Categories > Cartoons > King of the Hill
What if Hank and Peggy relocated To the Undervale instead of Saudi Arabia?
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King of The Hill and Haunted Hotel
fanfic tite:
Undead In Undervale
by: Hailey Sands
Chapter One:
EXT. TEXAS STATE FAIR – DAY (FLASHBACK) A massive propane demo stage. Crowds cheer. Hank Hill stands proudly next to the Strickland Super Flame 5000.
Hank: (into mic, dead serious) Folks, propane is the cleanest, safest, most American way to grill. But safety first. Always check your regulator.
Buck Strickland: (off mic, whispering loudly) Light the damn thing, Hank! Sales are watching!
A faulty hiss. Hank’s eyes widen.
Hank: Buck, it’s leaking! Shut it down!
Too late. A spark. BOOM! A fireball erupts. Screams. The grandstand wobbles. Viral footage already filming on phones.
INT. TEXAS RAILROAD COMMISSION HEARING – DAYS LATER
Official: Hank Hill, your propane license is hereby revoked for life. The oil and gas industry has also blacklisted you. You’re a pariah, son.
Hank: (stunned, voice cracking) But… I tried to stop it. It was the regulator Buck—
Official: Next case.
Hank sits there, hat in hands, 15 years from retirement… and nothing left.
Chapter Two:
INT. HILL HOUSE – LIVING ROOM – NIGHT (PRESENT) Hank stares at a beer. Peggy grades papers. Bobby eats a sandwich.
Peggy: Hank, you have to stop moping. There are other jobs. You are a hard worker. Someone will hire you.
Hank: Peggy, I’ve been propane since I was 14. What am I supposed to do now? Sell shoes? I’m branded, woman. “The guy who almost barbecued the State Fair.”
Bobby: Dad, maybe you could open a restaurant. I could help! I’ve been practicing my brisket.
Hank: (soft smile) That’s my boy… but no. We’re not there yet.
The doorbell rings. Dale, Bill, and Boomhauer burst in without waiting.
Dale: Hank! Emergency meeting! I cracked the conspiracy!
Bill: (holding printouts) We found you a job, buddy. It’s perfect for… people like us.
Boomhauer: Yeah man, dang ol’ second-chance place up north, tell you what.
Dale: (slapping paper on table) The Undervale Hotel. Midwich, New York. They hire the fired, the disgraced, the “incident-havers.” No questions asked. Pay’s crap, but housing included.
Hank: New York? I ain’t moving to Yankee country. Especially not some hotel called “Undervale.” Sounds like a discount cemetery.
Peggy: Hank… the bank called today. Another late notice. We have to do something.
Hank: (long sigh) …Damn it.
Chapter Three:
EXT. UNDERVALE HOTEL – ESTABLISHING – DUSK A crumbling, gothic hotel in upstate New York. Fog. Distant screams that might be owls… or not. The Hill family minivan pulls up, loaded with boxes and propane tanks (Hank couldn’t leave them behind).
INT. UNDERVALE LOBBY – MOMENTS LATER Katherine Freeling (frazzled, clipboard in hand) waits at the desk. Nathan Freeling (semi-transparent ghost, chill vibe) floats beside her. Ben and Esther peek from the stairs. Stabby Paul lurks in the corner, knife out.
Katherine: You must be the new maintenance family. Hank Hill? We’re desperate. The last guy quit after the chandelier tried to French kiss him.
Hank: (shaking her hand firmly) Ma’am. Hank Hill. This is my wife Peggy, and our boy Bobby. I fix things. I don’t do… whatever that screaming was.
Peggy: (brightly) I will be assisting with the front desk. I have a Master’s in Spanish, but I can learn “ghost” quickly.
Bobby: And I heard there’s a culinary boarding school here? I want to open my own restaurant one day. Maybe “Bobby’s Spooky Brisket.”
Esther: (grinning, stepping forward) Ooh, new victims— I mean guests! Hi, I’m Esther. Want to see me bait a ghost?
Stabby Paul: (popping up behind Hank, knife raised) STABBY! STABBY!
He swings wildly. The knife passes harmlessly through Hank’s back.
