You drive up to Murphy Manse thinking it lives up to all the rumors.  Immense.  Sprawling.  Purple.  And, yes, you have won the bet with the guys at the coffee shop.  There is an actual waterslide marking the middle of the circular drive.  Maybe your former boss, Heckles, really had used it to stay cool during the hottest days of summer.  But now it stands empty, useless, and pathetic looking, icicles growing off its underside as if to mock it for having no winter use.  You think that Heckles should’ve died sliding down that slick surface, playing to the last, instead of the way he really bought it.  Sitting on the toilet while reading the latest issue of Playboy. 

Heckles’ Ex.Ass., Lavinia Schwartz, meets you at the door.  She’s wearing her usual uniform: shirtdress in one of a rainbow of colors (black to suit the present occasion) and ridiculously high heels.   

“Come in, come in,” Lavinia says.  “Oh dear, I can see you’re tearing up already.  Have a tissue.  I got the ones with lotion.  Give it a honk there.  Feel how soft?  We have to be extra careful how we treat our skin you know.  In fact, we probably shouldn’t cry at all tonight.  Heckles wanted this to be a happy occasion.  And you know how frowny faces make for facial lines!”

You roll your eyes as Lavinia turns to lead you inside.  Get real, Lavinia.  You can call those crow’s feet facial lines all day, but that’s not going to change the fact that they’re wrinkles.  You follow the Ex.Ass. into a palatial room full of Heckles’ most delightful creations.  A stuffed gorilla, life size.  A Wacky Wizards pinball machine with ports for confetti showers when the player scores a free game.  A track around the edge of the room big enough to hold ten of his patented, voice-controlled slot cars.  Oversized cushy building blocks piled in the shape of a castle. 

You’d love to stop and play, but Lavinia is hustling you into the library, where Heckles has been put on display like a roast pig, his Einsteinian hair springing off the silk pillow of the shiny red casket in which he lies.  His closest friends and relatives have gathered in the cheerful room, whose bright yellow shelves are packed with books that sing, squeak, pop-up and, on one rare occasion, eat fake oatmeal and make doo-doo on the unsuspecting reader’s lap. 

“That’s Heckles’ whoopsie son, Dirk Devon,” Lavinia says softly as you pass a jet-haired hunk huddled in the corner, his cell pressed to one ear while his finger stops the other.

“I don’t give a damn how hot he is, Dennis!” Dirk hisses into the  phone.  “We had a deal!”  When he notices you listening he turns his face to the wall and lowers his voice. 

Lavinia raises her eyebrows at you and ushers you farther into the room.  You recognize Matchbox and Babydoll Murphy sitting on either side of their dead dad’s lawyer, Leonard McNamara.  Matchbox is tugging on Leonard’s coat sleeve, talking fast and low while Babydoll chews on a hunk of her own hair and bobs her crossed leg just hard enough to bang the toe of her patent leather shoe into the chair in front of her.  You’re pretty sure the incessant banging will eventually make you want to throw her out a window.   

You’re distracted by the Cruella DeVille beauty standing by the casket.  “Hey, that’s Heckle’s ex-wife, isn’t it?” you ask.  “Is she still married to that diamond guy?  What’s his name?  Lipschitz?”

“How else do you think Adelle got the money for her last facelift?” Lavinia asks, her eyes narrowing jealously.  “He adores her.  But she . . .” Lavinia’s voice drops, like she’s talking to herself, “I’ll bet she’d pay a lot to make sure he didn’t find out—”  She stops.  Bites her lip.  Starts babbling, “Poor Bear Trawls, just look at him up there.  He’s barely left Heckles’ side since he got back from that business trip.  So sad it makes you want to bawl.  He seems even more devastated than a real brother would be.”

You’re not so sure.  Bear’s round, pink cheeks seem extra cheery.  And could he possibly be flirting with your only surviving boss, Eugenia Smooch?  You make the rounds, offering your condolences and saying hello to your fellow Play Heckles employees.  Skipping the refreshment table, because you can’t quite stomach finger sandwiches in the shape of SuperSam Action Heroes, you find a seat and settle in for the parade of memories.  The final hurrah is a Power Point reflecting Heckles’ long and fascinating life.  Whoever put it together has a real sense of style, and you’re glad the room is so dark so nobody can see your tears.  But then the montage at the end sends the whole room into gales of laughter.  

 Which is when Heckles sits straight up in his casket, wags his wild hair at the group as he grins and says, “Hasn’t tonight been a fruitbowl of fun?  Thanks for coming everyone!”  Screams.  Gasps.  A couple of thuds, signaling your fellow employees fainting to the floor as your boss continues, “I do apologize for the shock factor.  But I had to satisfy my curiosity.  Now I can die in peace—in twenty or thirty years—knowing that I’ll be surrounded by family and friends afterwards!  Lavinia!  Hit the lights!”   

The Power Point blinks off.  For several seconds the room feels like a cavern it’s so dark.  You listen to the sobs, whispers, rustling of bodies, scraping of chairs.  And another sound.  Like the snap of breaking branches.  The lights blink on.  Lavinia is the first to scream.           

“Oh my God!  Somebody’s killed Heckles!”

Full on, belt-it-like-you-mean-it screams and the rush of stampeding feet as people get their first lights-on view of Heckles Murphy.  The joke, it seems, is on him after all.  Because while the lights were out, someone grabbed him before he could climb out of his casket and broke his neck.  How do you know for sure?  Well hey, there can hardly be any doubt when his body is lying face-up, but his nose is buried in the pillow.    So why aren’t you running for the door?  Because you loved that man like a father.  And you’re determined to figure out who in this room had the strength to twist a man’s head one hundred and eighty degrees.

 The first round of questions & answers begins now and ends Wednesday night.  Chime in whenever you’d like.  If you’re just tuning in, game rules and character descriptions are listed in the two previous threads.  Have fun!