Edgar Stokes's Questionnaire

These days we hang the hooves in Philly - Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, of course, yinz all know that already (meep).

Well, less "in" than "under" if ya want the real scoop.

Y'see, Philly has somethin' rare in the world: a old, old, boneyard that no one up & owns. Big too! Acres of overgrown stones, & all the finest folks of Turn of the Century upper crust Philadelphia sleeping away the ages. Not like to pass that up, yeah? Enough bones for a family o' Ghouls to last years!

Yeah, Midian is great - "Like Shangri-La on dope!" We love it here.

Well...other than it ain't no Pittsburgh.

Y'see - I am born & raised Pennsylvania, better believe it. But Philly & the 'burgh may as well be a world apart, what with the mountains in the way. Really should be "East & West Pennsylvania", y' get me? It's a helluva long ride for cities in the same State. You West Coast poofs might laugh at that, but most of the East is cozy...snuggled up close.

Philly has history, used to be the heart of the Union, colleges, arts, Liberty Bell...blah, blah, blah. Despite my tendency to dig holes, I ain't Nik Cage in "National Treasure" right? Philly will never quite feel like home the way Pittsburgh does. Get all us Yinzers together for a Steelers game & see why. The 'burgh is a working class town, tough blue-collar types who don't go crying to their lawyer if they get a punch in the mouth if they talk shit in a bar.

So yeah. Philly is great, Midian is better, but my little black heart beats for the 'burgh.

Full of questions, ain't ya? Most in your place are all blubbering "please, please" or askin' where the Pearly Gates are. 

The ghoul sets a skull on a pile of Popular Mechanics magazines & continues to gnaw on the skeleton left behind.

Well, grave robbing, obviously. I used to be a Garbage Man but good luck holding a job in this economy, heh. Or with these good looks. Dead don't need what they got, be it a wedding ring, a gold tooth, or what have you. So we keep those bits, sell it at the local pawn shops.

You know what a pawn shop is? Yeah. The old tradin' post.

Other than that, I gotta few irons in the fire. Work as a Contractor long enough, you get wise to pulling the odd heist or hustle. 

Spend it on tequila, beer, shines for the fam. Keeps the truck running, gas in the tank. I even got a shell company: Steelhead Enterprises - no, not like the fish! On account of my bein' a Steelers fan & being thick headed, c'mon. Looking to run a local sanitation route if I can manage it, does some janitorial work otherwise. We was about to be "Cleaners" for the Mob but whoever framed Jules mucked that all up. If I get my Jaggers on Texas, he'll be a long time dyin' & that's just for starters. 

Other than that, we don't spend much, live as Ghouls always have. Fringe of society, not much call for cash. 

Ambition? What, other than to look this good?

I hear that a lot from the other rubes in this work, "I was Gifted these by the Harbinger" - "My wish was granted because I won!"

What a bunch of horse shit.

See, yours truly has been around the block enough to know that a lot of these things they hand out to people are a hustle. Never kid a kidder. Often as not, the root was there in 'em to begin with, or the thingmajigger they hand out is repackaged from some other asshole who died on the way up. Recycled.

In my case, I never had no Ambition. After I "did the deed" (meep), there was no going back. Fingers started to split like rotten fruit, letting the claws come in. You ever had a root canal? A root canal; you know, they drill into your tooth, BzzZzzZzzZzz...never mind, it was before your time. Well, let's just say having a muzzle full of new teeth grow in is not something you call the Tooth Fairy about. Shit hurts, & does a job on your head, looking in the mirror every morning & watching your what's left of your face get bent out of shape.

If I was the sort, Id've cleaned my clock right then. Doctors had nothin' beyond "maybe it's some form of Arthritis" if yinz can believe that shit.

So when the Foreman showed up on my stoop & promised answers if I could do 12 of these crazy Jobs, I was all about it, better believe it. Not what I'd call an Ambition though, at least: not then.

Later, when i found out I was turning into (or always was?) a Ghoul, I had my answer but I didn't know the Question: Why me? Why now? S'pose I still don't know that one, but I did learn enough of one for now when I found the Fam - the other Ghouls that were slaves. Found my calling right then I guess, become Moses of the Underworld.

You smiling at that? I would be too if I was a skull.

The Jobs are a road to gain the strength I need to find & keep mine & those like mine safe. That's all I need to keep on at it. How far would I go? Look up "Ghoul Fever" for that one, chump. Would I die? I actually have it on good authority that I can't even be killed, so I'll let you know when it comes up.

Closest to? I mean, I can show you the closest, but "people" ain't the word your lookin' for:

The ghoul drops the rib it was chewing on & allows his jaws to gape wide - from within the darkness of his gullet, two fleshy tendrils emerge, each topped with a luminescent green orb, not unlike the eye stalks of a slug - after allowing them to look around a moment, the Ghoul sucks them back down as one would a noodle.

Doesn't get a lot closer than that (meep). She calls herself the Provider when she's in a talking mood. Some kinda moldy God that I ate up during a Job, must'a got a piece stuck in the teeth or something. Not the worst room mate I've ever had, & boy howdy can she hold her own in a drinking game!

Yeah, yeah, I know. "Fleshy Abomination" wasn't what ya had in that empty skull of yours when ya asked.

So the Old Man was outta the picture early on in a trucking accident. Ma had to move in with Gran & Gramps with lil' ol me & they saw I was raised a (bones crack under iron jaws) proper upstanding Catholic lad. Ma worked a few jobs & was strung out most of the time, but the grandparents we're tough lemme tell ya - striped this hide more than a few times. I would say we we're "close" in much the same way you are "close" to the Warden in the slammer. I was a rough & tumble kid, & I think they all breathed easy when I moved out.

