The challenge was issued.

And now, the prankster in life and death fired the first proverbial shot.

Snickering to himself, Andrew drifted about the streets doing very random, very harmless, very hilarious things. And his first "victim" just happened to be griping about needing to cool off. He timed it carefully.

Andrew provided just enough of a ghostly twinge to guide the snarking man where he needed to go. A little left. A little forward. A little right. Perfect. How perfect.

"Ow! Wot tha?!"

"Just your friendly ectoplasmic shower."

It was a shower all right even if it was just water and not ectoplasmic goo. The gent in need of a cooling-off hadn't quite noticed — this may be Rhy'Din but talking to ghosts isn't on the list of common things for him — but he'd been "suggested" to stand near the washdown area. Andrew just grinned as his victim got a confused face.

Andrew cackled outright when said victim got thoroughly doused in refreshing water. The water wasn't pristine but it wasn't overly dirty either. Just enough to get the gent first smiling at being cooled off and then yelling between laughs.

"I'll getcha' fer this, you....you....you....!"

"Passed-Away Prankster, that's me."

And so, this war of laughter began with an almost-dirty shower at the docks and a spectre that was beginning to have the time of his afterlife.

Andrew hadn't missed the purple tongues. Honestly, he loved it, really loved it. Genius! Pure genius. The ghost drifted about and thought. He was getting inspired — he could feel it. He just had to figure out what that inspiration was going to be, that's all. So Andrew Tingle O'Connell drifted onward, snickering to himself and inwardly applauding the Genius of Purple Tongues.

At length, Andrew came upon two squabbling young men. hat they were so incensed at each other about, Andrew didn't know nor care. It was his duty to break up the fight and turn it into laughter, if he could. So Andrew hung back and thought. And listened. "Oh, Colten, shut up! You knew that hat was a bad idea!"

It was that line alone that gave Andrew the inspiration he needed.

He was a ghost and ghosts could do such wonderful mischief.

Andrew drifted forward and waited for the proper moment. Then, when the one named Colten turned his head to look at some passing thing, the Prince of Pranks flitted like some gust of wind to send that hat flying. It wasn't even a nice hat either — gaudy, full of feathers and fake jewels the size of one's fist. It really wasn't a fashion statement at all. Daresay, the mud puddle that hat landed in was an improvement. Not that said mud would have stained the thing permanently or damaged it truly, but it got the objective Andrew sought.

He drifted off with the sound of angry shouting turning into howls of laughter.

Yes, his job on those two dour gents was done and done well.

Andrew was happy. Since All Hallow's Night, he'd gotten some interesting ideas for his war-of-laughter. Hallow's Night was his night being that he was dead and all that. So now, his repayment to the Living was coming in the form of laughter. Slapstick laughter, play-laughter, embarrassed yet positive laughter.

He thought back to the white gloves.

Andrew gave a nod to his beloved and went like a shot to the Red Dragon Inn. He saw the gloves and picked them up with a delicate touch. Ah, so soft. Isis... He heard laughter then.

Andrew placed the white-lace gloves in a pocket on his ghostly coveralls and drifted off again. Along the way, he spotted a small troop of costumed children and grinned. "OoooooooooOOOOOOOOoooo!" Andrew pulled his most mundane "scare" intentionally badly. So badly in fact, that the children shrieked, then shrieked again with laughter.

"Oooh, a ghostie!"

"Can I have some candy, Ghostie?"

"You wanna scare the sissy girls, Ghostie?"

Andrew had to laugh at that. Oh, he could "scare" all right. But tonight, he'd not scare. He'd only make laughter. Andrew listened to the children squeal and giggle as he pulled a few harmless gags and ghostly tricks. Phasing through things, occasionally giving a tug at a ponytail — nothing too much. These were children and things had to be kept somewhat tame. Still, it served its purpose and produced fits of laughter and as a finale, a small shower of pocket sweets.

When the children's chaperone signaled for them to move on, Andrew bid farewell and moved on as well. He smiled as he heard children play silly pranks on each other. All Hallow's Night was a night of trickery indeed.

Andrew was desperate, as desperate as a Prince of Pranks can get anyway.

Not a soul living, dead or undead seemed to challenge him. Some were amused to be sure but none had come forward. Maybe they didn't take him seriously?

He'd just have to remedy that quick, fast and in a hurry.

Drifting to the nearest cemetery, Andrew began to call up an army like Rhy'Din has perhaps seen before except that all of these "soldiers" were very, very dead. And very very eager to pull the best prank on this dismal city in history! "Denizens, Denizens o' the dead! I, Andrew Tingle O'Connell call upon y'now! This city we lived and died in, it grows dismal and more by th' day! Denizens, rise wi' me!"