Hank: (not even flinching, deadpan) Boy, I tell you what. You are the sorriest excuse for a serial killer I have ever seen. And I’ve met Dale Gribble.
Stabby Paul: (confused, keeps stabbing) …Stabby?
Nathan: (floating over, laughing) Easy there, Paul. New guy’s not food. Hank, right? I’m Nathan. Dead owner. Still on payroll somehow. Welcome to the family business. We’ve got leaky pipes in the east wing, bloodstains that keep coming back, and a demon in the basement who owes me twenty bucks.
Ben: (awkward wave) Uh… hi. I’m Ben. I just try to keep things normal. Good luck with that.
Katherine: (pinching nose) One enormous problem at a time. Hank, the boiler’s possessed again. Think you can handle it?
Hank: Possessed? Ma’am, if it runs on fuel, I can fix it. Even if it’s got attitude.
He grabs his toolbox. Stabby Paul follows, still trying (and failing) to stab him.
Chapter Four:
INT. BASEMENT BOILER ROOM – NIGHT Hank works under the ancient boiler. Tools float helpfully thanks to friendly ghosts. Stabby Paul “helps” by stabbing at pipes.
Hank: (to the air) Look, I don’t know if y’all can hear me, but in Texas we fix things proper. No floating. No screaming. And definitely no stabbing my wrench hand.
A ghost hand offers him a socket wrench.
Hank: …Appreciate it.
Nathan: (appearing, sipping ethereal beer) You’re taking this better than most. Most new hires scream for an hour then run.
Hank: I’ve had worse days. Got blacklisted from the only job I ever loved because of a bad regulator and a cheap boss. At least here nobody’s pretending it’s safe.
Nathan: (clinking invisible beer) Amen, brother. Even ghosts deserve a cold one after dealing with Esther.
UPSTAIRS – LOBBY Peggy organizes the front desk. Esther watches, impressed.
Peggy: Young lady, you cannot keep taunting the undead without proper sentence structure. “Stabby stabby” is not a battle cry. It needs commas at minimum.
Esther: (laughing) You’re weird. I like you. Want to help me exorcise the mirror in Room 237 later?
Peggy: Only if we do it with confidence and correct grammar.
Bobby: (walking in with a ghost chef floating beside him) Mom! Dad! The culinary school has a 1920s ghost chef who was murdered mid-soufflé! He says my dry rub has “potential.” I’m gonna learn how to make food that calms angry spirits!
Ben: (joining) Yeah… welcome to my life. At least your dad isn’t trying to pressure-wash the blood off the wallpaper at 3 a.m.
Hank: (entering from basement, covered in soot but satisfied) Boiler’s fixed. Told the demon inside it to behave or I’d install a Texas-sized propane line. It listened.
Katherine: (genuinely shocked) …You’re hired. Permanently. Please never leave.
Stabby Paul: (still stabbing at Hank’s leg) STABBY!
Hank: (patting the ghost on the head like a dog) Good effort, son. Here—hold my wrench. Make yourself useful.
Stabby Paul takes the wrench, delighted, and floats off “helping.”
Peggy: (smiling at Hank) See? New start. Even if it’s haunted.
Hank: (looking around at the weird, chaotic, strangely welcoming hotel) Yeah… I reckon it’ll do. Long as they let me keep my propane tanks. And nobody touches my lawn— er, grounds.
Nathan: (to camera, breaking fourth wall lightly) Told you the Texans would fix this place.
Esther: Next week: the ballroom poltergeist wants to learn line dancing!
Everyone: (in unison, exhausted but fond) That’s my purse! I don’t know you!
Chapter Five:
INT. UNDERVALE HOTEL – BALLROOM – NIGHT
The grand ballroom is a mess. Floating chairs. Blood writing on the walls that says “GET OUT” in cursive. A chandelier spins like a disco ball from hell. Katherine stands in the middle, arms crossed, looking ready to burn the place down.
Katherine: This is the third time this month! The Poltergeist of ’28 won’t stop rearranging the furniture into pentagrams. We have a wedding reception booked for Saturday!
