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Tofu Cute Blog
Quentin & The Cursed Hat: A Tofu Cute Halloween Story
Quentin & The Cursed Hat: A Tofu Cute Halloween Story
22nd October 2021 • by Adam
22nd October 2021 • A Spooky Halloween Story. • by Adam
A Spooky Halloween Story.
Hello everyone, and welcome back to the Tofu Cute Blog. Halloween is fast approaching, I’m sure you’re already making exciting plans. We recently got some spooky DIY cake kits, so if you’re looking for something to spice up your Halloween, you could always start there! If not, our huge range of Japanese candy will likely contain something that you might be able to enjoy during your spooky celebrations. If food isn't your thing, I'm sure you'll probably love our new Halloween-y Pokemon Gacha! We're pretty sure these are going to be very popular, so you might want to get on it quickly!

As a special treat for you Tofu Cute blog readers, I thought I would share with you all a scary story that I recently uncovered. Something to read whilst you eat your pocky beside a warm winter’s fireplace, whilst you contemplate if this All Hallow’s Eve will be as good as the last.
Back when Quentin The Sloth was a big Hollywood actor, he sold his likeness to a series of scary short stories. They were very popular back then, but these days, you can find them in just about any charity shop. I recently found this volume - the first of several - ‘the cursed hat’ in my attic. I thought it might be fun to share it with you all. It’s a spooky story starring Quentin the Sloth. What could be better?
____

Deep in the heart of the Slothgate Hinterlands in Hampshire, the ice cream loving, trivia-spouting creature known as Quentin The Sloth lived in relative peace. After retiring from their critically celebrated quiz game show, they intended to live out the rest of their years in their quiet bungalow. Although they were friendly with the local community of sloths and liked to attend craft workshops at their local town centre, Quentin was never really a fan of the ‘hustle and bustle’ of city life, and so had opted to buy a house in the outskirts of Slothgate’s town, right next to the forest, which he had heard the locals (and his estate agent) describe as the ‘Sole Forest in Slothgate’. Quentin loved long (really long) nature walks, so of course he wanted to be right next to the only forest in the region. Little did he know how much that decision would come to change his life.

On a particularly crisp and chilly Sunday evening, Quentin was having one of his usual naps. He had just finished his daily crossword and fell asleep sinking into his recliner chair, whilst old episodes of Countdown played at low volume on his television. As he drifted off into a deep sleep, the sounds of his ticking grandfather clock made their way into his dreams. At first, Quentin had a vision of a big cat - perhaps a Jaguar - made entirely of gears and clockwork. What a frightening sight! It jolted Quentin awake, like lightning had been sent through the centre of his soft body.
As he awoke, he felt a strange sensation creeping over him. An unfamiliar sensation, you could say. His head suddenly felt… lighter? He reached his large clawed hands onto the top of his head. He had already realised the terrifying fate that had come to befall him.

HIS HAT WAS GONE.

Rushing around his bungalow, Quentin frantically searched for his most prized possession: his wonderful top hat. He couldn’t believe his misfortune. How could a quick afternoon nap result in such a tragic loss? It was unfeasible to him at the time, but now the reality of his reality was sinking in. His most beloved hat was gone. Stolen, perhaps.

In his flurry to search for the hat, Quentin soon uncovered a message, presumably left behind by the hat’s captor. Scrawled in a dark red ink, the words ‘YOUR HAT IS DEAD’ had been written on the backside of the door, with the final ‘D’ trailing off in an extended line that reached the very bottom of the door. After examining the gruesome message and processing it for several minutes, he opened the door, revealing the trail of red continuing from his door and into the forest before him. Wherever his hat was taken, the captor was taunting Quentin, and leading him into the forest. As he stepped outside to follow the trail, he noticed the moon was full and the sky was an ominous, dark red.

After a slow but contemplative walk, Quentin finally made it into the forest. He paced forward with cautious steps, unsure of how safe the path before him was going to be. Before long, the slender and bare trees that made up the bulk of the forest were whistling in the wind, as a sharp breeze blew through the main clearing.

Quentin was still following the red trail, when he noticed a strange phenomena occurring. His arms were becoming translucent and grey, as though part of him were becoming ghostly. The affliction soon spread from his arms to his whole body, until you could see entirely through him. Quentin thought perhaps that this was the signal to turn back and put this whole torrid affair to rest. But he also knew he couldn’t give up on his hat. His hat, after all, had never given up on him.

