Morgan’s Fate

A Tweet reply that went a bit long

Sometimes I may get a “bit” carried away.

On the Third of August in the pre-dystopian age of 2023 one Morgan Wright, world-renowned animated book cover illustrator, author, shopaholic, and Queen of Hell (Duh) did post this simple query on her Twitter feed (I’m with ya Morgan, I REFUSE to call it “X”.)

Morgan expressed great enthusiam for a night at the Abandoned Insane Asylum and asked who was coming with. My reply went slightly over, by about 2,239 characters. So I added even more, then published it here. So Morgan, here’s your reply:

I’ve got yer back Morgan. I’m with you so long as the Asylum is so far out in the middle of nowhere that we reach the end of the road cuz a landslide took the rest out so we walk as the sun is setting, furtively glancing at the dark forest down the vale below the Old Mansion on the Hill where we decide to spend the first night but all we hear above the rain that wasn’t falling a minute ago but I thought it would sound more cooler so anyway all we hear are hollow footsteps and creepy creakings that keep us awake until a disembodied voice tells us to run or suffer the fate of the Sadholm family so we run as fast as we can, which isn’t too fast cuz I’m old and you’re in heels, and before we know it we’re in the middle of a dark forest with a fog reminiscent of dry ice on a 1940’s Universal Pictures set gently crawling it’s way along the dry dead ground causing an eerie silence that allows us to hear the muffled breath and quiet steps of what could only be an unwholesome being of teeth, fur, and claws so we certainly didn’t need to hear more than the first howl before you walked away briskly in your heels and I ran-limped along with you until you tripped on a piece of a headstone and we realized that not only were we running through a dark forest with unwholesome creatures in an attempt to avoid the disembodied fate of the Sadholm family which no one knew any facts about because I haven’t written that yet but we had no time to consider because while at first you thought you were woozy from twisting your ankle on the headstone, because that happens.., we then realized that the very ground under our feet was churning so once again we briskly-ran-limped onward but not before a rotting hand bursts from the ground grabbing at you but it misses and only succeeds in breaking off your heel, yes I know, anyway at this point you are beyond pissed and the poor lil sumthin in the ground that thought it knew what death was suddenly finds out that you aren’t just “called” The Queen of Hell (Duh) so onward we go with me staying a bit away as the flames emanating from you because of the broken heel are quite warm but anyway we finally reach the Asylum where all sorts of creepiness awaits us, yet there is nothing there because between your flames and my run-on sentences, intentionally bad punctuation, and overusage of the word “so” all the ghoulies were either crisp fried or they fell back down to hell as they passed out from this slightly-over-eighty-character story, then a bunch of people show up using the back service road we never knew was right there and someone who brought a portable studio puts on Party Rock by LMFAO and we all have a most excellent time, saved by your flames of “don’t EVER touch my things again!”-ness and my ability to zombify a zombie with my ramblings. And it’s such an awesome time that you don’t even play with your hair once!

The end.

But yeah, I’d take the Haunted Mansion first.

~Phil~