Nathan: (floating nearby, sipping ghostly coffee) Relax, Kat. It’s just lonely. Maybe it needs a hobby.
Esther: (grinning, holding a salt shaker like a weapon) Or maybe it needs me to punch it in the face. Who’s with me?
Ben: (hiding behind a table) I vote we close the ballroom forever.
Suddenly the doors burst open. Hank Hill marches in wearing work overalls, pushing a heavy-duty industrial pressure washer on wheels. A propane tank is strapped to it like a rocket.
Hank: Alright, listen up. I heard we got a ghost problem in here. In Texas we don’t negotiate with spirits. We clean ’em.
Peggy: (following, notebook in hand) Hank, dear, maybe we should try talking first. With confidence.
Hank: Talking is what got me blacklisted from propane. Today we pressure wash.
Stabby Paul: (popping up beside Hank, knife raised) Stabby! Stabby!
He enthusiastically stabs at the pressure washer hose. Nothing happens.
Hank: (without looking) Paul, you’re on hose duty. Try not to cut it.
Stabby Paul salutes with the knife and grabs the hose proudly.
Chapter Six:
The Hills, Freelings, and a few ghosts are gathered. Bobby is eating cereal while a ghostly chef hovers, giving tips.
Bobby: So the ghost chef says my roux needs more love… and maybe less fear of butter.
Ben: Dude, your dad is about to pressure wash a 100-year-old ghost. This is the weirdest week of my life.
Esther: I’m filming it. This is gonna be better than TikTok.
Katherine: Hank, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but the last maintenance man who tried “cleaning” the ballroom ended up speaking in tongues for three days.
Hank: Ma’am, that man probably didn’t use the right PSI. I calibrated this baby to 3200. It’ll blast ectoplasm right off the wallpaper without damaging the original 1892 plaster. I respect history.
Peggy: And I will supervise. Someone needs to make sure proper grammar is used during the exorcism. “Begone, foul spirit” has much better rhythm than “Get out.”
Nathan: (chuckling) You people are insane. I love it. Hank, if this works, drinks are on me. Well… on the house.
Hank: (nodding respectfully) Appreciate it, Nathan. Even dead men deserve a cold one after a long shift.
Chapter Seven:
INT. BALLROOM – LATER THAT DAY
Hank has set up like he’s cleaning an oil rig. Safety goggles on. Pressure washer roaring with a low propane hum. The poltergeist responds by making the walls bleed faster.
Hank: Alright, you no-good, furniture-throwing Yankee ghost! This is my hotel now—well, technically Katherine’s, but I’m on payroll! Time to act right!
He pulls the trigger. A powerful jet of water mixed with rock salt (Bobby suggested the salt) blasts the walls. The blood writing smears and fades with an angry screech.
Poltergeist Voice: (echoing) Who dares—
Hank: I dare! Name’s Hank Hill! I been blacklisted from propane, moved 1,500 miles, and I am not lettin’ some dead guy ruin a perfectly good ballroom!
Stabby Paul floats around excitedly, stabbing at floating chairs to “help.”
Esther: (cheering) Go Texas! Hit it harder!
Peggy: (shouting over the noise) You heard my husband! Begone, you illiterate spirit! Your punctuation is atrocious!
The poltergeist retaliates. Tables fly at Hank. He ducks like a pro.
Hank: That all you got? I once dealt with Buck Strickland on a bad day!
Bobby runs in carrying a tray.
Bobby: Dad! The ghost chef made calming brisket sliders! Maybe food works better than water?
Hank: Son, not now—wait… actually, that might be the smartest thing anyone’s said all day.
Chapter Eight:
The pressure washer is temporarily paused. Bobby places the sliders in the center of the ballroom.
Bobby: Here, Mr. Ghost. Try this. It’s got my special dry rub. Anger tastes better with brown sugar.
The poltergeist hesitates. A chair slowly lowers. An invisible hand picks up a slider. A content sigh echoes.
Poltergeist: (much calmer) …Not bad. Needs more smoke.
Hank: (impressed) Well I’ll be. Bobby, you might be onto something.
Katherine: (watching in awe) That actually worked. Hank, your family is insane… but effective.