Co-Workers? Spookums & I go way back. Inkz isn't bad. I got "close" to Jules in a way most never could or would. I don't associate with them guys though. All business.

Has to be the Fam then. My pack of brain damaged Ghouls. "The life you save is the life you own" they say, & I'll be a monkey's uncle if'n I didn't sweep in & save the lot of 'em. Seven followed on with me through Hell & high water - Minny. Mickey, Iggy, Ziggy, Lassy, Benjy, & Daryll.

What can i say about them? They're Ghouls. Feral ones at that, though a few can gibber half way decent. Iggy & Ziggy are always paired at the hip, benjy is always meepin' & moanin' in the lower caves, Mickey likes to creep about topside more than his healthy, Lassy is a beast who needs watchin' all the time, ol' Minny is blind as a bat & talk to the skulls, & Daryll is getting fat & still is complaining about going hungry!

There you go - more than what you asked for. You're welcome (meep).

The Old Days, is it?

The Ghoul grunts, & pops a femur off the skeleton, cracking it between his teeth like a matchstick

Well, like I said: the Old Man was a long haul trucker, Joe Wujick - was never around much when he was alive, even less after he wrecked the truck. If this was the right time I'd go dig up the bastard, see if my good looks ran in the family or not. But it isn't. so I don't (meep).

Ma was Margaret Wujick, though she went back to being a Stokes after the Old Man kicked the bucket. Ma was always a bit high strung...probably still is. Was happy to be a housewife to a man that was never around & a kid that was always out causin' trouble. Long as she could catch her shows & wash down some some pills with Vodka she didn't add a lot to the picture. Old Man's death was hard on her, what havin' to get a job & all - turned out I was a better match for my grandparents, so that's where I ultimately got sent.

Grandpa & Grandma Stokes were great - I know, I just said they were tough, but hey: I like me some tough love, yeah? Had the stories about WWII that every kid likes, think they were happy to just have somethin' to do in their old age. I stayed with them till i got out on my own. Grandpa Stokes could play guitar, was in the US Marines that stormed Iwo Jima - Grandma Stokes was always on me about grades & being a good-ish kid. Like to think I learned self-respect from them old fogies more than anything. 

I hadn't talked with Mom for 20 years but called the Grandparents on the regular till things went south. Nah, probably dead by now but I ain't gonna dig 'em up. I'd like the rest to know their stories, keep them down the ages, but they wouldn't understand.

Besides, one thing eating the dead tells you: most folks are full of shit. I'd hate to find out they'd gone & lied to me as a kid about things. Leaving them where they are.

As for school, yeah, I did my time in kid prison. Being three apples high is never an easy life for a young man. I was picked on, sure. Short kid & the fat kid are always gonna get roasted. Picked on, but the first few who thought they could push around the short kid found out that this short kid don't fuck around: I was a fighter then, am a fighter still. Growing up taught me that you laugh at the assholes who think they're smarter than you & grievously fuck up those who think they're better than you - beyond that, i read a lot of comic books, watched Star Wars. What? I told you I had bad luck with girls: what was I supposed to do?

The ghoul clops back into his lair, a band of iron graced with a dark stone in hand, & proceeds to gnaw on the diminishing remains of his "interrogator."

Where'd we leave off? Yinz wouldn't believe what I've been up to the last few days (meep!) - shit is crazy. What am I scared of??? Like, the things that go bump in the night or some bullshit? Last I checked,we are those things: still, that ain't an answer, & I ain't afraid of talking about what scares me, yeah?

So - the idea of being strapped to the dissection table gets my blood up. Hardly a surprise, I know. Y'see, when I was still a humble Garbage Man with an unsightly skin condition, the fear started to set - They are gonna come get me; now, I was never clear on who They might be, but not knowing was worse. Now, much later & with the days a scarf & some welding gloves could see me pass as normal long gone, I DO know - Gen-Wyld & those like them have reason & cause to set the knife to us.

You might be thinking, "Well, is that really a problem? Can't you just go out there & tear those assholes a new one?

You'd be right, of course. I can. Probably will at some point. Problem is, for each one of us, they got a Billion or so - odds aren't on our side. Which leads me to the next thing that keeps your ol' pal Stokes gibbering into the night: Escalation.

Sure, I can rip a man to bloody rags in less time than it takes to say it. Pound for Pound, most Ghouls can do the same in a straight fight. Thing is, that's not how fights go - they grow as people get involved. Spread like wildfire. In the end, I ain't fool as some thinkin' any amount of neat tricks I learned on the jobs is gonna balance that scale - at best, I could go to ground & the Fam would get the chopping block - I know I won't let that happen, but my reach only goes to the tip of these claws. Beyond that, it's out of my hands.

Finally, & this might seem odd to you on account of my bein' a skinwalker & all - I have the heeby jeebys about these fuckin' Pod People. I've seen them take over folks so well you just don't know any better. The idea of them rallying the folks above against us is not fun to think about (meep). Mainly because we ARE enemies, & I think they're organized. I've taken some pretty extreme steps to see I don't get taken (& also to keep my little gut buddy in line), but that just proves it scares me, right? If it didn't, i wouldn't worry it like I do.

This is really started sound like yinz is casing me for a heist or something - if'n you weren't dead & all I'd be gettin' worried.

