1st voodoo curse
[LeChuck woke up angry. Being really angry tends to happen after you’ve been exploded into tiny little bits, something he was all too familiar with. He was even more angry when he saw that this was not anywhere that was even remotely familiar to him, and not only that, but he was, without a doubt, human. Again. Feeling the rage coming to a boil, he threw off the bed sheets and stormed out of the strange room. The more he explored this house, the angrier he became.
Whatever this was, it had to be the work of that saucy wench, the Voodoo Lady! Would he ne’er be free of her bewitching grasp? Just thinking about how close to victory he was, how he was nearly free of her influence, and just like that, that THREEPWOOD went and ruined everything again, and now he was trapped in some dainty little house, per the machinations of that scheming harlot!
By the time he reached the quaint little kitchen, his fury had reached a point where he wanted to destroy the first thing he laid his eyes on, which was unfortunate for the kitchen table. LeChuck grasped it by one end and flipped it up, sending it flying across the room. The sound of shattering glass and splintering wood calmed him a bit, at least enough to think clearly for a minute and realize that perhaps flipping the table was a mistake. Whoever it was in the bed next to him would surely notice this, and without his voodoo, LeChuck would be unable to bewitch them into forgetting it. Quickly, he righted the table and chairs as best he could, and replaced everything that had been sitting on it prior, despite that the sugar bowl and plates were irrevocably broken.
He was just going to have to play this off, he thought as he stroked his chin. He was going to have to play a lot of this off.]
[PHONE: It seems one of the darling little drone children at 2241 Stevens Rd left the phone off the hook, and you may find yourself awoken by the sound of a kitchen table flying across a room. Gee, I sure hope nobody got hurt!]
[ACTION: Later in the day, you might spot an extremely large man with a beard of absolutely epic proportions wandering through the town, looking bewildered and wearing his Mayfield-provided sweater vest backwards. Every now and then he stops to examine a mailbox, perplexed by the little red flag on the side.]