Nathan: (floating over) Told you the Texans would fix this place. Hank, you just saved us a fortune in new furniture.
Ben: (relieved) And I didn’t even have to talk to it. Thanks, guys.
Esther: (pouting playfully) But I wanted to punch it…
Peggy: Esther, dear, sometimes the best exorcism is a well-seasoned brisket and a firm talking-to. With proper subject-verb agreement.
Suddenly Stabby Paul gets too excited and knocks over the pressure washer. It sprays wildly, hitting Hank full blast.
Hank: (soaked, deadpan) Boy, I tell you what… that’s my purse. I don’t know you!
Everyone laughs. Even the poltergeist chuckles.
Chapter Nine:
INT. UNDERVALE LOBBY – EVENING
The wedding reception is going smoothly. The ballroom is spotless. The poltergeist is now quietly rearranging chairs into neat rows and occasionally humming old jazz.
Katherine: (to Hank) I don’t know how to thank you. For the first time in years, we might actually turn a profit this month.
Hank: Just doing my job, ma’am. Though I gotta admit… this place is growing on me. Even with the screaming.
Nathan: (clinking an invisible beer bottle against Hank’s real one) To new starts. And to not getting blacklisted from ghost maintenance.
Peggy: (smiling) See, Hank? You’re still fixing things. Just… with more ectoplasm.
Bobby: And I’m learning recipes that make ghosts happy! My restaurant’s gonna have a whole “Undervale Special” menu one day.
Esther: Next time we should let me handle the demon in the basement. I bet I can make it tap dance.
Ben: Please no.
Stabby Paul: (floating by, now wearing a tiny “Employee of the Month” sticker Hank made for him) Stabby… helpful?
Hank: (patting the ghost on the shoulder) You’re learning, Paul. Slow and steady.
Hank looks around at the weird little family they’ve joined — living, dead, and somewhere in between.
Hank: (quietly, to himself) Yeah… this’ll do.
Nathan: (to camera, light fourth-wall) Next week: Peggy tries to unionize the ghosts. God help us all.
Everyone: (raising glasses or ethereal mugs)
Hank/Peggy/Bobby: Yep! Yep! Hoo Yeah!
The End
fanfic tite:
Undead In Undervale
by: Hailey Sands
Chapter One:
EXT. TEXAS STATE FAIR – DAY (FLASHBACK) A massive propane demo stage. Crowds cheer. Hank Hill stands proudly next to the Strickland Super Flame 5000.
Hank: (into mic, dead serious) Folks, propane is the cleanest, safest, most American way to grill. But safety first. Always check your regulator.
Buck Strickland: (off mic, whispering loudly) Light the damn thing, Hank! Sales are watching!
A faulty hiss. Hank’s eyes widen.
Hank: Buck, it’s leaking! Shut it down!
Too late. A spark. BOOM! A fireball erupts. Screams. The grandstand wobbles. Viral footage already filming on phones.
INT. TEXAS RAILROAD COMMISSION HEARING – DAYS LATER
Official: Hank Hill, your propane license is hereby revoked for life. The oil and gas industry has also blacklisted you. You’re a pariah, son.
Hank: (stunned, voice cracking) But… I tried to stop it. It was the regulator Buck—
Official: Next case.
Hank sits there, hat in hands, 15 years from retirement… and nothing left.
Chapter Two:
INT. HILL HOUSE – LIVING ROOM – NIGHT (PRESENT) Hank stares at a beer. Peggy grades papers. Bobby eats a sandwich.
Peggy: Hank, you have to stop moping. There are other jobs. You are a hard worker. Someone will hire you.
Hank: Peggy, I’ve been propane since I was 14. What am I supposed to do now? Sell shoes? I’m branded, woman. “The guy who almost barbecued the State Fair.”
Bobby: Dad, maybe you could open a restaurant. I could help! I’ve been practicing my brisket.
Hank: (soft smile) That’s my boy… but no. We’re not there yet.
The doorbell rings. Dale, Bill, and Boomhauer burst in without waiting.
Dale: Hank! Emergency meeting! I cracked the conspiracy!
Bill: (holding printouts) We found you a job, buddy. It’s perfect for… people like us.