Funny thing about things. Can't take them with you, they say. I managed to take some of my stuff with me into the grave, so maybe that ain't true. Alright, what do I like most in this shit pile.

Proceeds to rummage through piles of crap

Here we go! VHS Star wars, before Lucas screwed  'em up! I have an old tape player & everything - showed the Fam, but they didn't like the flashing lights, only got excited about the Ewoks -shrugs- What can you do?

I have a copy of Nightbreed #1 in the Library - that's my favorite funny book, also a great film. "The Tribes of the Moon" - heh, yeah, maybe some day (meep). Oh, & the good old "Cult of the Ghouls" - supposed to be some kind of magic book but reads like a Bodice Ripper written for Necrophiles...which is just fine to me.

Uh...dragon skull is pretty neat. I made a goblet out of one of it's claws & a skull. No it wasn't an "Enemy" - just a skull I had lying around. Reckon if I had that Monster hunting Angel down here I'd switch it out, probably stuff a pillow with the feathers while I'm at it, heh.

Oh! -He picks up a birdcage covered with a drape- This is Bitey McTickles! It's some kinda poop beetle from Egypt or some shit, has quite the bite on him, heh, that's how y'know he likes you -let's the beetle sink inch long mandibles into his finger- See? All kinds of friendly.

Anyone who fucks with my Bike is gonna die, of course. Indian Superchief that I modded for my reach & legs. It's a fine Bike, but I might want to switch up to some kind of custom chopper. Oh, also my old "Devil Dog MC" tags -he pulls out a pair of dog tags hanging around his neck- I do kinda miss those guys. Well, kinda...no not really, they were always makin' jokes on account of my being pint sized, bunch of dicks.

What else...I mean, I guess I'm a King or somethin' now (meep) -a talon caresses an iron band crowned with a black stone on his arm- & I'm a bit partial to all these moldy old Gods of Death I've picked up over the years. I got a vampire coffin, a zombie stew pot, a bat studded with werewolf teeth, sword of the Pict King...

Problem?

Well, Gen-Wyld probably. I haven't heard anymore about that stupid "Ghould Rush" they started, but I bet they ain't forgotten that a Ghoul is money in the bank. Also raised our profile more than I'd like (meep); had to go public in a big way - I watched the clip of me talkin' to them assholes with Inkz, & lemme tell ya:

I am way more handsome in person. The daylight does nothin' for my girlish (ghoulish?) complexion.

I might aim to settle that score, but I got time. Had to take some big risks to throw them off the scent, & that clip ain't going away anytime soon - so I need to get folks to move along, keep up with the Kardashians or the Krakens or whatever - Ghouls have been known to exist before. Give those mayflies enough time, & they'll forget about us again.

Until they do that's a high priority. Part of that is figuring out these new tunnels under the Boneyard - not sure if they go to the "Vales of Pnath" or to "Forgotten Realms" but a proverbial fire escape in the event the folks above come down on us is pretty welcome, IF that's what it is. If it ain't, then I'll need to sort out what's down there so we don't get pinned between Above & Below.

Heh, you ask the strangest shit, Bone Daddy.

Down here we don't have daytime & nighttime. Some Ghouls sleep a lot (like Daryll - don't get me going on Daryll), others like yours truly hardly sleep at all. With more hours in the day a lot of shit gets done, yeah? Still, I catch the drift: what do I do?

Well, as a former member of the proud brotherhood of Sanitation Engineers, waking up before the sun is just something you make a habit of. If I can get a pot of hot coffee (black as my soul, please) so much the better - now, caffeine doesn't really do it for me anymore, but I still like the taste - also, ever since a certain extra-spicy meal I like my coffee hot: the hotter the better. So the first thing I'll do is open my private stock for whomever is on the menu, gnaw on them for a while (kinda like I'm doing you right now), then wash it down with a pot of joe straight from the kettle - no running water down here, so it saves on washin' up the cups. Have to make sure it goes to the left stomach instead of the right one, or else my lil' gut buddy will get indigestion.

After that I'm out & about. Few stretches maybe, crack the neck & those old joints, but that's all, folks - nothing to see here.

Huh.

Hadn't thought about it.

Made it official that I gather up the Fam for special events at the dinner table - even got some plastic table covers that are easy to clean after. Probably something like that I'd bet, because nothing reminds me why I risk it all time & time again than cleaning up after dinner with a mob of feral ghouls.

If I really had my way, & rumors are to be believed - I would have a special dinner guest over. Good ol' Governor Slick his own self.

That would be something to see. If Wesley is over there with you, skull - tell his dead ass to drop me a line. That'd be a birthday for the record books, tell you what (meep).

Otherwise, not a whole lot. Again, we don't really follow the calendars, other Ghouls think I'm weird for doing it. I bet in 50 to 100 years I'll have forgotten when my birthday was, & there won't be anyone left to remind me. Kinda sad, really, but it is what it is.

Wishes (meep?)???

Do I LOOK like someone has granted me any fuckin' wishes???

Said before: I'm a Ghoul! Too Ghoul for School, even. Granted, the Jobs have opened up options most Ghouls don't have, but the first 12 they didn't give me shit beyond a promise for answers!

I've met some dorks that apparently do get granted wishes by their fairy godmothers or pimps or whatever, & I ain't so lucky as they are (if they really are: everything has a cost, after all). When i finish a Job these days the Foremen usually send me something as payment - I've never had them ask me what I wanted, & that seems silly as fuck anyway because while the payment is often worth the time can you imagine if they just asked what people wanted?

"I want a castle in the sky & a 6ft dong."

