CHAPTER ONEJanosz Poha hadn’t had a good year. Oh, certainly, there were one or two highlights—successfully obtaining a few grants at the Manhattan Museum of Art, accompanied by a nice, big raise and subsequent move to a new apartment (one of those strange “Victorian revival” penthouse suites, available completely furnished at a reasonable price)—but the poor curator still wasn’t happy. It was probably just the oncoming New York winter, and its near-constant snow, slush, ice, and cold, cold, cold, that made him feel grouchy—and he was never really a fan of the Holiday Season anyway–but this year it made Janosz’s mind turn toward his ignominious defeat the year previously.
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Curse those Ghostbusters, he thought. First they had to shatter my dreams of love to pieces, and wreck Lord Vigo’s plans, but then they had to add insult to injury by leaving me dripping with goo!
The effects of the positively-charged mood slime had long since worn off, and all his good feelings were now replaced with those dreaded winter blues, coupled with the fact that his water now took a while to get hot; indeed, that was the one and only flaw in his new apartment. There he stood, waiting for some hot water so that he could start the dishes, but the water was only lukewarm—and then it stopped completely.
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“I wonder if my neighbors are having problems like this,” he sighed. “Better go and call the superin…hmm?” He paused, noticing the odd gurgling noises coming from within the pipes. He opened the cupboard underneath, expecting to find some leak under the sink, but there was no water under there. He heard a sudden gushing noise above him, and he found something unusual in the basin. It was a thick, pink sludge. He put his hand in, picked some of it up, and confirmed his suspicions.
“The slime has returned,” he said. “At long last, I will be vindicated!” The slime took on its full power, and brought out all of Janosz’s darkest thoughts, which he articulated in a good, soul-cleansing, Evil Laugh.
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“Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
TO BE CONTINUED.