We were pulling into town and we smelled smoke. Shaggy remarked that it wasn't the good kind. The bottom of the van was on fire. We all got out to a safe distance while we watched it burn. Fred got under the van with a towel to try to put the fire out. He yelled for help but I just stood there. Daphne ran across the street to a gas station to get a fire extinguisher. Fred's arms had burning oil on them. He could have been killed but he saved the Mystery Machine. I just stood there.
Fred is hardcore. It doesn't matter what gets in our way, or who puts us down, or tries to scare us, Fred will stand his ground. The more garbage that gets thrown his way the more unrelenting he is. His power comes from external forces.
I go into a dark place. I have to psyche myself up. The more people ask of me, the more I just want them to die off.
Friday, February 19, 2016
Friday, February 5, 2016
09.22.69
I met up with the gang in the morning. Velma had done the research on the glowing seaweed. Some phosphorescent underwater stuff that only grows in one part of the area - the "Graveyard of Ships" - same place where Cutler croaked. Do we head right there while our minds and bodies are rested with the warm sun on our backs? No. Our plan is to go at night.
A typical afternoon, boring and depressing, until it's time to act. We head into a scuba shop to prepare for tonight. The place wasn't ready for a group like us. A lot of establishments in this crummy coastal town don't know what they are getting themselves into. When I walked into the scuba shop some dude immediately threw me out. It took a few minutes to convince him I was part of Mystery Inc.
Five scuba suits and a motorboat later, we cruise into the Graveyard. We spot one of the yachts that had gone missing a few days before, only to have it disappear on us in the fog. With us on one side, and a bay of rocks on the other, the only way it could have gone is down.
We dive underwater and see how this place got it's namesake. Sunken ships everywhere. Shaggy and I split off so we can cover more ground. We spot the ghost diver. The hunters have now become the hunted. I swam into a wrecked ship, one filled with hundreds of scuba tanks. This means something. Another clue. Another moment when I thought about how stupid it was for us to split up. Now I had to find the gang, tell them what I saw, and do so without getting caught by some underwater ghoul. Hiding in plain sight didn't work. The ghost diver came up behind me and tried to grab me. I swam away just in time, so that the diver's arms hugged thin air... well, water in this case. I can't count how many times that move has worked for me. Not without a price paid by my body, though. I have a piece of cartilage floating around my knee that reminds me every day.
I reconnect with the gang, who apparently have done nothing this whole time. We come across some faded glowing footprints that lead to a wall of rock. I put my weight on a rock and a section of the rock wall shifts. Secret passage. I'm wondering if I could do this all on my own.
We end up in a giant underwater cavern, filled with yachts. Some are being repainted. All of them look like the missing ships the newspapers have been reporting. Fred decides to set up a trap for the ghost diver, complete with hose, soap, and a net, all of which happen to be handy. It sounds like a good idea, but I take a more direct approach because fuck this weak guy. He haunts this area like he's all heavy, but really it's just an act. I find myself in a boat, covered in water and soap, speeding toward the ghost diver when he makes his appearance on the nearby dock. My boat gets air-time as I hit the dock, landing right on the diver. I got blood all over me.
Some of the others are ready to pull off his helmet and see Ebeneezer Shark, but really it turns out to be Cutler, who faked his own death and started this yacht hijack scam. We solved the mystery and we got our names in the newspaper. I hate the press. It's such bullshit.
A typical afternoon, boring and depressing, until it's time to act. We head into a scuba shop to prepare for tonight. The place wasn't ready for a group like us. A lot of establishments in this crummy coastal town don't know what they are getting themselves into. When I walked into the scuba shop some dude immediately threw me out. It took a few minutes to convince him I was part of Mystery Inc.
Five scuba suits and a motorboat later, we cruise into the Graveyard. We spot one of the yachts that had gone missing a few days before, only to have it disappear on us in the fog. With us on one side, and a bay of rocks on the other, the only way it could have gone is down.
We dive underwater and see how this place got it's namesake. Sunken ships everywhere. Shaggy and I split off so we can cover more ground. We spot the ghost diver. The hunters have now become the hunted. I swam into a wrecked ship, one filled with hundreds of scuba tanks. This means something. Another clue. Another moment when I thought about how stupid it was for us to split up. Now I had to find the gang, tell them what I saw, and do so without getting caught by some underwater ghoul. Hiding in plain sight didn't work. The ghost diver came up behind me and tried to grab me. I swam away just in time, so that the diver's arms hugged thin air... well, water in this case. I can't count how many times that move has worked for me. Not without a price paid by my body, though. I have a piece of cartilage floating around my knee that reminds me every day.
I reconnect with the gang, who apparently have done nothing this whole time. We come across some faded glowing footprints that lead to a wall of rock. I put my weight on a rock and a section of the rock wall shifts. Secret passage. I'm wondering if I could do this all on my own.
We end up in a giant underwater cavern, filled with yachts. Some are being repainted. All of them look like the missing ships the newspapers have been reporting. Fred decides to set up a trap for the ghost diver, complete with hose, soap, and a net, all of which happen to be handy. It sounds like a good idea, but I take a more direct approach because fuck this weak guy. He haunts this area like he's all heavy, but really it's just an act. I find myself in a boat, covered in water and soap, speeding toward the ghost diver when he makes his appearance on the nearby dock. My boat gets air-time as I hit the dock, landing right on the diver. I got blood all over me.
Some of the others are ready to pull off his helmet and see Ebeneezer Shark, but really it turns out to be Cutler, who faked his own death and started this yacht hijack scam. We solved the mystery and we got our names in the newspaper. I hate the press. It's such bullshit.