Would you want to go on Jobs with that guy?

I didn't think so.

Far as I can tell, I am an (or was) an ordinary Ghoul that went through some growing pains, mutated a bit after eating some weird shit on the Jobs, & is now collecting the tools I need to keep my people out from under the scalpel.

That's it. No Cinderella here, pal.

Oh, I love me that old time religion, sure.

By "old" I mean OLD though - like, really old. Not this New Age crap (meep). Also, while I did go to a Catholic boarding school as a kid, not a whole lot rubbed off other than impure thoughts about Nuns.

Most of my life before I was more of a...Agnostic? Not quite an Atheist: if there was a God, I never expected to meet him. Now-a-days, I've met a couple of "Gods" & put a few of them down for the count. Some others, I'm pretty alright with, like so:

Jesus: Like I said, I only got a load of this guy in Catholic School. To say he's "not my type" is coming up a bit short, but I could almost certainly have my mind changed if those wafers actually turned into Jesus bits - the moment they do I'll need to call up my own personal Guardian Angel (Cham-I-Am) for a confession! Hope he's got some time, it'll be a doozy.

Mictlantecuhlti: His people tried to put me in the ground twice, but I like to think we're on better terms now, especially after I learned Nahuatl from eating one of his kids or whatever they were. Pretty sure bygones are bygones, & I do occasionally leave treats to his statue in the big den as well as chase the other Ghouls around blowing the Death Whistle I looted: hah, they hate that...

Osiris: The Big Man down under - never really had much to do with him but hey, I have a jar with his mug on it & that's pretty ok - if he needs someone to fight a dragon I've been there & done that, so just sign me up.

Anubis: A lot of witchy folk think Anubis was actually a Ghoul on account of the Jackal head & all. That might be the case, but if so he was a stingy one because his whole bag was keeping the dead safe, which probably includes not letting Ghouls eat them. I don't really know, but I hope to eat some mummies that might have a better idea some day. Until then, i have a little gold statue of him i looted & I think it's great.

Akna: Some Eskimo fertility Goddess who is also a giant mutant monster who might also be Shub-Hootenanny or something. Also likes being called "The Provider" & is apparently responsible for mutating my ass off these days. Thing does give me the creeps sometimes, but I've taken some steps if she gets out of line (meep).

That;s the ones I'd say I have some business with. I'm sure I'll run across more as we go.

Cue the Twilight Zone music.

I've done jumped so many "Outer Limits" & bullshit that I may as well just up & slap a red shirt on my happy ass & tattoo "Beam Me Up, Scotty!" to my forehead.

There was a time when saner-yet-still-corpse-eating me would'a had a problem with that. Less sane but twice as handsome me now says: I don't wanna think about it & shoots a jug of tequila (meep).

Far as I can tell, where I am now is not where I am from at the moment. There was never no Mama Stokes who met Papa Stokes & came up with yours truly here. Or in the last place I was in. Or the one before that. That could change at any time.

What's weird is: it's more than just popping off into the flip side, down the rabbit hole, red pill bullshit - it happens all the time. World is hopping around like a Mexican jumping bean, & unless you've been on these crazy Jobs, most people just don't see it.

That part really does a number on you: hard to plan where to go or what to do when all the rules change over night, right? Well, that's what we have - the good side is: if you batten down the hatches hard enough, it seems your immediate area stays pretty much the same. also means there might be a way off this shit-show that leads me & mine to a safer place - I keep my eye out, but who knows?

"Other worlds than these," is what Mr. King said - yeah, no shit, Sherlock. We try to keep our heads down & not think about it much. Let the Wizards & Ghost Girls figure that shit out.

Hah, this is my favorite part (meep!)

Grace "Spookums" Cyanide: So, long time listeners know that Spookums & I go waaaay back to day one. I never believed in Ghosts (still don't - if just to make her mad), but along came this 9 year old Excorcist reject, Ghosts hanging out like a normal kid has a cowlick or acne. If you were like me & thought: "This girl isn't long for the world," well then...you'd be wrong. Spookums is probably the most solid Contractor I've worked with - cool under fire, knows shit that nobody should know, & in general is a solid part of the crew when they're onboard. I've got nothin' bad to say about this kid & would go out of my way to eat them if they died.

Old Man Jules: The old Geezer is dead now, got snatched by the Pod People I guess. I WARNED him about that, but no one listens to crazy old Edgar, no sir - now he's dead, was buried, promptly got his ass dug back up & eaten by us on the table with a cognac. Never did figure out what he was all about, why he was doing these Jobs. He always paid well though, so I got nothing against him & will most likely fuck up the Pod people on his behalf - this drinks for you, Old Timer: Rest in Pieces.

Jeremy "Slick" Wesley: Another one of the old crew who apparently has gone MIA recently. Reckon he probably got sent out as a one man show like I did & it didn't go well for the bastard. That should really surprise nobody since Ol' Slick hadn't dirtied a manicured nail in ages - got soft, I'd say, always sending people to do his dirty work. That is, if he is dead - speaking of him going soft, I will do quite a bit for the chance to sink these not-so pearly whites into his butter-soft butt. I won't count on it until then. I could probably throw him quite a ways, so the usual "wouldn't trust him" line don't pan out (meep): I never met a man more afraid of the truth than this guy - I'll believe he's dead when I eat him.

Perfect room is a coffin - just big enough for two & buried 6ft deep. Claustrophobic to some, but I like the, ah - intimacy, you could say.

