(This is a silly fanfiction the Haunted Mansion is owed by Disney. The ghosts own themselves. Megan is mine.)


Hattie wasn't pleased.

No, by thunder, he had had quite enough.

He tottered into the kitchen where Megan, and the Hitchhikers were having a cup of tea, and sputtered like a Model T that was refusing to turn over. He cocked his head, and stared at Megan.

"Well, I hope you're happy," he growled.

Ezra extended a protective arm in front of her. Hattie might be a seasoned spook, but when he got himself worked up, he was a force to be reckoned with.

"They said we're not real!" Hattie fairly shouted, sending himself into a coughing fit.

Phineas floated over, and gave him a spoonful of his nerve tonic. The old ghost grimmaced, and gulped air.

"Ninety percent moonshine," Ezra whispered to Megan.

"What's the other ten percent?" she asked.

"You don't wanna know, Doll," he replied quietly.

"Again," said Hattie. Phineas gave him another spoonful, and they watched as the old ghoul slumped lower, and lower onto his cane.

Then, they nearly fell back, as he suddenly bolted upright.

"Who said you weren't real," asked Megan cautiously.

Hattie sputtered even louder, thumping his cane on the floor for effect. "Why the mortals, of course! They got a look at some technical mumbo jumbo; and now they've decided that we're all a bunch of...of.."

His head disappeared, and reappeared in his hatbox. "Bugaboos is the word I think you're looking for," it said helpfully.

"Yes, thank you..bugaboos," Hattie said, now back on his neck. "What in perdition does your kind want?" he huffed at Megan. "Perhaps some sort of floor show? Or shall we have a fireworks display in the portrait gallery ?"

Ezra was now standing fully in front of Megan while she peeked at Hattie from behind his shoulder.

"Mortals! Hattie said, "What do they expect an old spook to do? Mortals! I'm beside myself with the lot of you! You want scares..then you laugh. Tell me, What do you want?"

Ezra the game show model, held up a tiki mug.

Hattie scowled at it. "No, don't get me started...Mortals! We can terrify 'til our faces turn blue..Mortals! Then they say that they don't believe in you."

The Hitchhikers made a chorus. "Why can't they just be frightened..suspend their disbelief?"

"Enjoy the show, and spare us the grief!" bellowed Hattie.

Constance materialized in the gallery weilding her axe. "Mortals! Just how many heads do I have to chop?"

The Ghost Host swung in gracefully on his noose . "How "bout a Cirque Du Soleil type drop ?"

"Maybe I should growl at them," purred the Werewoman.

"I'd pay to see that," grinned Ezra, earning himself an elbow to the ribs from Megan.

"Mortals! I've had tennis elbow, since I don't know when," chimed the Coffin Ghost, pushing up his lid.

Hattie looked to Megan. "Meagan my dear, won't you tell them?"

Constance and Hosty appeared behind him.

"WE'RE the magic..and we're here to stay," said Hattie quietly.

And in the next instant the ghosts were gone.

Greatful for the quiet, Megan turned, and took a sip of tea.