Chapter Text
Luigi had finally done it. After years of saving every penny from his plumbing jobs, he and Daisy bought their own house in the suburbs. And for a price way below market value.
The place wasn’t fancy, but it was spacious, with a backyard Daisy was already imagining full of flowers.
Lily, their fifteen-year-old daughter, ran upstairs to check out her room and came bounding back down yelling: “Oh my God, Dad! Finally a place to hide my stuff without you snooping!”
Daisy laughed, hugging the girl. “It’s going to be great, sweetie. I can already see us having barbecues in the backyard every weekend.”
Luigi gave a weak smile, carrying a heavy box down the hallway. “I can’t believe they sold it to us this cheap. I just hope there aren’t any nasty surprises,” he muttered, mostly to himself.
But the surprise came early.
The hallway rug suddenly shot out from under him like someone had yanked it hard. Luigi slipped backward, arms windmilling.
The heavy box flew up—and came crashing straight down onto his testicles.
He crumpled to the floor, letting out a high-pitched yelp that rang through the whole house, hands flying to his crotch in pure agony.
Daisy and Lily came running, took one look, and lost it—bursting into hysterics.
“How on earth did you hurt yourself like that, babe?” Daisy asked, struggling to hold back giggles.
“The rug… it just slid forward out of nowhere. I don’t know,” Luigi said, still on the floor, in pain and confused.
“What, the rug’s alive now?” Lily mocked, arms crossed.
“Yeah… must’ve just been my clumsiness,” he grumbled, slowly getting up.
Later, in the living room, Luigi was vacuuming the sofa.
The cord, which had been perfectly straight, suddenly wrapped around his ankle as if it had a mind of its own, tripping him and sending him crashing backward.
At that exact moment, a thick book tumbled from the highest shelf and hit—once again—right where it hurt most.
He already thought the first accident was strange, but this one felt even more deliberate.
“This doesn’t make sense… the cord wasn’t like that,” Luigi groaned from the floor, his voice tight and breathless.
Daisy and Lily, who were unpacking boxes nearby, peeked over the sofa and immediately burst into a fresh fit of giggles.
“That’s what you get for being a total klutz, Dad,” Lily teased.
“I have a feeling this house is haunted,” he confessed, looking at the two of them—only to be met with scorn and dismissal.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Luigi,” Daisy warned, rolling her eyes. “It was just another unlucky accident.”
Lily laughed. “Oh sure, Dad. We’re living with ghosts who love playing with your balls!” she said sarcastically.
But the worst was still coming.
That night, when he went to the bathroom, Luigi didn’t turn on the light so he wouldn’t wake anyone. He knew the route. He knew where the walls and the doors were.
What he didn’t know was that something was waiting for him.
Right before he reached for the bathroom light switch, something struck him with brutal force. A hard, pinpoint strike nailed him square in the jewels.
He dropped to his knees by the sink, gasping, hands cradling his aching genitals.
Daisy and Lily stumbled in sleepy-eyed, flicked on the light, and found him curled up fetal—again.
“Again? Seriously?” Daisy snorted. “You can’t even go to the bathroom without hurting your balls?”
As they helped him up, Luigi could only express pain and confusion.
“I don’t know what happened, something hit me. I swear.”
“You probably just clumsily smashed your nuts on the sink corner,” Lily said, cracking up at her own dad.
But Luigi knew the pain was far too intense and precise for that. He was convinced something was stalking him—and targeting that spot on purpose.
Over the following days, the bizarre accidents continued, every single one aimed squarely at his testicles.
The final straw came one morning at breakfast.
Luigi opened the kitchen drawer to grab a spoon. He closed it normally. In the next second, the drawer shot out on its own—with force—slamming directly into his genitals. The impact was so violent he nearly fell backward, groaning loudly, limping back to the table with his hands pressed to his groin.
Daisy, who was pouring juice, couldn’t hold it.
“Damn, honey—your junk’s like a disaster magnet or something.”
Lily, munching on a bowl of cereal, couldn’t contain her laughter.
“Maybe the house is just trying to teach you a lesson, Dad,” she said, giggling. “You know, for all those times you embarrassed me in front of my friends.”
Luigi didn’t respond right away. He sat down slowly, face pale, eyes staring into nothing. The pain was becoming constant, the humiliation worsening, and the certainty growing: there was something in this house that had chosen him specifically, and it enjoyed every second.
“I’m going to find out what’s going on,” he declared, voice hoarse with pain and anger. “There’s something supernatural in this house. And it’s after me.”
This time, no one laughed. At least not out loud.
He was going to investigate. He was determined to uncover the truth.