Wood coffin is easy to break into from below, but the wood absorbs some of the fluids & the flavor so it's not great unless it's been well sealed. Metal coffin is a pain to get into without exhuming it first, but when you do: oh baby, when you do everything is JUST right, lemme tell ya (meep)!

Now, no room is perfect without the right company, yeah? Obviously, we want an all-oragnic meal on the slab, no embalming if possible as it can upset the tummy (personally, I can still gobble them down just fine, but it's an acquired taste). Then you have options on seasoning - a wooden box or hole in the ground will mean grave worms & other tidbits, a more fancy coffin will have the lining & fabric all soaked & saturated - you don't really want to eat that bit, but it can be wound up & used for candle wicks for fine dining later.

All in all, your coffin of choice should be intimate, secure against interruption, & just about a month in the ground for best results.

You see, Mr Skull - most folks will say your pal Edgar Stokes is best at knocking heads together & coming back to crack jokes about it.

That is 100% slander (other than the cracking jokes part) - what I'm really best at is getting into places people don't want me to be. Sure, I'm fine in a scuffle, & yeah, I've learned all the tricks about what to watch for on the job - but you want to see me at my best, you need to see me when I'm behind Enemy Lines: that's where the ol' Stokes charm really does it's work - gathering info, taking folks out, gettin' the lay of the land, all that kinda thing.

Anyone can rough up a bunch of mooks, or otherwise fuck up those that need it: Takes panache to go in alone & get the job done right. Panache is something I've got in spades though, you better believe it (meep).

Limits? As in, "This is where I draw the Line?" Yeah, ok, let's talk about that.

I already said the idea of being put in a cage gets me all riled up. I ain't going under the scalpel so Fatty McGee can get cured of his Diabetes. Or put in a zoo, or whatever any of them who has ideas gets up to - not a chance, & those that try it will end up on the Menu.

I used to get all wound up if I was gonna to die, or thought maybe I was gonna die. That's because life was crazy then, & here I was: just your friendly neighborhood garbage man. These days, after living in a grave for some years & reliving yinz last moments pretty much every day, I'd say death don't scare me as much as it just gets me riled up - if I have a close call, it just makes me angry - angry enough to forget what I'm there to do, which is not great. Like most Ghouls though - actually dying isn't really that big of a deal - with any luck, the others'd eat me & "life" would go on.

Last bit is like that too - someone puts the hurt on me long enough, it makes me kinda crazy. Far as I can tell I can't actually be killed in the normal sense, but enough pain & that fucking terrible itch I get when the Provider starts stitching me back together will see me lose my shit sometimes. Not good for the work, because when your uncle Stokes loses his shit, he loses it HARD.

Not sure what any of that says about me - panic attacks I guess? Short Temper? I'm not like to bring any on myself, but it could happen, often does as part of the Job - I try not to lose my shit because I'm a Contractor - professionalism & all that.

OOC Break

Steppenwolf - Born to be Wild

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rMbATaj7Il8

This is the intro for a hero's journey in a way: It reflects who Edgar was before the Contract: A short, scrappy Garbage Man who was also a Biker, Pool Shark, & general Rabblerouser. It also hints at the nature of his Gifts: as a nascent Ghoul he was literally "Born to be Wild"

George Thorogood & the Destroyers - I Drink Alone

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lpzqQst-Sg8

The other facet of to Stokes is the loneliness. His corrupt nature unnerved people throughout his life, leaving him isolated, an outsider with no understanding why that was the case - rather than be crippled by it, this sharpened his edge into a merciless wit - Stokes drinks alone, & to Hell with the world!

Rob Zombie - Living Dead Girl

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BvsMPOfblfg

"What are you thinking about?" Yeah...this was the tipping point - Edgar Stokes, fueled by frustration, loneliness, & perhaps more indulged in a touch of Necrophilia, & in so doing doomed his mortal existence forevermore.

AC/DC - Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jsjdjWGDvFk

The Contract - if he can survive win 12 of these crazy jobs, the Foreman will explain what is happening to him - Notable that from Edgar's perspective he never received "Gifts" during this time - his hideous mutations were progressing either way: this informed some of his bitter anger & jealousy on the job.

The Spook - Of Gods and Monsters

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RSM3VQNFbEU

After his 12th win, Edgar not only was told of his nature as a Ghoul, but rescued a small group of them from slavery - this would give him the sense of belonging & purpose he'd always lacked: with a people to call his own, Edgar Stokes would go on to the Contracts with new, terrible zeal - he would set his people free & become a force to be reckoned with.

KMFDM - Hyena

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=73PY7g7BbGw

After this revelation, the newly inspired Ghoul would grow in confidence, building a home for his newfound people & defending them against all threats - never more realized when he took aim at the whole world during the so-called "Ghould Rush." Edgar's morbid sense of humor would also crystallize, with him laughing in the face of impossible odds.

Rob Zombie - Superbeast

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uHBtpqbOKXk

Culminating his career with a solo victory, Veteran Edgar is driven to not just protect the Ghouls, but also any similar creatures that would be crushed by a fearful world. The so-called "King of the Ghouls" is almost a force of nature when his mind is set, one that anyone would be unwise to underestimate.

That is a good question. Gold star for you.

I'd say when I first got in this work I just wanted to know what the Hell was happening to me: why my pearly whites were falling out & gettin' replaced by this alligator grin.

Later, when I had that answer I hit my Spider Man stage:

"With great power come great responsibility."

