[20 / 5 / 10]
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A young GHOST HUNTER roams the desolate wasteland of NORTHERN CALIFORNIA, searching for lost spirits to feed to his VEHICULAR POLTERGEIST.
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Somewhere just outside of the united township of Long Coal, a shambling pile of pale skin, baggy clothes, and Axe body spray lays asleep in the back of his uncle’s Hearse, dreaming about sugar plums and rusty syringes as his uncle unknowingly drives the both of them out into the middle of nowhere.
The car comes to a sudden halt, and shuffling sounds come from the front, stirring the sleeping boy to pry himself out of the small coffin he had been napping in. He shambles his way out, popping open the back and stretching as his bare feet hit cold asphalt.
He walks over to see his Uncle, the elder man obviously not yet aware of his shifty nephew's presence. A smirk grows on the lanky boy's face and he suddenly blurts out, "Yo Uncle Lars look out!"
His uncle jumps in shock, his hand tensing around the object in his hands and turning to see his nephew. He sighs and turns the rest of his body to face the boy, a tired smile on his face, "Oh hey Tucker-" he mutters, before putting what Tucker quickly realizes to be a shotgun right up to his uncle's own chin.
BANG
A rain of cranium and grey matter geysers into the air and paints the pavement in front of the wide eye boy in heaping smears of red.
Instead of screaming, as is the sensible thing to do, the boy simply shuffles away, looking at the mess now staining his jacket. "I just got this fucking shirt dude…" he kicks a pebble at the corpse of his now headless relative.
A long silence fills the vastness around the pale boy, and he sits down in the back of the Hearse, "better move this body… if the sheriff finds this I'm fucked."
"Need help, removing ssssssome evidenccccce?"
The boy turns, eyebrow raised, only to come face to face with a nasty specter of shit cars and formaldehyde.
"Let me help you ssssssonny, I'll deal with all your problemsssss and you'll feed me, sssssoundssss fair to me."
A pit sinks in the poor boy's gut, he has no idea what the fuck is going on, but whats the worst that could happen?
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Somewhere just outside of the united township of Long Coal, a shambling pile of pale skin, baggy clothes, and Axe body spray lays asleep in the back of his uncle’s Hearse, dreaming about sugar plums and rusty syringes as his uncle unknowingly drives the both of them out into the middle of nowhere.
The car comes to a sudden halt, and shuffling sounds come from the front, stirring the sleeping boy to pry himself out of the small coffin he had been napping in. He shambles his way out, popping open the back and stretching as his bare feet hit cold asphalt.
He walks over to see his Uncle, the elder man obviously not yet aware of his shifty nephew's presence. A smirk grows on the lanky boy's face and he suddenly blurts out, "Yo Uncle Lars look out!"
His uncle jumps in shock, his hand tensing around the object in his hands and turning to see his nephew. He sighs and turns the rest of his body to face the boy, a tired smile on his face, "Oh hey Tucker-" he mutters, before putting what Tucker quickly realizes to be a shotgun right up to his uncle's own chin.
BANG
A rain of cranium and grey matter geysers into the air and paints the pavement in front of the wide eye boy in heaping smears of red.
Instead of screaming, as is the sensible thing to do, the boy simply shuffles away, looking at the mess now staining his jacket. "I just got this fucking shirt dude…" he kicks a pebble at the corpse of his now headless relative.
A long silence fills the vastness around the pale boy, and he sits down in the back of the Hearse, "better move this body… if the sheriff finds this I'm fucked."
"Need help, removing ssssssome evidenccccce?"
The boy turns, eyebrow raised, only to come face to face with a nasty specter of shit cars and formaldehyde.
"Let me help you ssssssonny, I'll deal with all your problemsssss and you'll feed me, sssssoundssss fair to me."
A pit sinks in the poor boy's gut, he has no idea what the fuck is going on, but whats the worst that could happen?
