Mini-Episode 1:

Morty’s Halloween Havoc

By Dustin Plank

Halloween evening, trick or treat time. In the real world, a pandemic was keeping most of the kids inside, those with parents who cared anyway. Fortunately for the sake of the story, this wasn’t the ‘real’ world so much as it was a ‘reel’ one. In the world of the Show, kids were running around for treats while adults were roaming the alleyways for a quick trick, followed by gonorrhea the next day if they were stupid. Into one of the kid-friendly neighborhoods there walked a tall figure in a hooded cloak. Everyone thought she was a bit old to be trick-or-treating, and they were half-right. This tall, resplendent figure was old, by about 3,000 or so years. But she wasn’t looking for candy.

Her first stop was Old Lady Crowley’s house. Old Crowley was 85 years old, had shaky hands due to arthritis, and was a greeter at the local store. And she was on the list. Striding up the steps to her house, the figure knocked on the door.

As it opened, Madame Morte` struck her most threatening pose and announced, “Alicia Crowley, you time has-

Then Lady Crowley gave her three full size candy bars. “I’m sorry dear,” She said, putting her hand to her ear. “My hearing isn’t that good lately. What was that…?”

Being forced to choose between her job and free food, Morty took the obvious choice. “Thank you, Ms. Crowley!” She stuffed the candy bars into her pockets and before leaving, added, “Have a happy Halloween!” And then set off.

About an hour later, she was sitting on a bench in the park, happily eating one of her bars. “God dammit, I love this time of year…” She said after swallowing a bite of chocolatey almond deliciousness.

Then suddenly, a voice that sounded like something out of an Ingmar Berman movie (or possibly Skyrim) said, “I don’t know if the main office would like you taking a candy break.”

Spinning around, she saw a fellow cloaked figure, though really, he was wearing a hoodie. “Sven!” She cursed. “You almost made me drop my candy bar, asshole!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sven rolled his eyes as he spoke. “Keep slacking off in front of your superior. I’m totally certain nothing will come of it.”

Morty frowned. “If you want one, just fucking tell me.” She knew how fucking Sven worked; he was more of a slacker than she was, but he was also related to the boss which meant nepotism worked in his favor. Fucking Sven…

Sitting down across from her on the bench, Sven lent out his hand and said, “Sure, why not? I’m hungry anyway…”

Reluctantly, and while adding, “Fucking Sven,” under her breath, Morty gave him one of her treasured candy bars. As they munched away in silence, she asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be working-

“On the Zorins?” He opened the wrapper and bit down. After swallowing, he continued. “Yeah, they’re still being tortured by that lunatic the Rambling Killer. Does that guy ever stop talking…?”

“I had to reap his last victims, and I can tell you he doesn’t.” Morty leaned back on the bench, adding, “Not even in his sleep…”

They both ate in silence after that. Once they finished, Sven stood up and was about to leave Morty the fuck alone when… “Oh, by the way, my Father-In-Law wants you to make sure you take care of Old Lady Crowley. And he doesn’t care how many candy bars she hurls at your face, because no one likes a fat reaper.”

“His words, not yours?”

“His words, not mine.” Sven shivered. “It’s getting colder now. I’d better check up on the Zorins now. In case the Killer stopped talking long enough to, you know…” He drew his finger across his neck, making a slicing noise. “Later, Mort.”

“Yeah, later Sven.” She added, “Fucking Sven,” Once he was far enough out of earshot. Then with a sigh, she stood up and said, “Guess I gotta do work tonight…” And set off once again for Old Crowley’s place.

The walk to the Crowley place felt a lot longer than it should have. Mostly because Morty didn’t really want to take Old Lady Crowley. Normally, she wouldn’t care this much about someone who was supposed to die. It was usually a case of “wham, bam, this way ma’am” but she kept thinking to herself, “Full size fucking candy bars… no one else in this shithole goes that kind of distance…”

Walking up the steps to Crowley’s place, she solemnly thought, “Well, this is it…”

And then she heard Old Lady Crowley yelling at someone.

“You little bastard!!” The Old Lady scolded. “I told you once, I tell you again! You collect the money, THEN kill them!! I don’t care about speeches!!”

Intrigued, Morty peered inside the door. To her surprise, Old Lady Crowley was shouting at who looked to be a carbon copy of the supposed Rambling Killer. And not only was he not killing her, but he also looked afraid of her. “I’m s-sorry, Gramma,” The Rambling Killer stammered. “I was d-doing as you said, and-

Crowley slapped the Killer across the face. “I SAID TO COLLECT WHAT THE ZORINS’ OWE ME THEN KILL THEM! THEN KILL THEM!!” She walked to her chair and picked up her cane. “Now I must teach you another lesson, you stupid bastard!”

The Rambling Killer curled up, his hands covering his face. “Gramma, no! NO!!!”

Old Lady Crowley raised her cane, and…

“OLD LADY CROWLEY!!!” Morty appeared in a burst of fire and smoke. “YOUR DIRTY CUNT WAYS ARE OVER!”

“Wow,” The Killer remarked dumbfounded. “Language ma’am…”

“Shut up!” Morty shouted at him. “You want me to take you too?”

The Killer cocked his head. “I’m confused. Gramma, do we know this lady…?”

“Please,” Crowley seethed. “You think I am friends with this whore? Take care of her, you good for nothing…”

“You gonna take her shit?” Morty interrupted the Old Lady. “I thought serial killers were more butch than you.”

“What?” The Killer asked, his eyes narrowing.

“What…?” Crowley asked, her eyes widening.

“I mean, yeah she’s family and all, but you-! You are the RAMBLING KILLER! Your diatribes strike fear into people’s hearts! You are a man who is feared!” She added with a wink, “And fear can be sexy, by the way…”

“But to find out you’re just some old loan shark’s enforcer,” Morty shrugged in dismissal. “Maybe we should be more afraid of your Gramma.”

“Hey now,” The Killer responded. “I don’t take kindly to those words!”

“Why, because you resemble them?” Crowley chided. “I don’t know who you think you are, lady…”

“I am literally your death.” Morty said with an icy glare.

Crowley paused, then continued. “Okay, whatever. But I am the matriarch of my Family, and my stupid, dumb shit Grandson is nothing without me! NOTHING!!” She began to kick the Rambling Killer. “None of you are anything without me! You dumb shits couldn’t terrorize a retarded puppy without my-

Old Lady Crowley was cut short when Morty’s sword came unsheathed and cut her down to size diagonally. As her now lifeless body slid to the ground, revealing spurts of blood and gore, Morty looked down at the Killer and asked, “Were you as tired of her as I was?”

The Killer nodded. “Yea Ma’am. But she was the head of our Family…! What’s gonna happen to us??”

Morty looked up in thought, then answered, “Y’know, all I really did was make a job opening…” She leaned in and added, “Tell me where this cunt keeps the full-size candy bars, and I can illuminate the possibilities…”

Five boxes of assorted candy bars later, Morty had hit her quota, the Rambling Killer was the head of the Romaggio Crime Family, and as Halloween drew to a close, Morty decided to check up on her favorite person in the whole Show. She had felt fulfilled in her duties and her cheat day fell on Halloween, so she didn’t feel guilty about the candy. All she needed now was to visit her boyfriend Derek for a good, hard fuck. As she strolled merrily up the stairs to his apartment, she began to hear three voices. Two of them sounded terribly, horrifyingly familiar…

Throwing open the doors, Morty demanded of the two voices, “HOW DO YOU JACKASSES KNOW MY BOYFRIEND, TOM AND VINCE?!?”

To Be Continued…