Y'see, the Ghouls I have were all slaves for a long time - underfed, more than a few marbles loose. Happens. It's a big change from Homo Sap to Homo Ghul - skull changes, might mash in the brain a bit in some. Not a doctor, but I'm guessing not all of us come through with our proverbial ducks in a row (meep). That being the case, it was up to me & my ducks to look out for the little bastards.

To do that, I need tools - tools only the Jobs can get.

Retirement? Yeah, maybe. I can't watch after my own if I'm dead, so the Arms Race will stop when I feel good about it. Might'a stopped already if the "Ghould Rush" hadn't kicked off.

Midian - I don't let on where it is, what it is, or what's down there. Not to Spookums, sure as hell not to Slick - none but us Ghouls know, & that's the way we like it (meep).

I've done quite a bit to keep my little slice of Shangri-La under the radar, & I reckon I'll do quite a bit more before I'm done. I'd say nearly half of every day is spent on that goal, sometimes more - expanding tunnels, adding to the Crows, keeping the Fam in line, adding bits & bobs to keep it together; Midian is a full time job - kind of a nuthouse where I'm the Warden.

I used to hide what I was, but the Ghould Rush ruined that pretty well - at least they don't have my name - but you can see my smilin' mug on the videos taken when I let Inkz bring me in. Fortunately this "Foot Cream Furrie" seems to get more hits from the scrubs online - reckon I would also if I had a big ol' rack to show off.

Heh.

"The Garbage Man"

Don't laugh! Alright, you can laugh a bit, heh (meep).

Seriously though, that's what moniker I would pick - I could pick "The Ghoul" or "The King Under the Mountain" or "The Bone Picker" but all those is real pretentious. I'd be the Garbage Man - even the Trash Man. Because, despite it all, that's still a good part of who i am & if I made it that far I'd want to come full circle, y'know?

As for Jobs, I'd imagine I'd specialize in Jobs where we cleaned up other people bullshit mostly (meep). You know, some Mad Scientists/Cultists/Rich Folks cut loose something terrible. Or even clean up after runs that other Foremen let run wild. My Contractors would be hard, that's for sure. "The Cleaners." I'd even make them special badges to wear, send a Christmas bonus in a stocking with their names stitched on, with lotsa weird shit inside.

I'd be a great Foreman. We'd work hard, play hard. They'd love it, them that lived anyway.

The Cops?

I mean, mainly we avoid them by only eatin' dead people & staying in a whole in the ground.

On the Job, I usually skinwalk a bit, that does the trick. Mostly. Sometimes yinz have'ta take some measures, bust cameras, cover tracks. I carry a bag of ball bearings I can ping better than most slingshots between the thumb & index talon - that does for a lot of security cams. Ain't subtle but it works.

So far though, crawlin' into skins is the Ace in the Hole - I can't do quite as much when I'm all packed in like that, & it makes you crazy sometimes, but it works pretty good. That & gobbling up people who might've seen things they should'ta seen - adds confusion when you can get in as someone else, delete some pics, spread some chaos.

In a pinch I've got Ghoul Fever & my little maggot buddies to convince people they want none of this also.

So far I've tangled with the Cops, the Feds, & more & got out clean each time. I'm sure my number will come up someday, but today ain't that day.

Well - gruesome usually refers to yours truly in most cases, but sure - let's say I was part of the ol' Clown Car.

Not calling the cops myself, course - I mean, what am I gonna say?

"Pardon me Officer, but that guy in the suit is the real monster!"

Doubt that'll fly. I'd say it would depend a lot on the circumstances - what they did, but even more: who it was.

Spookums does some Exorcist shit, gets in trouble - alright, I'm gonna help them clear that shit up. Maybe even Slick (but he'd have to clear that favor he's been holding first).

If it was someone I didn't know, or didn't like? Cham-I-Am goes holy wrath in downtown Philly?

Good luck with that bud. If he lost sight of the ball I might even go so far to finger him for an even bigger smoke screen so I can get the thing done (meep). The Clowns get what they bring on themselves the moment they put on the clown nose. I'm not gonna call the cops over a few buckets of blood, but you better believe you just got a sign saying "EXPENDABLE" hung around your neck if you blow my cover.

Huh.

Well, that's not a good memory.

Only really happened one time, slavery of faeries or some shit, keep them enslaved.

Walkin' around it was pretty clear that I had a lot more in common with the tinkerbells than the rich fucks on the boat.

Still, I went along until a better man than me talked me out of it. Just bailed on the whole thing, no idea what happened next.

That was younger me, still didn't know the ropes. Current me would have staged a jailbreak & to Hell with the Foreman who set that shit up...but younger me was still not sure what he was, where he stood, & didn't have family.

So yeah: I don't take the job unless I mean to gut it from within, come what may.

I'm not gonna enslave, kill, or otherwise fuck up them I've more in common with than yinz.

Also not in for the "tests" these days. I've been poked & prodded plenty. You want Edgar Stokes, you had better bring a clean Contract = plenty of scrubs you can find for stupid shit, don't bring it to me-(eep).

That good-for-nothing Fox Faerie really ticked me off, boy howdy.

I was mad for weeks. Weeks!

I'd reach down his fuzzy little muzzle & pull his asshole out his mouth if we ever meet again (meep)!

What a chump - man I hate that guy.

Other than that...no, not really. The Talent guy was pretty slick when we first met - funny, I still got his card, heh.

Most Foremen don't come knockin' down here, they got other means & that's just as well - I'd not appreciate them darkenin' my door anyhow. Slick probably has tea & crumpets with them, plays golf & talks investment portfolios with the bastards...not me. Salt of the Earth, this guy - a Blue Collar Ghoul.

