It started with a nightmare. John had heard the stories about his wife's ancestors - of their struggles with the ghoulish Mr. Tub - but that was just a myth, wasn't it? Perhaps, but not for John. Not after the nightmare.
John put his hair into a bandanna and prayed unto Foamy but it was no use. Even the Lord and Master could not help him be free of the nightmares and of the struggles he faced every time he went into the bathroom. Even worse, nobody else in the house believed there was anything wrong. He had to face the aquatic demon alone.
Especially where his son was concerned. Red adored the water. All these Mr. Tub stories were nonsense. Red practiced his scuba diving religiously and he never had a problem. He was very much like his ancestor Andrew where the water was concerned. Father and son had many debates over this issue.
At least, until Red came home and found his father's treasured bandanna in a sodden mess of water and blood in the tub. John's body was later found at the bottom of the local pool. The cops concluded it was just 'one of those things' but rage and a desire for revenge found purchase in Red's heart.
Having no fear of the water himself Red dove to the farthest depths and communed with the sons of Neptune; seeking an answer to the question that drove him.
Nobody knows how it got started. Robert was sure it had something to do with those strange lights in the sky. They'd come for him before but nothing had come of it. When they came for his cousin Bobby, he hadn't worried.
Over the summer and fall things had been normal but with the first snowfall Bobby began to act oddly. It had started with a four-hour tirade about spyware on his - ahem - favourite - ahem - websites. Add to that the nightmares and belief that his hands were out to strangle him... something was wrong.
Bobby willingly started therapy but he could not explain why he was behaving this way. The therapist suggested he create snowmen to tell his story. His third snowman told the tale.
Now that the cause was known, the family had to deal with the effect. The nightmares intensified and Bobby spent most nights trying to keep his left hand from going out of control.
By day... well... let's just say he was pretty close to going postal.