Johnny Ghost and the House Keeper's Wife


Safe-ish version

Chapter 1: The Hoodie ManEdit

1995, a house in North Carolina

In a house in North Carolina, as mentioned in the bold text above because this "remaster" is mostly half-assed, two men were sound asleep in a room littered with bottles filled with urine, vomit, a strange black substance resembling residue of the fabric of time and space, etc. In general, it was a terrible mess, as the duo threw an all-night macaroni party the night before. A slim young (alien) man, clad in a gray hoodie, slept across an old shiny couch in the living room. As he was day dreaming about adopting a family of trees, the phone next to him rang, scaring the shit out of him.

He lazily reached around for the phone on the coffee table, pulling it close to him when he found it.


"Mr. Ghost?"

"Who is this?"

"The 17th century French ghost who's an undead stereotype who also wants to get inside your hoodie."

"Oh. Wai-why are you calling me? How do you even know how to use a phone? You died hundreds of-"

"Ghost magic, I ain't gotta explain shit, bitch. Anyway, I was walkin' 'round the neighborhood when I found a ghost, who was up to no good, eatin' people in my neighborhood. I made only little call and little Ghostie said, 'How do you even know how to use a phone?'"

"Wait, eating people?"

"Very much so. I was trying to calm someone I accidentally appeared to, when this ghost bitch in a wedding dress bit his head off like a piece of celery or somin'. Shizzle's messed up, home dog."

"Alright... What's the address?"

'291- Acachalla street.'



He dropped the phone back on the table, sighing. He stayed there for a good minute, before realizing that he has parasites in his bones that start eating away at his kidney if he doesn't move for extended periods of time. He sprung over, stretching his arms over his head as he looked over at the coffee table. Bowls of old, uncooked macaroni, a blunt, and his bag. He rubbed his eyes and grabbed the bag, throwing it over his shoulder as he got up. He carefully stepped around bottles of whiskey and vodka, reaching the front door. Johnny Toast was at the computer desk, barely awake with a bottle of rum in his hand.

"I'm going out." he said, running his hand through the Bud Utah dudebro's hair. Bud Utah is the country where he was born, before he was put in a box and sent into the sea, where he was found and adopted by the Queen of England.

"Y-yeah... Invest in bitcoin before its too late..." muttered Toast, Ghost nodding in agreement and heading out.

Chapter 8: Many Happy ReturnsEdit

A lone soldier sat in a plane of eternal darkness, small bursts of green electricity appearing all around him. His mind was clear, as if he were stuck in eternal oblivion. He was at peace, for a very long time. However, his brain soon lit up like the Citadel, and his lungs were filled with air. An entity in a blue suit stood before him, hands behind his back as he stared with bright green eyes. The marine's arms and legs were completely relaxed, and he felt as if he forgot how to use them. As the memories began to flood back into him, he adopted a scowl. The last thing he remembered was leading a grand battle on Naboo, before his vision suddenly faded as he found himself... here.

"Now I know you're mad at me, because I plucked you away from your little shore leave to Omega.. But believe me, if you do good on this assignment, I might let you return and... smell.. whatever roses they have in that galaxy." he said, rubbing his hands together all creepy like. He didn't get a response from the marine, so he continued.

"You see... my kin has taken an extended vacation to your pla-ne-t. As his DNA is muchhh more com-pli-cated than yours, human-like reproduction rituals... well, screwed up his mate. It rendered her deceased, and she later... Am I rambling? My employers tell me I ramble..."

"What do you want me to do?" the marine growled, sighing through his nose as his head hung.

"Straight to the cheese... Yes, I like that. She needs to die. Again. Somehow. My brother keeps ignoring my transdimensional texts and doesn't show up at our weekly family reunions. It's infuriating, really." he said, eyes peering to the side in utter disgust.

"You want me to kill his wife? That's fucked, even for you."

"W-well, let's not jump to conclusions here. She's a ghost, so she's already dead. You're just... putting her to rest, so to speak. Oh, and she murders people and eats mantis babies."

"Oh, that's terrible."

"I concur. There should be less mantis baby eating people in this multiverse." he said, smiling at the idea of somebody actually agreeing with him. That hasn't happened in a few millennia. Nobody takes poor ol' Gman's business schemes seriously, even though he successfully led Gordon Freeman on a galaxy-wide crusade against the Universal Union... After he realized he was just grinning and staring at the sky, he awkwardly coughed and punched his chest.

"Yes, well... Off you go then." he said, swaying his hand as the soldier began to rematerialize.

Butts, North Carolina, 1995, at a McDonald's at 291- Acachalla street

A black Ford Taurus rolled up to the McDonald's, police cars and SWAT vans dotted around the property. Inside the car was an awfully handsome man, jawline chiseled by Odin himself, head leaning onto a cellphone on his shoulder as he found a place to park.

"Yeah, it's the right place, Melvin. I-I know it isn't the KFC, I'm looking at it right now." the man said, sighing as he parked the Ford. "Okay, I'll call you when I get back to Washington." he said, pulling out the phone and ending the call. He took a glance at the stack of photos and newspaper clippings the Gunmen gave him, mostly featuring sightings of "Der Großmann", some ancient German tall tale, and various UFO sightings and some ghost stories. All of them had one thing in common; they were all near this specific restaurant. Not to mention planes crashing after passing the McDonald's, random spikes of radiation, and an unusual number of city-wide power outages. And the dead bodies found inside. Something spooky was going down, or Mulder's name isn't Fox William "Spooky Joe Diddleson Doo" Mulder for nothing. This info dump is getting out of hand. Back to the story. Mulder stepped out of the car, seeing a suited figure speaking to a police captain beside a SWAT van, accompanied by a marine wielding a MP5-SD3. Almost instantly did he set off a red flag, with the Black Mesa logo residing on the briefcase. What's Black Mesa doing at a crime scene?

Meanwhile, far away from hereEdit

It had been hours since Ghost left his residence, leaving Toast to fend for himself. After Toast realizes that the town is under siege by mantis men, he grabs a SPAS-12 and runs outside, realizing that the Ghostmobile was taken by Ghost. He grumbles in rage, before running to a car and pulling the old lady out of it, beating the poop out of her before stealing the car and driving away at super sonic speed. He hits thousands of mantis men and civilians, killing thousands, until he hits a rock and flies off the continent and leaves the atmosphere. The car starts to burn up, Toast screaming like a maniac. The sheer might of his vocal cords causes the car to go in reverse, crashing in super sonic speed and blowing up North Korea in a green mushroom cloud. Then a bunch of engineers arrived and began building minisentries, and also repairing North Korea, and repairs were finished within a day. Toast was apprehended and sentenced to death by Korean officials, though he broke out of prison and went on a massacre, wiping out 67% of the North Korean population before fleeing back to America via yacht.