Us & the upper crust only mix when them above gets put in the ground. That seems to apply to most of the Foremen I've met, & I look forward to the day i can get to know one real well on the dining table.

Plans?

Yeah, I got plans...

Body Snatchers are everywhere, like cockroaches - I used to pull there nose a bit, hunt them down, but I got wind that Slick was playin' both sides against the middle. So I played dumb, quieted down, pretended like I believed him for a bit until he went & forgot about it - heh, all that big brain, but no attention span. Now that Slick is up & gone I mean to ratchet shit back up again (meep). They done got Jules, so can't trust no one, though nothing new there. I'll be rooting them out since they can't hide from us when they're dead - the more we eat, it's only a matter of time till we pick up the trail...then we're coming for there Pod People, once & for all.

Gen-Wyld cut up some Ghouls on the slab, so I mean to return the favor for all them eggheads & suits in due time. Again, just biding time - we got plenty of that to spare, so when the next bout of chaos peaks I'll slip in, become a janitor or some shit, start gathering up the trash...if I find they've been cutting up more of mine & those like mine there'll be Hell to pay. Eat my way up the food chain, gut them from the inside out.

Sons of Salem & other Holy Rollers & Monster Hunters all need to go - ol' Cham-I-Am tops the list - might just frame him like that other dumbass framed Old Jules. Speaking of co-workers, that asshole who messed up the old witch - he's one I'd like to show what real torture looks like. 100% piece of shit if I've ever met one, & lemme tell yinz True Believers: this Trash Man has met a lot of pieces of shit.

Other than that? Take them as they come. I ain't in the habit of lettin' those that cross me make it to become Nemesis's...Nemesese?

Whatever (meep).

Yeah, that would have got me going once.

I was pretty "look out for number one" & "survive at all costs" when I was startin' out.

These days I'm more like to make a dirty joke as my last words. What it was would depend on the set up: you have to pitch to the crowd, right?

As for last requests: yeah - I'd want to get eaten by the Ghouls.

That's what really changed from old Edgar & new Edgar - Old Edgar was worried about dying all the time, or getting caught, or half a dozen other things. New Edgar has seen the last moments of hundreds upon hundreds of people. Most of them are pretty awkward, but they all end the same: in the ground, then in the Ghouls.

That last part is important; see, just like me eating you now - you become part of us - who you were, what you did. Little flashes & highlights like your first kiss or busting that kneecap showing off. We don't remember it every day, but as far as the Book says all that stays with us, deep down, & folks who know how can even summon it up. Witches mostly, preferably fast & loose witches that ride more than broomsticks if yinz get me.

When a Ghoul eats another Ghoul, all that is passed down the line. So them we eat last long after all who might've known them are dead & gone themselves.

That's what I'd want - complete the circle, hopefully some of what i done would rub off on those that ate me, they become the next Warden in the nuthouse.

Check out the local menu, of course.

Dig up a local gives me some lay of the land, a guide in the back of my head, & even a face if'n I need one.

One good meal deserves another though - I eat my way through problems like these. Shufflin' through memories, voices, & skins till I find what I need.

Helps that I got a sharp nose, & have got a pretty good feel for these Jobs over time, but really that's about all - your Uncle Edgar likes to travel light & make it up as he goes - I'll leave Slick or somebody to ask the usual questions & all that prep bullshit.

What I bring to the team is pretty unique to me, so that's what I go with - when I've got a fresh skin I can get in just about anywhere, & I am an ACE hustler when the it's called for - could bullshit my way into Congress (meep).

Hell, maybe I will.

Guns?

Only "guns" I need are these babies (meep).

I ain't no shooter. Like I said, I travel light. Mostly load up on a "doggie bag" of meals from the ol' boneyard - other than that I'm happy to take a plane, ride my bike, or even pack myself in a crate for "special delivery" if'n I have to.

Just me, my old Duffel I've had since Day 1, & what I can pack in my little gut buddy.

Yeah, the Gut Buddy. Not sure how she does it, but she can hold quite a bit without expanding my waistline. About as much as a 55 gallon drum, so spacious. Most contraband I need gets swallowed to be coughed up later, Circus Geek style.

Still, no one hires your Uncle Stokes for the gear he brings - they want the Monster his own self. They get it too (meep).

Other than that, it's just wearing the right suit.

Well shit.

I know some got means & ways in those cases - twinkerbell along with glitter flying out of their ass.

That is not how your Uncle Edgar does though, no sir.

Reckon I'd have to hijack another ride. I can hotwire a car, drive most things as the situation calls for. I don't tend to carry the big bills on the job since unlike some: that cash is non-renewable for us Ghouls. 

I've stolen bikes & cars before. Never flown a plain, but I'd give her a shot if I had to. I'm decent with tools of course also, so if it was just a flat tire or some shit I'm not gonna call a tow truck or miss a job to save my manicured nails from some dirty work, of course.

Not like some people.

I'd do my best - I ain't above callin' in a favor if I had to, but I'd rather not (meep). If trains, planes, & automobiles were a no-go...try & get myself express delivered in a box?

That's probably be it.

"Seems" mundane, is it?

I see where yinz is going here.

Do I come out loud & proud or do I go all sneaky like?

Well, since no "mundane" person is going to step up to this mug, we can guess that I was "undercover."

I'm pretty limited in a skin, stretch them to hard & they pop.

I'm still strong though. Real strong (meep).