Boomhauer: Yeah man, dang ol’ second-chance place up north, tell you what.
Dale: (slapping paper on table) The Undervale Hotel. Midwich, New York. They hire the fired, the disgraced, the “incident-havers.” No questions asked. Pay’s crap, but housing included.
Hank: New York? I ain’t moving to Yankee country. Especially not some hotel called “Undervale.” Sounds like a discount cemetery.
Peggy: Hank… the bank called today. Another late notice. We have to do something.
Hank: (long sigh) …Damn it.
Chapter Three:
EXT. UNDERVALE HOTEL – ESTABLISHING – DUSK A crumbling, gothic hotel in upstate New York. Fog. Distant screams that might be owls… or not. The Hill family minivan pulls up, loaded with boxes and propane tanks (Hank couldn’t leave them behind).
INT. UNDERVALE LOBBY – MOMENTS LATER Katherine Freeling (frazzled, clipboard in hand) waits at the desk. Nathan Freeling (semi-transparent ghost, chill vibe) floats beside her. Ben and Esther peek from the stairs. Stabby Paul lurks in the corner, knife out.
Katherine: You must be the new maintenance family. Hank Hill? We’re desperate. The last guy quit after the chandelier tried to French kiss him.
Hank: (shaking her hand firmly) Ma’am. Hank Hill. This is my wife Peggy, and our boy Bobby. I fix things. I don’t do… whatever that screaming was.
Peggy: (brightly) I will be assisting with the front desk. I have a Master’s in Spanish, but I can learn “ghost” quickly.
Bobby: And I heard there’s a culinary boarding school here? I want to open my own restaurant one day. Maybe “Bobby’s Spooky Brisket.”
Esther: (grinning, stepping forward) Ooh, new victims— I mean guests! Hi, I’m Esther. Want to see me bait a ghost?
Stabby Paul: (popping up behind Hank, knife raised) STABBY! STABBY!
He swings wildly. The knife passes harmlessly through Hank’s back.
Hank: (not even flinching, deadpan) Boy, I tell you what. You are the sorriest excuse for a serial killer I have ever seen. And I’ve met Dale Gribble.
Stabby Paul: (confused, keeps stabbing) …Stabby?
Nathan: (floating over, laughing) Easy there, Paul. New guy’s not food. Hank, right? I’m Nathan. Dead owner. Still on payroll somehow. Welcome to the family business. We’ve got leaky pipes in the east wing, bloodstains that keep coming back, and a demon in the basement who owes me twenty bucks.
Ben: (awkward wave) Uh… hi. I’m Ben. I just try to keep things normal. Good luck with that.
Katherine: (pinching nose) One enormous problem at a time. Hank, the boiler’s possessed again. Think you can handle it?
Hank: Possessed? Ma’am, if it runs on fuel, I can fix it. Even if it’s got attitude.
He grabs his toolbox. Stabby Paul follows, still trying (and failing) to stab him.
Chapter Four:
INT. BASEMENT BOILER ROOM – NIGHT Hank works under the ancient boiler. Tools float helpfully thanks to friendly ghosts. Stabby Paul “helps” by stabbing at pipes.
Hank: (to the air) Look, I don’t know if y’all can hear me, but in Texas we fix things proper. No floating. No screaming. And definitely no stabbing my wrench hand.
A ghost hand offers him a socket wrench.
Hank: …Appreciate it.
Nathan: (appearing, sipping ethereal beer) You’re taking this better than most. Most new hires scream for an hour then run.
Hank: I’ve had worse days. Got blacklisted from the only job I ever loved because of a bad regulator and a cheap boss. At least here nobody’s pretending it’s safe.
Nathan: (clinking invisible beer) Amen, brother. Even ghosts deserve a cold one after dealing with Esther.
UPSTAIRS – LOBBY Peggy organizes the front desk. Esther watches, impressed.
Peggy: Young lady, you cannot keep taunting the undead without proper sentence structure. “Stabby stabby” is not a battle cry. It needs commas at minimum.
Esther: (laughing) You’re weird. I like you. Want to help me exorcise the mirror in Room 237 later?