He continued on through the clearing with the wind blowing right through him. His new see-through body had steeled him against the elements as he plodded forwards, until he eventually spotted a small creature in his vicinity, appearing as though he had just teleported there. It had the appearance of a black-furred dog with a small citrus fruit balanced atop his head. The dog sat with grace, as though to not disturb the fruit that was delicately resting on his head.

“How can I help you, Lost Sloth?” A deep voice echoed out from the mysterious dog.
“I’m looking for my hat,” Quentin replied.
The dog turned his head slightly to the left.
“Your hat? I think I have a good idea of what happened,” chortled the mysterious dog.
Quentin looked beyond the mysterious dog to where the dog had turned to direct his gaze. In the distance, an ominous but awe-inspiring orb of glowing white light could be seen. Quentin looked on in silence.
“Your hat has ascended, lost sloth,’ The dog nodded.
Quentin was mighty confused by this statement, but he decided to press onwards towards the light. He wasn’t going to lose his hat today.

As he got closer to the light, it shone with intensity, but he could just about make out the faint outline of a familiar piece of headwear. Was this glowing thing his hat? Much like Quentin himself, it had become translucent and grey. As he inched towards the hat with trepidation, he realized that it was literally ascending - moving higher and higher into the air. At the same time as the hat’s ascent, Quentin also noticed sudden, rapid movements behind the trees that were surrounding him. Did the dog give chase? Or was this another one of the forest’s illusory tricks?
Without hesitation, Quentin ignored the fluttering behind the trees and tried to reach for his hat. But it was no use. The hat kept moving higher and higher, and the sound of movement around him grew closer in proximity. In an instant, a small, round creature jumped from between two trees, directly towards Quentin. With sharp fangs bared, it seemed to be launching itself straight into Quentin in a terrifying technique!

Quentin outstretched his long sloth arms, stopping the creature in mid air. No longer in motion, he was able to identify it - it was his long time rival, Quinn the grey pup. Quinn had several boxes of Pocky strapped to their back and wry smile.

“Quinn, what are you doing here?!” Exclaimed Quentin.
“Well, I was trying to play a devious prank on you, Quentin. But you’ve ruined it now! Happy Halloween I guess,” retorted Quinn, his tiny legs
“What kind of prank was this? Are you the one who stole my hat?”
“You caught me red-handed. Literally, it seems,” Quinn said, outstretching his tiny plush paws to reveal the red paint that had covered them.
“Quinn… you really don’t need to go this far, you know. A quick jump scare would have sufficed.”
“Well as you always say, Quentin: ‘What’s done is done’ and all that.”
“What exactly is happening to my precious hat, Quinn?”
“I’m not really sure. I just dragged it out here to prank you, but then it started looking all ghost-y and flying in the air…”


The hat was now increasing in speed in its ascent. Strange sounds were coming from it, as if the hat itself were speaking in an ancient language. Quentin and Quinn had no idea what to do. In his confusion, Quinn started eating some chocolate pocky.

Within minutes, the mysterious citrus-balancing dog from earlier had returned. They also began flying in the air, until they reached the same height as the ever-ascending ghost-hat. In mid-air, the mysterious dog managed to collide with and catch the hat with their mouth, all whilst continuing to balance the fruit on their head. After their incredible acrobatics, they returned to the ground, landing near Quentin & Quinn who looked ahead with befuddlement.

“You shouldn’t bring objects into the Soul Forest, Sloth.”
Quentin took a second to process that comment. You could see the gears turning in his head. It had been quite the day, so he was a bit slow to recognise what they had meant. When he did finally understand, a wave of relief and bewilderment washed over his face at the same time.

“It’s a Soul Forest? I thought people were saying Sole Forest, like it was the only one in the area. The estate agents kept mentioning the Sole Forest! I didn’t realise they were saying ‘SOUL’. They probably should have written it down!” Yelled Quentin.

“When objects enter the Soul Forest of Slothgate, they become ethereal in form, Sloth. You also became ethereal because of your connection with the hat. That’s what happens in the Soul Forest. The effects won’t last if you simply leave the forest, but maybe you should be more careful, next time.” said the mysterious fruit-balancing dog, taking flight again mid-sentence, leaving Quentin’s prized hat on the ground.

They would indeed choose to be more careful next time. Quentin put his hat back on and together with Quinn returned to his home. They shared the rest of the pocky on the way back, and after a nice snack feast, Quinn left Quentin in peace. They promised to meet up again after Halloween, but Quentin was just happy to have his hat back. As he drifted off to sleep that night, he made sure to hold his hat just a little bit tighter.
Hello everyone, and welcome back to the Tofu Cute Blog. Halloween is fast approaching, I’m sure you’re already making exciting plans. We recently got some spooky DIY cake kits, so if you’re looking for something to spice up your Halloween, you could always start there! If not, our huge range of Japanese candy will likely contain something that you might be able to enjoy during your spooky celebrations. If food isn't your thing, I'm sure you'll probably love our new Halloween-y Pokemon Gacha! We're pretty sure these are going to be very popular, so you might want to get on it quickly!

