, as he suspected, he saw a dark figure peek out from behind one of the displays. Turning quickly on his heels, he caught a clearer view of this shadow figure, and realized it was Hammerthorn, though he had undergone a transformation.

Hammerthorn now stood approximately nine feet tall, with a greyish pallor and rows of needles emerging from his skin. Upon the realization that he had been spotted, Hammerthorn cast aside any attempts at stealth and charged toward moptop, shaking his needle-covered fists and screaming, "YOU . . . CANNOT . . . SING!"

A short chase ensued, but, luckily for Moptop, he had a significant advantage of distance. Instead of continuing the pursuit, Hammerthorn skidded to a halt, snatched a bag from one of the warehouse shelves, and threw it.

The bag flew in a perfect arc, hitting Moptop squarely in the face, where it exploded on impact. Now covered in the contents of the bag--brackish water and kelp--Moptop pulled a starfish off his face and looked at the label on the bag. "Assorted Crustaceans." He had never felt such shame.

Bug Battle Debacle

The salesman, wearing a brown checkered suit and straw hat, noticed that Moptop and his companions were browsing the rows of cages in which the battle bugs were nesting. Sensing that the opportunity was ripe, he leaped into action.

"We got the finest bugs in the county, sir! See anything that tickles your fancy?"

"No, not really," replied Moptop. "You make these bugs fight?"

"Yes sir, and we've got some really good ones in stock. Observe!"

The salesman pulled out a green worm with a long, hooked tail, which ended in a wicked-looking stinger. The bug hissed menacingly.

"This one," the salesman proudly declared, "Is our new favorite." He placed the worm in a cage with a giant hornet, which appeared to be covered in a metal shell. The salesman rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

The hornet swooped down in an attempt to sting the worm, but the worm struck out with its tail and easily speared the hornet out of the air.

"Oh, God!" Moptop cried. "Why would you even do that?" The salesman did not reply, but flashed a rather maniacal grin. The other bugs in the cages began to cause a ruckus, and it was quickly revealed why. . . .

A giant spider, larger than a building, was shuffling over the hill. At the same instant, a similarly giant wasp descended from the sky and the two bugs became locked in a fearsome battle not unlike the one that had just taken place, albeit on a much larger scale.

Broken Face

Having to wear the new "business casual" clothing filled Moptop with outright hatred. It wasn't going to fool anyone. He felt a sudden twinge of pain in one of his teeth, possibly from clenching his jaw. He went to look in the mirror, and was horrified to find that one of his teeth had shattered, and blood had begun pouring out of his mouth. He tried to apply pressure to stop the bleeding, but, with a popping noise, half of his jaw was now detached. . . . His beloved orange cat, Simon, could do nothing to help and ran out the door in fright.

The Great Escape

Perhaps it had come to the end of the line. Although they had successfully navigated the dark streets without being detected thus far, the companions knew that it would only be a matter of time before their pursuers split up and surrounded them. They could only hide in the factories for so long.

It was then that Moptop spotted the train. "Over here!" he called to the others. The upper hatch was locked, but there were sufficient handles and footholds for everyone to ride on the outer shell. In the short distance, they could hear the clatter of the troops, who were in hot pursuit. It seemed there was little choice for their course of action.

The four took hold of the train's exterior and Dietrich pulled the starting lever, bringing the machine to life with a lurch. "Hold on!" The train pulled into the tunnel just as the troops rounded the corner, denying them a clear shot. Moptop could barely hear their curses as the train began to pick up speed, putting a safer distance between them. Perhaps everyone could breathe for a moment.

But it was not to be so! Morphine Girl screamed as the upper hatch suddenly popped open and The Wizard emerged.

"AHA!" The Wizard cried in triumph. "Excellent, another victim in my trap!" He brandished a metallic wand, taking aim at Morphine Girl. Moptop and The Creepster were helpless as they watched, for the train continued to accelerate, forcing them to hang on tighter than before. Several metallic orbs began to spin and pulsate around the wand as it charged up.

