Chapter Text
#2011#
We're all mad. That has to be it, fo' sure. I literally dunno what possessed me or my pookies to want to go back to Waco but here we are. There weren't any Red Stores anywhere but, hey, it's better than Death Valley. I wonder if Ethel Cain exists yet...
"Oh my lard, it's that house!" Desiree (s)creamed aloud as a familiar haunted location frequently mentioned on the Dark Web equivalents of Etsy and Craigslist pulled up right in front of us, almost like it moved on its own. (It did, we're just not supposed to read the un-highlighted parts of the series' "script".) We've all heard at least some juicy gossip girls' stories about this house, like only (heads or tails to roll either 2d8 or 3d4 reverse-respectively) so far. But come on, it's the perfect way to build up our (and especially my) clout! Just remember to only spread words kids, not legs. Anyways-
"JESUS WEPT WHITE, THAT THING'S FUCKING HUGE!!! Wanna film the two lobby levels?" I questionably questioned and noted at the same questionably questionable time. With a rather wordless agreement, we sashayed to the house on the left of us and found... EW, a skanky old man?! Gross!
#1995#
Too much cases have gone either cold or under, and as any form of problem-solver knows, that can be nothing but negatively detrimental. Not only that, even the interns were being depicted as mindless cogs in the machine by the author of this absurdist liminal horror-dramedy mess we're in a volume or two of. Ugh, anyways- it was a glum AF early Weeknd as usual. The phone rang, and I swear its lithe black form flickered blue once I held it to my ear. "Rosebud" was all I had heard on the other end, but surely it wasn't actually a specter, right?
I decided upon heading straight to me and Dale's abode (we only recently moved into a quaint little treehole) and used my Honda Unspecivic TM to pass by mid-hood shortcuts I could easily peruse. A certain prisoner's melancholic hootin' and hollerin' was getting pretty irritating to say the least, and he won't let up with trying to somehow solve a cold case that he has fursonal ties to. And now we shall jump cut 340 minutes later because traffic's a bitch!
"Honey, I'm home!" But there was no answer ye-
I was promptly tackled with lust and groceries as soon as I had been no longer than (roll 1d20) seconds in the treehole. Me and Dale had been rather caught up in the Rescue Ranger business self-founded by our homie Gadget Hackwrench's parents to say the least, like, the last time we 'lived it up' together was three months ago in the back of a commercial blimp which left quite the funk as reporters who later used it for more wholesome educational activities would put it, but that didn't mean we weren't at least still housemates. Wait, why would Dale not have put away the groceries fur the solstice if it's so late at night...? Anyways-
"UFF!! Day, one of these times you'll be the death of me!" I chuckled out feverishly whilst also regaining my breath.
"Yeah, yeah, now c'mon Chippie! Once all the ~nuts~ fur the season are stored away safely, would you be up fur Nintendo & Chill?" he sensually mused, much to our professional detriment.
"IF there isn't too much paperwork to be (sheepishly) sorted out, maybe."
"Dude, my Rudolphian nose is DYING fur that veiny ahh dealio ya have, goob-"
"Okay, okay, don't spoil too much fur the readers!" And with that final piece of dialogue fur now from me, Dale giddily ushered me to help put away the peabut nutter, some cans of Whup-Ass!(TM) that were clearly on sale given the price tags, and spare knapsacks fur the kids.
*w*
I arose to my senses suspiciously after recovering from yet another fever dream. But something riled up the oxygen in the room around me- I awoke once more, even moreso sweating enough bullets fur a new James Pond film. What the fuck? I reach fur my fleshlight so I can illuminate the room but instead roll merrily enough down a ridiculous ramp into a basement, the fashion of which smoother than Uncle Don ever could dream of being when trying to pick up over-aged chicks. (He likes what he likes and that's elder women, I guess. At least it's still much better than children.)
#1979#
Okay, I pull up [*beat*] right to the afterparty... but there's no one else there in sight and all I hear is some maybe perverted pursuit of happiness upstairs. Being the horror media character I wasn't originally planned to be, I gingerly cowabunga'd my way to a likely demise with a brisk iced "Hewwo?" but was rather delighted that all I heard was the over-commercialized 'peer exploration' two or three floors away. The rippling that I had now been about to more conspicuously intrude upon was indeed tantalizing, and I had to admit I was jealous of the woman in the scenario before me. I don't know why, but I let another hour of it pass until the man and woman had finished were now instead just snuggling(?), not preparing myself to be caught unawares.
She had long, oceanic dark brown hair that looked like it could keep shifting between side- and mid-part anytime it wished as well as cherry gloss (and what seemed to be blue jorts and a tank-top whiter than her on the floor), whilst he had pineappley dreads and a mall goth vibe judging by his own supposed garments strewn about the floor and around the glass table the pair had ruefully smudged the surface of. Rex, how I wished it was me between the seasoned vein-throb and the see-through furniture... The two humans seemed to be good friends (as if doing each other was akin to a pawshake) and started moving from slapping pelts to rolling felts, accompanied by raucous laughter and the occasional cremation joke. Oddly fitting if ya ask me.
I ventured further upstairs fur once in my 19 years of professional existence wherein I tripped over nothing while on the rotary dial stairs and was met with the floorboards of ...an attic? I looked up and all I saw was attic and balloons. It took me (roll 4d12) moments and starting to audibly panic until I finally found a window that led to the outside- but 'twas locked. And yes, we're getting interactive with ts. Anyways-
"HEEEEEELLLLLLLLPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!! SSSOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEBBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDDYYYYYYYYYYYYYY PPPPPPPLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEAAAAAASSSEEEEEEEEEEEEEE FFFFUCCCCCCCCCCKIIIIIIIIINNNNGGGGGGGGGGG HHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPP MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
I had now begun frantically banging against the windowpane (as the man and woman had against the glass table just earlier) fur I saw the friends chillin outside smoking joints along with various pedestrians, but seemingly only the pair had at least heard the knocking on the looking glass. I struggled with the possibly unbreakable contraption for so long that I almost had to use the strings of the balloons as collateral bandaging fur my paws and face due to the amount of pressure I had been applying with them just trying to break free...
*w*
Outside I had heard (s)creaming amongst the snowfall, and being the narrator of my initial canon lore, I just HAD to check it out!