As a special treat for you Tofu Cute blog readers, I thought I would share with you all a scary story that I recently uncovered. Something to read whilst you eat your pocky beside a warm winter’s fireplace, whilst you contemplate if this All Hallow’s Eve will be as good as the last.
Back when Quentin The Sloth was a big Hollywood actor, he sold his likeness to a series of scary short stories. They were very popular back then, but these days, you can find them in just about any charity shop. I recently found this volume - the first of several - ‘the cursed hat’ in my attic. I thought it might be fun to share it with you all. It’s a spooky story starring Quentin the Sloth. What could be better?
____

Deep in the heart of the Slothgate Hinterlands in Hampshire, the ice cream loving, trivia-spouting creature known as Quentin The Sloth lived in relative peace. After retiring from their critically celebrated quiz game show, they intended to live out the rest of their years in their quiet bungalow. Although they were friendly with the local community of sloths and liked to attend craft workshops at their local town centre, Quentin was never really a fan of the ‘hustle and bustle’ of city life, and so had opted to buy a house in the outskirts of Slothgate’s town, right next to the forest, which he had heard the locals (and his estate agent) describe as the ‘Sole Forest in Slothgate’. Quentin loved long (really long) nature walks, so of course he wanted to be right next to the only forest in the region. Little did he know how much that decision would come to change his life.

On a particularly crisp and chilly Sunday evening, Quentin was having one of his usual naps. He had just finished his daily crossword and fell asleep sinking into his recliner chair, whilst old episodes of Countdown played at low volume on his television. As he drifted off into a deep sleep, the sounds of his ticking grandfather clock made their way into his dreams. At first, Quentin had a vision of a big cat - perhaps a Jaguar - made entirely of gears and clockwork. What a frightening sight! It jolted Quentin awake, like lightning had been sent through the centre of his soft body.
As he awoke, he felt a strange sensation creeping over him. An unfamiliar sensation, you could say. His head suddenly felt… lighter? He reached his large clawed hands onto the top of his head. He had already realised the terrifying fate that had come to befall him.

HIS HAT WAS GONE.

Rushing around his bungalow, Quentin frantically searched for his most prized possession: his wonderful top hat. He couldn’t believe his misfortune. How could a quick afternoon nap result in such a tragic loss? It was unfeasible to him at the time, but now the reality of his reality was sinking in. His most beloved hat was gone. Stolen, perhaps.

In his flurry to search for the hat, Quentin soon uncovered a message, presumably left behind by the hat’s captor. Scrawled in a dark red ink, the words ‘YOUR HAT IS DEAD’ had been written on the backside of the door, with the final ‘D’ trailing off in an extended line that reached the very bottom of the door. After examining the gruesome message and processing it for several minutes, he opened the door, revealing the trail of red continuing from his door and into the forest before him. Wherever his hat was taken, the captor was taunting Quentin, and leading him into the forest. As he stepped outside to follow the trail, he noticed the moon was full and the sky was an ominous, dark red.

After a slow but contemplative walk, Quentin finally made it into the forest. He paced forward with cautious steps, unsure of how safe the path before him was going to be. Before long, the slender and bare trees that made up the bulk of the forest were whistling in the wind, as a sharp breeze blew through the main clearing.

Quentin was still following the red trail, when he noticed a strange phenomena occurring. His arms were becoming translucent and grey, as though part of him were becoming ghostly. The affliction soon spread from his arms to his whole body, until you could see entirely through him. Quentin thought perhaps that this was the signal to turn back and put this whole torrid affair to rest. But he also knew he couldn’t give up on his hat. His hat, after all, had never given up on him.

He continued on through the clearing with the wind blowing right through him. His new see-through body had steeled him against the elements as he plodded forwards, until he eventually spotted a small creature in his vicinity, appearing as though he had just teleported there. It had the appearance of a black-furred dog with a small citrus fruit balanced atop his head. The dog sat with grace, as though to not disturb the fruit that was delicately resting on his head.

