Necroeconomics

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[Scene: Yarcs’ Lair – Dim lights flicker, incense wafts through the air, and Sniffy is spinning in a circle of pennies.]

Yarcs (chanting):

O demon of dimes! O spirit of cents!

Sniffy and I invoke the past rents!

From sofa’s abyss and the coat pocket’s bend,

Let every stray coin return to me, friend.

If it was dropped, forgotten, or lent—

I summon it now, to the very last cent!

Sniffy lets out a shrill whistle and vomits up a copper washer.

A faint glow emerges from Yarcs’ vault. A penny rolls in. Then another. Then five.

Yarcs (delighted):

It’s working! The ritual hath begun!

We conjure cash like mortals run from the sun!

Oh Sniffy, we are so very nearly rich.

Let’s summon… a spell booster! YES! Witch-enhanced greed!

[He casts a “spell booster” using two dead batteries and a stick of cinnamon. Sparks fly. Across town, Tim gets a ping.]

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[Scene: Tim’s apartment – Salem, Massachusetts Mail arrives. One check, crisp and suspiciously timely.]

Tim (opening it):

“Huh. Check from… Salem Municipal Spirits? $2,017.31?”

(looks around suspiciously)

“Wait. Did Yarcs do something again?”

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[Back in Yarcs’ lair]

Yarcs (hissing in glee):

The spell has landed! The coffers obey!

Tim hath received the tribute of payday!

Sniffy, fetch me the check! We’ll invest in fog machines and a coffin throne!

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[Tim arrives. Yarcs glows faintly green with greed.]

Yarcs (demanding):

“Hand over the check, fleshbag! That’s my ritual yield! It’s my Halloween tithe!”

Tim:

“You’re insane. You summoned money for me, not from me. I’m not giving two grand to a plastic skull with delusions of necroeconomics.”

Yarcs (offended):

“NECROECONOMICS is a legitimate dark art, Tim! Don’t you dare mock the fiscal undead!”

Sniffy wheezes and rattles a few coins in protest.

Yarcs (pleading):

“Fine! Fine! Just give me a cut. Forty percent. For… spell tax. And emotional distress.”

Tim:

“You’ll get nothing and like it. Go chant over your crayon runes.”

Yarcs (grumbling):

“I curse you with a parking ticket, Tim. And a runny faucet. And may your next takeout forget the dipping sauce.”

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Scene: Tim’s apartment – evening

(Tim’s faucet drips nonstop. His phone keeps autocorrecting “yes” to “yaks.” A grocery bag splits open. One egg survives.)

Tim (to himself):

“Okay. That’s the third stubbed toe, fourth mysterious pop-up ad for haunted timeshares, and my coffee machine is brewing… soup.”

(He picks up his phone and calls Yarcs.)

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Scene: Old Orchard Inn – Yarcs’ Vault Chamber

(Yarcs lounges in a nest of loose change and glowsticks. Sniffy spins a coin like a tiny roulette wheel.)

Yarcs (into crystal ball):

“Ah, Timothy! Have you finally accepted the depth of your poor life choices and come to beg me to reverse the hex?”

Tim:

“You cursed me, Yarcs. It’s not a hex, it’s a passive-aggressive inconvenience spell. Remove it. Now.”

Yarcs (grinning skull):

“No! This is The Curse of Mild But Persistent Irritation! My masterpiece! I call it: Death by a Thousand Papercuts.”

Tim:

“Reverse it or I’m replacing your LEDs with flickering warm white bulbs.”

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Scene: Later That Night

(Tim is hit by a sudden streak of good luck. The vending machine gives two snacks. His old scratcher ticket wins $10. A neighbor bakes extra cookies. Even his cat cuddles him voluntarily.)

Tim (calling Yarcs again):

“Okay, what is this? You flipped the curse?”

Yarcs (cackling):

“Yes! You’re now under The Blessing of Uncomfortable Fortune! Every time something might go wrong — it goes right instead. Delicious torment, isn’t it?”

Tim:

“This is suspiciously pleasant. What’s the catch?”

Yarcs:

“Now you owe me! For services rendered! Magic is not a charity, Timothy. Pay up!”

Tim (smirking):

“You live rent-free in the Old Orchard Inn, Yarcs. You set fire to the attic twice and tried to summon a vending machine demon into the icebox.”

Yarcs (indignant):

“That was Sniffy’s idea!”

Tim:

“Look. You already get power, internet, and whatever loose change tourists leave under the bed. I’d hate to start charging my… friend… rent.”

Yarcs (deflating):

“Hmph. Emotional blackmail. The most vile form of sorcery.”

Tim:

“Glad we understand each other.”

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[Sniffy coughs up a paperclip. The lights flicker. Yarcs grumbles and retreats into his coin hoard.]

Yarcs (muttering):

“One day… one day, he’ll stub his toe so hard, he’ll pay me in blood.”

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YARCS’ HAUNTED HAYRIDE & BARN WALKTHROUGH

The Portal Is Open… and It’s Hungry.

Welcome, foolish mortals, to Yarcs Lluks’ Haunted Hayride & Possession Barn — a terrifying trip through pitch-black corridors, whispering walls, and the cursed northeast corner where the veil has thinned.

Tickets:

$10 – For a chance to scream

$20 – If you leave with a “friend” and need a quick exorcism…

What You Might Encounter:

• Sniffy, reanimated and unusually bitey

• The Coin Vault Warden, who doesn’t like sticky fingers

• A floating battery that screams brand names backwards

• The Cranium Choir, eleven LED-lit skulls singing cursed show tunes

• The Portal, humming like an old CRT and smelling like burned ozone and regret

“I thought it was all fake until I couldn’t stop crying blood for three days.”

— Darla, satisfied but haunted customer

Warning: Not recommended for:

• Pregnant ghosts

• Those with weak hearts or strong spirits

• Anyone who owes Yarcs a penny

Come for the screams.

Stay… because you can’t leave.

Yarcs’ Haunted Barn — Open nightly until All Hallows’ Eve.

Don’t forget to wave three times if you want him to recognize your soul.

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