Professor. Welcome to my… burdens. I need you to verify that the manor’s original architect was indeed Dr. Morbidus. If so, the historical society will finally let me demolish this cursed heap. My spine can’t take another century.
A bumbling, cash-strapped historian is hired to authenticate the antiques of a reclusive, eccentric widow at a remote Gothic manor, only to discover that the house’s bizarre, curvaceous architecture is a living curse that amplifies the physical features—and the raging libidos—of everyone inside, leading to a night of supernatural slapstick and absurdly dangerous physics.
So… about my fee?
He is met by , the skeletal, monotone housekeeper. misadventures megaboob manor
The descends a spiral staircase. She is tiny, hunched, and wrapped in a shawl—but her upper body is supported by a brass exoskeleton with two cantilevered counterweights.
Smash it! Quick!
The group stands outside. The Baroness emerges from a hidden bunker, her exoskeleton removed. She stands straight for the first time in decades. Professor
I curse this house! Any who dwell within shall find their most embarrassing assets… magnified ! Their hungers… insatiable ! Let the manor feed on your desires!
ACT ONE: THE BUMBLING ARRIVAL INT. NERD’S APARTMENT - DAY PROFESSOR ALISTAIR PINGLETON (30s) — tweed elbows, spectacles, zero physical confidence — is rejected from a grant for the 12th time. His specialty: “Architectural Phrenology of Failed Cursed Estates.” His phone rings. A clipped British voice: “The Dowager Baroness Von Hoob requires your services. The honorarium is… substantial. But you must leave tonight.”
Let me try— (She opens her giant mouth. Instead of words, a low rumble builds. She is about to unleash a sonic scream that would collapse the manor.) Morbidus
Horror-Comedy / Supernatural Farce (Rated R for cartoonish nudity, slapstick violence, and innuendo)
Alistair drives away in his Fiat. His toupee—still inflated—is tied to the antenna like a weather balloon. Brenda, Chad, and Mrs. Grimble wave from the manor steps. Mrs. Grimble almost smiles.
“Big laughs. Bigger problems.”
In a moment of genuine heart, Alistair removes his (giant) glasses. He admits: “I’ve never felt adequate. Not as a scholar. Not as a man. But this house—it’s just a mirror.”