Post Million Dollar Ghost, but before or without Phantom Planet.

Based upon Apricity #111 Art. When I first got the idea, I thought it was hilarious but wouldn't happen in a million years. Then, I decided I wanted to write it the way it might play out if something like this did happen because I'd become quite fond of the idea. But it's really, I dunno, kinda bizarre, even for Amity Park. XD Then again, where else on earth could something like this happen?

Abstract

November 7, 2013

Amity Park was a nice city that had a big problem with property damage.

Reconstruction was always getting more expensive as prices continued rising in this economy and the companies able to help them soon realized that the gig was steady and they didn't have to worry about placing a low enough bid because the city needed to employ anyone who came their way, no matter what the asking price was.

They couldn't afford to let the town disintegrate piece by piece and leave the carcasses of office buildings to crumble in the streets. But they also couldn't afford the high price tags that came along with the destruction.

And unfortunately, the damage was a constant plague of the town, thanks to the practically routine ghost fights that left no casualties but destroyed a new city block nearly every week.

City officials were left pulling out their hair wondering what to do. They could only support allocating so much of their budget toward rebuilding before they faced bankruptcy or hiking up taxes so high that the population (already looking for an excuse to move out of the town since apparently the fact that it was haunted by spirits wasn't enough) would simply abandon ship and leave the place to become a ghost town in possibly more than one sense of the word.

So they were left to debate their rapidly dwindling options. What could they do to fix this problem? How could they raise enough funds to keep going at this rate?

They tried offering a huge reward to get rid of the ghosts plaguing the town. A million dollars to capture the biggest thorn in their side and then maybe, just maybe, the rest of the ghosts would disperse without Phantom goading them on into attacking all the time.

It was worth a shot, anyway. But no one was really surprised when it didn't work out as they had hoped and the supernatural activity in the town showed no signs of stopping or even slowing.

Which meant that they were back to square one trying to figure out how to deal with the costs of maintaining their ghost-plagued city.

They finally became desperate enough to open up a suggestions box for civically minded citizens to help brainstorm ideas for fixing this mess.

That was when someone stepped forward with a really brilliant idea. One of those outside-the-box deals that no one in public office would ever have come up with, and most of them laughed at when it was first discussed, but one that somehow made a bizarre sort of sense and might actually work to alleviate the lack of cash flow where it was desperately needed.

A Samantha Manson had suggested that they might sell pieces of the demolished debris in as a sort of charity fundraiser. The committee reviewing the suggestion almost dismissed it then and there because who would want to buy a piece of haggard concrete that had been blasted by a ghost?

But then of course, the answer hit them in the face. A great many people would pay for the novelty of buying a scrap of a building that was damaged during a documented haunting. Plenty of people paid to visit houses and gravesites that were supposedly haunted, didn't they? Wouldn't they pay even more to have a little piece of a haunted city brought to their doorstep by FedEx?

They could easily whip up official looking cards that marked any number of broken pieces of their town as city-sanctioned pieces of Amity Park debris (Enjoy your own bit of the most haunted city in the country! Thank you for supporting us and if you'd like to donate to the rebuilding of AP fund…). Then, after setting up a website for the project, they were able to start making sales and, after reaching through the right channels (and asking the Fentons to talk to their various and sundry contacts), they began to make some profit. Not enough to pay for the damage, but enough to take the edge of urgency off the situation.

Although it was nice having a start on the deficit, further solution was preferable to still lacking most of the money they needed.

So the committee listened with rapt attention to Ms. Manson's next suggestion.

What if, she said, they tried to sell more debris (that really was a clever idea, cleaning up while making money off of the flotsam and jetsam that they would otherwise be paying to have cleared away)… as abstract art?

Find some pieces scorched on one side or a twisted pipe still clinging to the cement around it and you would have an abstract urban collection on your hands. Get it promoted by the right people and everyone would gather to get their hands on parts of it first.

Plus, abstract art always sold at ridiculously high prices (especially compared to novelty bits of what was still advertised as rubble) and in this day and age, who could argue that a sooty hand print on half a brick wasn't art?

The plan was foolproof, given that the Manson family actually turned out to be wealthy and well connected in the fashionable sociable circles of the country. They began to spread the word of the new edgy collection and a city-sponsored gallery opened up on the least-likely-to-have-a-ghost-flung-through-the-win dow side of town.

Major art dealers and collectors began to visit or inquire into the series.

A scout from the Art Institute of Chicago's Modern Art wing came by and, while laughing about the idea of ghosts, applauded the communal mindset of the collection's anonymous artist (going under the pseudonym Danny Phantom and it was Ms. Manson's idea) who ensured that all the proceeds went to the city's repair fund.

She eyed the gallery with a practiced eye and said that there was probably something she could do to arrange a visiting collection at the museum. That would garner a lot more attention and critical acclaim which would, in turn, start bringing in even more revenue.

Enough, perhaps to cover the costs of keeping Amity Park going.