Peggy: Only if we do it with confidence and correct grammar.
Bobby: (walking in with a ghost chef floating beside him) Mom! Dad! The culinary school has a 1920s ghost chef who was murdered mid-soufflé! He says my dry rub has “potential.” I’m gonna learn how to make food that calms angry spirits!
Ben: (joining) Yeah… welcome to my life. At least your dad isn’t trying to pressure-wash the blood off the wallpaper at 3 a.m.
Hank: (entering from basement, covered in soot but satisfied) Boiler’s fixed. Told the demon inside it to behave or I’d install a Texas-sized propane line. It listened.
Katherine: (genuinely shocked) …You’re hired. Permanently. Please never leave.
Stabby Paul: (still stabbing at Hank’s leg) STABBY!
Hank: (patting the ghost on the head like a dog) Good effort, son. Here—hold my wrench. Make yourself useful.
Stabby Paul takes the wrench, delighted, and floats off “helping.”
Peggy: (smiling at Hank) See? New start. Even if it’s haunted.
Hank: (looking around at the weird, chaotic, strangely welcoming hotel) Yeah… I reckon it’ll do. Long as they let me keep my propane tanks. And nobody touches my lawn— er, grounds.
Nathan: (to camera, breaking fourth wall lightly) Told you the Texans would fix this place.
Esther: Next week: the ballroom poltergeist wants to learn line dancing!
Everyone: (in unison, exhausted but fond) That’s my purse! I don’t know you!
Chapter Five:
INT. UNDERVALE HOTEL – BALLROOM – NIGHT
The grand ballroom is a mess. Floating chairs. Blood writing on the walls that says “GET OUT” in cursive. A chandelier spins like a disco ball from hell. Katherine stands in the middle, arms crossed, looking ready to burn the place down.
Katherine: This is the third time this month! The Poltergeist of ’28 won’t stop rearranging the furniture into pentagrams. We have a wedding reception booked for Saturday!
Nathan: (floating nearby, sipping ghostly coffee) Relax, Kat. It’s just lonely. Maybe it needs a hobby.
Esther: (grinning, holding a salt shaker like a weapon) Or maybe it needs me to punch it in the face. Who’s with me?
Ben: (hiding behind a table) I vote we close the ballroom forever.
Suddenly the doors burst open. Hank Hill marches in wearing work overalls, pushing a heavy-duty industrial pressure washer on wheels. A propane tank is strapped to it like a rocket.
Hank: Alright, listen up. I heard we got a ghost problem in here. In Texas we don’t negotiate with spirits. We clean ’em.
Peggy: (following, notebook in hand) Hank, dear, maybe we should try talking first. With confidence.
Hank: Talking is what got me blacklisted from propane. Today we pressure wash.
Stabby Paul: (popping up beside Hank, knife raised) Stabby! Stabby!
He enthusiastically stabs at the pressure washer hose. Nothing happens.
Hank: (without looking) Paul, you’re on hose duty. Try not to cut it.
Stabby Paul salutes with the knife and grabs the hose proudly.
Chapter Six:
The Hills, Freelings, and a few ghosts are gathered. Bobby is eating cereal while a ghostly chef hovers, giving tips.
Bobby: So the ghost chef says my roux needs more love… and maybe less fear of butter.
Ben: Dude, your dad is about to pressure wash a 100-year-old ghost. This is the weirdest week of my life.
Esther: I’m filming it. This is gonna be better than TikTok.
Katherine: Hank, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but the last maintenance man who tried “cleaning” the ballroom ended up speaking in tongues for three days.
Hank: Ma’am, that man probably didn’t use the right PSI. I calibrated this baby to 3200. It’ll blast ectoplasm right off the wallpaper without damaging the original 1892 plaster. I respect history.
Peggy: And I will supervise. Someone needs to make sure proper grammar is used during the exorcism. “Begone, foul spirit” has much better rhythm than “Get out.”
Nathan: (chuckling) You people are insane. I love it. Hank, if this works, drinks are on me. Well… on the house.
Hank: (nodding respectfully) Appreciate it, Nathan. Even dead men deserve a cold one after a long shift.