Wednesday, February 3, 2016
09.21.69
We met up at the malt shop the next day. Shaggy and I were stuffing our faces, while Fred reads the newspaper. Apparently boats have been disappearing near the area for a while now. This dude Ebeneezer Shark was quoted as saying the ghost of Captain Cutler is involved. Newspapers will print anything.
I was pretty miffed and I didn't even care anymore. The only people who showed up to the beach last night were us. The party was a bust. I know mysteries like this are our main gig, but I wasn't putting my all into this investigation. After lunch, Velma took me into the parking lot and straightened me out on a few things. She told me that even though the beach was nearly empty, some spooky shit still went down. That was good enough. She said that you never pull bullshit attitude and you always sleuth your ass off or you don't sleuth at all. She taught me a lot.
So we decide to pay this Shark guy a visit. Do we go out to the docks during the day, when everything looks normal and welcoming? No, of course not. We wait until night, when everything looks dark and eerie. We meet up with Shark, and he tells us how Captain Cutler's boat hit some fancy yacht, shipwrecking his boat and sending the Captain to a watery grave. The ghost of Cutler has been messing with the boats in the area ever since. I didn't want to sit around listening to his shit anymore, so I start sniffing around Shark's boat. Following my nose usually results in a clue or two, and I thrust myself into this investigation, with Velma's advice still stuck in my head. I end up falling below deck, landing near a storage closet that has a diving suit in it. The gang hears the commotion and looks down below at me. Shark explains that the diving suit is his. Uh huh.
After a quick huddle on the dock, Fred and Daphne decide to hang around and spy on Shark, while Velma, Shaggy, and I decide to visit Cutler's widow. Does she live in a regular house on some pleasant beach front property? No, of course not. She lives in a creepy old lighthouse, covered with shadow and fog. We head into Cutler's place, despite the fact that we came unannounced and were not invited. Shaggy thinks the place is decorated for Halloween, but Velma says it's real-deal witchcraft. All sorts of bottles, weird ingredients, and old books are laying about. Cutler's widow shows up out of nowhere. She was upstairs working the lighthouse light. The fact that she didn't care that we were trespassing was odd, but weirder still were here plain and matter-of-fact answers to Velma's questions.
"Yes, my husband is dead. Yes, I summoned his ghost through witchcraft. Yes, he is haunting everyone and I'm cool with it."
I stopped listening after a while, my attention turning to whatever was brewing in a cauldron on the fire. I took a taste and it was good. My life now is basically mysteries and food.
We ditched the witch and walked back along the shoreline. Just a ways away, we saw the ghost diver, walking into a drain pipe. I was the smallest, so of course they wanted me to follow. I don't do well with ghosts, darkness, or tight spaces, so this was a triple threat of danger. But then Velma pulled out the Scooby Snacks. Fuck. I gulped one down, ran into the pipe, and tugged at the first thing to hit my nose. It was a strand of glowing seaweed. Velma was impressed that I had found a clue, but all I wanted was another Snack. Those things are delicious. Gimme some more.
I was pretty miffed and I didn't even care anymore. The only people who showed up to the beach last night were us. The party was a bust. I know mysteries like this are our main gig, but I wasn't putting my all into this investigation. After lunch, Velma took me into the parking lot and straightened me out on a few things. She told me that even though the beach was nearly empty, some spooky shit still went down. That was good enough. She said that you never pull bullshit attitude and you always sleuth your ass off or you don't sleuth at all. She taught me a lot.
So we decide to pay this Shark guy a visit. Do we go out to the docks during the day, when everything looks normal and welcoming? No, of course not. We wait until night, when everything looks dark and eerie. We meet up with Shark, and he tells us how Captain Cutler's boat hit some fancy yacht, shipwrecking his boat and sending the Captain to a watery grave. The ghost of Cutler has been messing with the boats in the area ever since. I didn't want to sit around listening to his shit anymore, so I start sniffing around Shark's boat. Following my nose usually results in a clue or two, and I thrust myself into this investigation, with Velma's advice still stuck in my head. I end up falling below deck, landing near a storage closet that has a diving suit in it. The gang hears the commotion and looks down below at me. Shark explains that the diving suit is his. Uh huh.
After a quick huddle on the dock, Fred and Daphne decide to hang around and spy on Shark, while Velma, Shaggy, and I decide to visit Cutler's widow. Does she live in a regular house on some pleasant beach front property? No, of course not. She lives in a creepy old lighthouse, covered with shadow and fog. We head into Cutler's place, despite the fact that we came unannounced and were not invited. Shaggy thinks the place is decorated for Halloween, but Velma says it's real-deal witchcraft. All sorts of bottles, weird ingredients, and old books are laying about. Cutler's widow shows up out of nowhere. She was upstairs working the lighthouse light. The fact that she didn't care that we were trespassing was odd, but weirder still were here plain and matter-of-fact answers to Velma's questions.
"Yes, my husband is dead. Yes, I summoned his ghost through witchcraft. Yes, he is haunting everyone and I'm cool with it."
I stopped listening after a while, my attention turning to whatever was brewing in a cauldron on the fire. I took a taste and it was good. My life now is basically mysteries and food.
We ditched the witch and walked back along the shoreline. Just a ways away, we saw the ghost diver, walking into a drain pipe. I was the smallest, so of course they wanted me to follow. I don't do well with ghosts, darkness, or tight spaces, so this was a triple threat of danger. But then Velma pulled out the Scooby Snacks. Fuck. I gulped one down, ran into the pipe, and tugged at the first thing to hit my nose. It was a strand of glowing seaweed. Velma was impressed that I had found a clue, but all I wanted was another Snack. Those things are delicious. Gimme some more.
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