I'm guessin' it would be one of those tough guy scenes you see in all the movies before they got soft & stupid;

"I ain't trapped in here with you - yinz're trapped in here with Me!"

If I was going soft, I'd egg them on, let them make a move, & catch their arm...smile while them little bones in their hand popped.

If I was goin' hard, I'd fold them in half & stuff them in a garbage can to pick up after they get all ripe.

No sense letting some asshole go to waste, am I right?

I fuckin' LOVE dive bars!

Karaoke baby! Is there an open mic?

Don't tell, but more than anything I always wanted to do stand up. That's me: Edgar Stokes - fuckin' Comedian.

Like George Carlin but twice as ugly (meep).

So yeah, I would come in like a wrecking ball - get some tequila or mezcal flowing, hustle some jerks at the billiards, sing some ACDC, hit up some barflies...shit, what am I talkin' to a fuckin' skull for? I have a stake in a dive bar y'know?

Sit? No sitting from this guy! I'd be all over the place - don't get out as much as I used to, dont'-ya-know. Give me a chance to cut loose on the Job? You better fuckin' believe I'm gonna do just that, pal.

Work hard, Play Hard - that's the Sanitation Union's unofficial motto, after all. Nothing like long days of digging through other peoples trash to make you hit the bar still stinking of garbage.

...

Growling...

Say what?

Someone came into MY room & stole from ME?

They don't know it yet, but they just fuckin' died. I'd track the scent of those sons of bitches to Hell & back if that's what it took! I've had this duffel since my first Job - some punk thinks they can take what's MINE???

Fuck, I'd burn the whole God Damn building down before i let them get away. Fuck the Job! There'd be nowhere on this world or any other that those mother-fuckers could run (meep)! I'd kill all of them, eat them while they're still alive, starting with the toes! Might just pay a visit to their families too, especially if I didn't get my shit back.

Nobody touches my stuff. NOBODY. Even brain-damaged Daryll knows better than that - lay one finger on what's mine & I'll have that finger, thank you very much.

Think you can steal the shit out of my pants, do ya?

Angry gibbering...

Much later the Ghoul returns, straightening up things he knocked over & returning to gnaw on the dwindling skeleton.

Tech, huh? Well, infiltration is kinda what I do best - I'd follow someone home or nab them off the street, choke them out so as to make no fuss & y'know - not get blood on their clothes - after that, I'm gonna peel that banana & eat his heart, Anubis style.

No, the memories are in the heart, not the brain, come on.

Shame to eat it raw, kinda gross really, heart's a stringy muscle & does best after aging at least a week or two. Still, needs must. After I done did that I'd pull their memories together in my head enough to talk to them, see if they want to co-operate - most don't but you'd be surprised; when they know this is their last chance before the Great Beyond they sometimes'll ask you to do them a solid in return for info - I ain't got a problem with that if they play it straight. Was nothin' personal on my end, after all.

Anyway, once I got a skin, their card & any codes & passwords they knew the rest is cake.

Guns, huh?

See, I ain't all that worried about guns.

Ghouls, we are pretty dense (in more ways than one, am I right?), so little metal pellets just don't do to us what they do to yinz.

So, it depends on the Job, yeah? If I was taking this guy out, I'd go on with that. If I wasn't, then i'd get out of the way & get on with whatever I was there for. As for a bunch of rich executive types? Why should I care about them?

That was a trick question, kids - there is a very good reason I should care & would need to move quick (meep).

See, whenever your Uncle Edgar comes along a corpse, he either is gonna have a bite if it's proper aged, or hide it somewhere until it's ripe in the case it's to fresh.

Big massacre like that could push those instincts pretty far - I'd be stuffing people under chairs & into duct work before you knew it. Even if they saw me doing it. I know: it's weird, but I can't quite stop myself some times.

So that would probably raise some eyebrows, so it'd be in my best interest to get the Hell out - which I would do, objective dependent of course.

What did I just say?

Cache him for later, of course.

This being a Contractor, I'd be pretty insistent about it too. Could end up with a few more dead team mates if they got all sentimental about it.

I mean, if one of them was all, "No wait, I'm a Cleric! Let me cast Raise Dead!" - then I'd probably give them a shot, provided a liked the guy.

Your Uncle Edgar is a team player, after all.

If not though? Sorry pal. You can have an empty coffin just as well as a full one. Your buddy will get a better memorial from us than any bullshit those I met could manage; this is what we do, after all - I've read that the Akashic Record (Library? Some Zen bullshit) where all memories are stored is actually just some monastery full of Ghouls in orange robes.

Heh, Buddhists but probably not vegetarians (meep).

So, yeah - they're getting eaten by us. Full stop. I am a Monster, but I'm also reasonable - I'd allow for tearful goodbyes or some last words...but make no mistake: We're getting our Pound of Flesh. No. Matter. What. 

Ahahah, again with the tricky questions!

Depends on the letter of the Contract - I've scored a little extra from time to time, but Edgar Stokes don't welch on his bets.

I may be a Monster, but I pay my debts. I keep my word. Because to not do those things is what makes the real Monsters out there.

So, yeah - if that's what the letter of the law is, that's what I'm gonna do. I've met greedy types, try & weasel away anything not nailed down - I ain't that type. Doesn't matter what the doo-hickey in question did, one thing it won't do is give me back my Self Respect if I double crossed a deal in good faith.

Call me old fashioned, but that means a lot to me. The Foremen play it straight with me, they can count on the job getting done. This Blue Collar Garbage Man ain't gonna bite the hand that feeds.

Unless they don't play straight with me, that is (meep).