Jason in the Ghost Zone

A Hat Less Loved

It was another unknowable time of day - or night whatever- in the world of green swirlyness, as he'd taken to calling the timeless world of swirly green clouds and floating islands that was all he could remember - the stupid hat chimed as if to disagree so he threw it over the islands again.

There was no telling how long he'd been in this place, but it felt both strange yet somehow familiar at the same time, like he'd newly arrived and been there all his life at the same time. For the sake of his sanity he was just going to sat he'd been there a while and leave it at that, he had bigger concerns. Like the fact that he still hadn't been able to get rid of it. The bane of his short existance, the black hole that sucked joy from every pore in his body, the monstrosity on his head that by its freaking ear piercing jingling denied everything he knew to be true.

'No, your existance couldn't have been that short. You can tell by now that your body doesn't even have pores. I'm not black hole; I'm two toned.' And the worst, the absolute worst of all; 'I'm a hat, thinking I have any kind of awareness makes you crazy'.

"M'not crazy", he said it aloud, just to hear the voice of the one person he decided was completely sane. None of the people he'd had the chance to speak to so far could have been said to have a clean bill of mental health.

He sighed.

The hat was back again.

Trying to get rid of the abominable thing had been his mission as soon as he'd finished laughing like an acrobat - he wasn't sure where exactly that analogy had come from but it felt right.

The hat had already been tosses over the edge countless times it, but it just kept coming right on back, so he'd resorted to more strenuous means. Means that involved more than just lifting his arm, tipping forward, and watching as the thing grew in to a black and white speck in the distance, the tinkling of his bells fading away into nothingness...

Only to reapear as soon as it was out of sight, right atop his head with a vindictive chiming.

He'd lost count of how many times he'd attempted that simple tactic before he gave it up as hopeless.

After scratching at the ground proved it too hard and unyeilding for the scraping up off any hole large enough that the hat could be buried, he peered over the edge to take in his surroundings. In every direction were more floating islands, floating doors - something he made sure to pretend wasn't creepy - and of course more green swirlyness as far as the eye could see.

Not too far below him was an island that immediately caught his sharp eye. It was forested. Forests meant sticks and possibly soft, loamy soil, both of which would make his task doable. Carefully, he made his way over the edge.

ooo

In a word, Danny Fenton was tired. He'd admit to that much, but only when he was Danny Fenton. He was tired of lying to his family. Tired of dangerous inventions acting out around him. Tired of his friends nagging him to rest Mostly though, he was just tired of being awake.

Unfortunately these were all Danny Fenton's probelms. Danny Fenton could afford to be tired of everything and anything he wanted whenever he wanted, as long as it was only Dannny Fenton who worried about it.

Danny Phantom, however didn't have the luxury of indulging in exhaustion. Danny Phantom had to stay on gaurd constantly. As Danny Phantom he could be attacked at any time. This had been the norm for over a year now. A year of fighting to keep the people of Amity safe from creatures who wouldn't know to harm it if not for the stupid portal in his stupid basement.

The stupid portal that neither Fenton nor Phantom were usually stupid enough to be careless around. He'd just been so... not tired definitely not tired, but maybe overwelmed by all the work he'd had lately. Fenton had been swamped by school assignments he hadn't been able to work on because Phantom had been fighting off a string of attacks, one after another for the better part of a three weeks.

Stupid ghosts. Fenton had just found out that he'd have to repeat the year if he didn't hand in his assignments on time, and then Fenton's troubles had had to take a backseat to Phantoms yet again. Stupid box ghost.

It was a little hard to come to remember exactly how it had happened. He wasn't sure if it was because he'd been too overwelmed to pay much attention, or because he'd have died of embarrassment if he remembered enough about a fight in wich he'd been overwelmed by the Box Ghost!

Stuck floating around the ghost zone inside the stupid Fenton thermos was enough to worry about as it was. He knew he had more to worry about, and most other times he would have been more worried about being trapped with very little chance of escape, but his thoughts kept wandering off to how appealing the idea of a nap was just then.

So he busied his mind with thoughts of how stupid the world was, because it was better than thinking about how hopeless his situation really was. The chances of his friends knowing what had happened to him were slim, and even then it'd take them a while to find and free him once they had.

He wasn't woried about never being freed. They did have the booomerang after all. They'd definitely find him. What made the situation hopeless was that they wouldn't find him soon enough for him to complete his stupid homework. He'd have to repeat the year. It seemed such a trivial thing compared to what else he was facing, but thinking about it made him want to sob. Heroes didn't cry. Heroes didn't get tired. So dwelling on thoughts of either school or napping were unacceptable.

For a while he toyed with the idea of one of his enemies releasing him, if he were capable of making a sound he would have laughed. He amused himself by imaging himself being freed by Skulker. The hunter would open the thermos thinking he was helping a fellow ghost and out would pop his prey.

In truth Danny doubted the squishy blob of a ghost would take even as little as those couple seconds to unscrew a lid for a fellow ghost.

Having nothing less depressing to do he returned to his previous line of thought. He was so engrossed in his mental tirade of the world's stupidity that it took him a few moments to notice he was free.

And on Skulkers island.

A quick scan brought him some piece of mind with the knowledge that, at least for now his pelt was safe, no hulking shadow hovering in wait for him; piece of mind that was short lived when he took note of a ghost looking standing right in front of him.

Next to the unfamiliar ghost was a patch of freshly disturbed soil, the tip of bell-topped fabric cone poking out. When he blinked it vanished, and the ghost gained jingly black and white jester's hat.