Luckily, the sound of the wind rushing across the surface of the speeding train was loud enough that The Wizard was unable to hear Dietrich sneak up behind him. With ease, Dietrich grabbed the robes of the much smaller man and tossed him overboard, then chuckled softly to himself. The Wizard's familiar, a clay beetle, shook a tiny leg at Dietrich in rage, then leaped off the train to join his master.

With the hatch now open, the four friends were able to jump inside the train, which was surprisingly well-furnished for a military vehicle. As they took their seats at one of the many restaurant-styled booths that lined the car, The Creepster pulled a bright orange bottle from his pack. "Soooo, who wants gargle-blasters?"

"New Life" Church

Moptop tugged on the door, but it was not merely locked--the outside mechanism had bolted it shut. He and Baldo were now trapped in the church's basement, and there was a deathly chill in the air.

With a loud clanking, a separate mechanism behind the walls activated, opening the pair of thick glass doors on the opposite wall. Simultaneously, the large iron cross on the wall turned upside-down. Baldo cocked his shotgun.

Within seconds, the zombies began shambling through the open doors. Baldo took aim and fired, dispatching at least three, but they continued to inch closer. Moptop removed the fire axe from the wall and, with no small amount of nausea, began chopping through the steadily-approaching wall of undead creatures.

From the corner of his eye, however, Moptop saw that another door had opened on the side wall, so he grabbed Baldo and pulled him along as he made a run for it. The door led through several rooms, one of which was apparently the church kitchen. There was a delicious-looking cake on the counter, presumably as a snack for the youth group. But there was no time!

Critical and Commercial Failure

Remarkably, Moptop and Earthquake had received top billing for the concert, which could prove to be the big break for which they'd always hoped. Since the rest of the band had not been admitted to the school, they assembled a crack team of session musicians to back them up. They were all members of a country band, but Moptop figured they should be more than capable for tonight, at the very least. Earthquake took his usual position as lead singer, and Moptop chose to handle lead guitar duties.

The curtain rose, and Moptop played the fiery intro to "Mission Complete." He raised his guitar into the air, signaling the first entry of the whole band, but when they came in, everything was completely wrong! "Oh no," Moptop thought. He ran over to the pianist, frantically trying to demonstrate the correct part while continuing to play guitar. The pianist nodded, but went back to playing in the wrong key. Moptop continued running around the stage, trying to teach the bass player and drummer their parts on the spot, but they all ignored him and continued playing things unrelated to the song. The crowd began to boo and throw cartons of milk at Earthquake, who was nevertheless in fine voice tonight. The curtain fell before the song ended, effectively ruining Moptop and Earthquake's hopes of making a good impression at the school. Earthquake turned to the rest of the band in anger and began to berate them, one by one. "You," he said, pointing at the pedal steel player, "Are the most useless idiot I have EVER seen!"

One of the school administrators stormed backstage. "I hope you're happy for ruining the whole concert," he sneered. He started to walk away, but turned back. "Oh, and by the way, lunch in the cafeteria is free today."

The two friends sat alone at the meal, too embarrassed to sit with the rest of the new students. Moptop briefly made eye contact with an attractive Asian girl at the large table, but she quickly looked away. "Maybe we should have gone to Concordia," Earthquake muttered.

Expected Responsibilities

A hideous dragon, covered in sparkling, purple gemstones, hovered over the Byzantine-styled church. The beast was poised to destroy it, but before he could deliver the devastating slash of its claws, an unexpected defender appeared. The mosaic of Christ from behind the pulpit had become animated, and dashed onto the scene, blocking the dragon's blow with a sword. The two traded blows until the mosaic connected with a fatal strike with its sword, severing the dragon in half. Various gargoyles and imps fled in terror.

"This is the strangest job training video I've ever seen," thought Moptop.

A Distant Memory

The window had been left slightly ajar, allowing the light of the full moon to enter the room in well-defined beams. It was upon these shafts of light that the robot was able to phase into the room.

After fully materializing, he looked around at the children and their parents.

"Time to go to heaven," he said, gesturing to the rocketship on the front lawn.