Chapter Seven:
INT. BALLROOM – LATER THAT DAY
Hank has set up like he’s cleaning an oil rig. Safety goggles on. Pressure washer roaring with a low propane hum. The poltergeist responds by making the walls bleed faster.
Hank: Alright, you no-good, furniture-throwing Yankee ghost! This is my hotel now—well, technically Katherine’s, but I’m on payroll! Time to act right!
He pulls the trigger. A powerful jet of water mixed with rock salt (Bobby suggested the salt) blasts the walls. The blood writing smears and fades with an angry screech.
Poltergeist Voice: (echoing) Who dares—
Hank: I dare! Name’s Hank Hill! I been blacklisted from propane, moved 1,500 miles, and I am not lettin’ some dead guy ruin a perfectly good ballroom!
Stabby Paul floats around excitedly, stabbing at floating chairs to “help.”
Esther: (cheering) Go Texas! Hit it harder!
Peggy: (shouting over the noise) You heard my husband! Begone, you illiterate spirit! Your punctuation is atrocious!
The poltergeist retaliates. Tables fly at Hank. He ducks like a pro.
Hank: That all you got? I once dealt with Buck Strickland on a bad day!
Bobby runs in carrying a tray.
Bobby: Dad! The ghost chef made calming brisket sliders! Maybe food works better than water?
Hank: Son, not now—wait… actually, that might be the smartest thing anyone’s said all day.
Chapter Eight:
The pressure washer is temporarily paused. Bobby places the sliders in the center of the ballroom.
Bobby: Here, Mr. Ghost. Try this. It’s got my special dry rub. Anger tastes better with brown sugar.
The poltergeist hesitates. A chair slowly lowers. An invisible hand picks up a slider. A content sigh echoes.
Poltergeist: (much calmer) …Not bad. Needs more smoke.
Hank: (impressed) Well I’ll be. Bobby, you might be onto something.
Katherine: (watching in awe) That actually worked. Hank, your family is insane… but effective.
Nathan: (floating over) Told you the Texans would fix this place. Hank, you just saved us a fortune in new furniture.
Ben: (relieved) And I didn’t even have to talk to it. Thanks, guys.
Esther: (pouting playfully) But I wanted to punch it…
Peggy: Esther, dear, sometimes the best exorcism is a well-seasoned brisket and a firm talking-to. With proper subject-verb agreement.
Suddenly Stabby Paul gets too excited and knocks over the pressure washer. It sprays wildly, hitting Hank full blast.
Hank: (soaked, deadpan) Boy, I tell you what… that’s my purse. I don’t know you!
Everyone laughs. Even the poltergeist chuckles.
Chapter Nine:
INT. UNDERVALE LOBBY – EVENING
The wedding reception is going smoothly. The ballroom is spotless. The poltergeist is now quietly rearranging chairs into neat rows and occasionally humming old jazz.
Katherine: (to Hank) I don’t know how to thank you. For the first time in years, we might actually turn a profit this month.
Hank: Just doing my job, ma’am. Though I gotta admit… this place is growing on me. Even with the screaming.
Nathan: (clinking an invisible beer bottle against Hank’s real one) To new starts. And to not getting blacklisted from ghost maintenance.
Peggy: (smiling) See, Hank? You’re still fixing things. Just… with more ectoplasm.
Bobby: And I’m learning recipes that make ghosts happy! My restaurant’s gonna have a whole “Undervale Special” menu one day.
Esther: Next time we should let me handle the demon in the basement. I bet I can make it tap dance.
Ben: Please no.
Stabby Paul: (floating by, now wearing a tiny “Employee of the Month” sticker Hank made for him) Stabby… helpful?
Hank: (patting the ghost on the shoulder) You’re learning, Paul. Slow and steady.
Hank looks around at the weird little family they’ve joined — living, dead, and somewhere in between.
Hank: (quietly, to himself) Yeah… this’ll do.
Nathan: (to camera, light fourth-wall) Next week: Peggy tries to unionize the ghosts. God help us all.
Everyone: (raising glasses or ethereal mugs)
Hank/Peggy/Bobby: Yep! Yep! Hoo Yeah!
The End
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