“How can I help you, Lost Sloth?” A deep voice echoed out from the mysterious dog.
“I’m looking for my hat,” Quentin replied.
The dog turned his head slightly to the left.
“Your hat? I think I have a good idea of what happened,” chortled the mysterious dog.
Quentin looked beyond the mysterious dog to where the dog had turned to direct his gaze. In the distance, an ominous but awe-inspiring orb of glowing white light could be seen. Quentin looked on in silence.
“Your hat has ascended, lost sloth,’ The dog nodded.
Quentin was mighty confused by this statement, but he decided to press onwards towards the light. He wasn’t going to lose his hat today.

As he got closer to the light, it shone with intensity, but he could just about make out the faint outline of a familiar piece of headwear. Was this glowing thing his hat? Much like Quentin himself, it had become translucent and grey. As he inched towards the hat with trepidation, he realized that it was literally ascending - moving higher and higher into the air. At the same time as the hat’s ascent, Quentin also noticed sudden, rapid movements behind the trees that were surrounding him. Did the dog give chase? Or was this another one of the forest’s illusory tricks?
Without hesitation, Quentin ignored the fluttering behind the trees and tried to reach for his hat. But it was no use. The hat kept moving higher and higher, and the sound of movement around him grew closer in proximity. In an instant, a small, round creature jumped from between two trees, directly towards Quentin. With sharp fangs bared, it seemed to be launching itself straight into Quentin in a terrifying technique!

Quentin outstretched his long sloth arms, stopping the creature in mid air. No longer in motion, he was able to identify it - it was his long time rival, Quinn the grey pup. Quinn had several boxes of Pocky strapped to their back and wry smile.

“Quinn, what are you doing here?!” Exclaimed Quentin.
“Well, I was trying to play a devious prank on you, Quentin. But you’ve ruined it now! Happy Halloween I guess,” retorted Quinn, his tiny legs
“What kind of prank was this? Are you the one who stole my hat?”
“You caught me red-handed. Literally, it seems,” Quinn said, outstretching his tiny plush paws to reveal the red paint that had covered them.
“Quinn… you really don’t need to go this far, you know. A quick jump scare would have sufficed.”
“Well as you always say, Quentin: ‘What’s done is done’ and all that.”
“What exactly is happening to my precious hat, Quinn?”
“I’m not really sure. I just dragged it out here to prank you, but then it started looking all ghost-y and flying in the air…”


The hat was now increasing in speed in its ascent. Strange sounds were coming from it, as if the hat itself were speaking in an ancient language. Quentin and Quinn had no idea what to do. In his confusion, Quinn started eating some chocolate pocky.

Within minutes, the mysterious citrus-balancing dog from earlier had returned. They also began flying in the air, until they reached the same height as the ever-ascending ghost-hat. In mid-air, the mysterious dog managed to collide with and catch the hat with their mouth, all whilst continuing to balance the fruit on their head. After their incredible acrobatics, they returned to the ground, landing near Quentin & Quinn who looked ahead with befuddlement.

“You shouldn’t bring objects into the Soul Forest, Sloth.”
Quentin took a second to process that comment. You could see the gears turning in his head. It had been quite the day, so he was a bit slow to recognise what they had meant. When he did finally understand, a wave of relief and bewilderment washed over his face at the same time.

“It’s a Soul Forest? I thought people were saying Sole Forest, like it was the only one in the area. The estate agents kept mentioning the Sole Forest! I didn’t realise they were saying ‘SOUL’. They probably should have written it down!” Yelled Quentin.

“When objects enter the Soul Forest of Slothgate, they become ethereal in form, Sloth. You also became ethereal because of your connection with the hat. That’s what happens in the Soul Forest. The effects won’t last if you simply leave the forest, but maybe you should be more careful, next time.” said the mysterious fruit-balancing dog, taking flight again mid-sentence, leaving Quentin’s prized hat on the ground.

They would indeed choose to be more careful next time. Quentin put his hat back on and together with Quinn returned to his home. They shared the rest of the pocky on the way back, and after a nice snack feast, Quinn left Quentin in peace. They promised to meet up again after Halloween, but Quentin was just happy to have his hat back. As he drifted off to sleep that night, he made sure to hold his hat just a little bit tighter.
About the Author: Adam
Adam is the lead writer of the Tofu Cute Blog and Wordsmith person at Team Tofu. When he's not making fun content for Tofu Cute, he enjoys being a huge nerd. He spends his free time gaming, reading, cooking and figuring out ways to make Godzilla and other giant monsters real.
About the Author: Adam
Adam is the lead writer of the Tofu Cute Blog and Wordsmith person at Team Tofu. When he's not making fun content for Tofu Cute, he enjoys being a huge nerd. He spends his free time gaming, reading, cooking and figuring out ways to make Godzilla and other giant monsters real.
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