He was thankful for this section of the graveyard — it always tended on the more peaceful side of things than the creepy, dark or scary. It was still a place of mourning but that was all right. The rest of this city wouldn't be crying for much longer. At least for a while. One by one, the ghosts, ghouls, phantoms, spectres and even the odd mild poltergeist joined the Prince's army of pranksters. Men, women, children, aged and anything in between hovered before their "commander" and grinned in anticipation of making this city laugh until it fell to its knees.

Yes, it would indeed be a glorious — and best of all, harmless — conquest.

————————————-

High noon lit Rhy'Din in a bright sunlight and it was high noon when a ghostly army of thousands drifted into the city limits. Thousands of ghostly folk determined to brighten Rhy'Din up with laughter and see it shine with joy instead of reflecting crimson shadows and tears.

Ghostly children were the first wave of this beginning attack. They floated about and started off with mall things like shifting into inanely funny little shapes or pulling old tricks such as the handshake-buzzer. A few had even gotten bold enough to band together, procure some pies and wreak cream-pie havoc in places that wouldn't be damaged by said cream pies. Just a rinsing down and buildings, clothing and the like would be good as new. What might hopefully change for a longer period, would be the demeanour of the people in Rhy'Din.

The first wave of the War of Laughter was proving to be just that. And these that had joined Andrew's ranks became as determined as he was to see this city happy for at least a time.

The ghosts were performing beautifully.

Andrew watched for a while from the rear ranks as each wave of spectral fun was unleashed upon the city and its people. The time for this War of Laughter however, was drawing to a close and he wanted this one to go out with a bang. A friendly bang, but a bang nonetheless.

"T'me, Brethren! To me!"

The Prince of Pranks called with all of his ghostly breath for his comrades to return. It was time for the final blow upon the sadness of the city.

One by one, the ghosts retreated. And along the way, the kindly made sure that only laughter and no detritus was left in their wake. They assembled at the docks in neat rows and were it not for the lack of uniforms and their intent, they might have been seriously taken as some honest-to-gods army sent from the Hereafter on some horrendous mission of war. The other kind of war. Andrew hovered proudly before the great throng of spirits and cried out victoriously. "Denizens! Brethren! Ye done well this round, now let us go out this year wi' a blazin' peal of laughter!"

One spirit in the back became perplexed and voices her wonder.

"This year, Andrew?"

Andrew only laughed and allowed the merry twinkle in his ghostly eyes to show itself in the Rhy'Dinian moonlight.

"Aye, m'dear Adeline! I sha' turn this War of Laughter int' an event Rhy'Din shall see upon ev'ry year! Ev'ry heraldin' of th' cold winters, I shall bring laughter to this dismal, tragic town!"

Andrew Tingle O'Connell almost cried as he heard the great roar of approval erupt from the throngs of lives that had shed their mortal coils. Passing on to the hereafter wasn't for them. Staying and wreaking friendly havoc was a perfect purpose for their spectral selves.

"Brethren! Let us conclude this War with a laugh that shall ring through Rhy'Din for years t'come!"

——————————-

The docks of Rhy'Din still echoed with the sound of laughter as thousands of ghosts drifted through Rhy'Din in their final effort of the year to have the city laughing so hard it fell to its knees. One spirit slipped into the Governor's office and left a note on the desk:

Governor

We denizens of the dead laugh in the face of death, laugh in the spirit of life and invite you to join in our humble ranks to for once every year make Rhy'Din laugh so hard it falls to its knees. And we leave you a bit of catnip.

—Unsigned

True to his word, the anonymous spectre left alongside the note a small bag of catnip. Joining his compatriots again, the ghostly throng paraded through the city and sang as loudly as their voices would allow and as merrily as being dead permitted.

"*We are lumberjacks, and we're okay. We sleep all night and we work all day.

We cuts down trees, we eats our lunch. We goes to the lavatory. On Wednesdays we go shopping And have buttered scones for tea.

We are lumberjacks, and we're okay. We sleep all night and we work all day.

We cut down trees, we skip and jump. We like to press wild flowers. We put on women's clothing And hang around in bars.

We cut down trees. We skip and jump. We like to press wild flowers. We put on women's clothing And hang around in bars

We are lumberjacks, and we're okay. We sleep all night and we work all day.

We cut down trees, we wear high heels, Suspendies, and a br-ar. We wish we'd been a girlie, Just like our dear Papar!

We are lumberjacks, and we're okay. We sleep all night and we work all day!"

They sang as they drifted through the streets the song Andrew led. It didn't matter that most of them were not in fact, lumberjacks. The song itself and how they sang it was the important part. Their goal was to make Rhy'Din itself fall to its knees in laughter. So that is what the denizens of the dead did, led by Andrew Tingle O'Connell, the Prince of Pranks as their voices faded out into the distance.

They died laughing and enjoyed every minute of it all the while anticipating next year's challenge.

~~~~~~~~~~~

*The Lumberjack Song