Fs sleepover 2
4
0It started with a completely normal, completely reasonable decision:
βletβs just do a quick sleepover, nothing weird.β
That was the last intelligent sentence anyone said.
The house itself was fine at firstβgeneric, slightly too clean, the kind of place that feels staged, like itβs waiting for something to go wrong but hasnβt decided what yet. Seven people showed up. Then eight. Thenβ¦ eight again.
βwait whoβs the second eightβ
βNo idea but they got here before meβ
βthatβs not comfortingβ
Shoes got kicked off, snacks got dumped onto the table, someone immediately claimed the best spot on the couch like it was a competitive sport.
βdonβt touch my blanketβ
βitβs not your blanketβ
βit is nowβ
Everything felt normal.
Too normal.
Suspiciously normal.
Then someone tried to count how many people were there.
βokay hold onβ1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8ββ
Pause.
ββ¦9?β
βwe invited 7.β
βyeah but I brought a friendβ
βwhich oneβ
ββ¦good questionβ
Everyone looked around.
Nobody looked out of place.
Which was exactly the problem.
βokay whatever, itβs fineβ
βyeah itβs fineβ
βitβs probably fineβ
It was not fine.
The first sign was the pizza.
There were supposed to be two boxes.
There were now three.
No one had ordered a third.
No receipt. No knock. No delivery.
Just⦠there.
βoh sick more foodβ
βdonβt eat thatβ
βwhy notβ
βbecause it wasnβt here beforeβ
βyeah but itβs here nowβ
That was apparently a good enough argument, because someone opened it.
Inside: perfectly normal slices.
Except every slice had already been bitten once.
Not a big bite.
Just enough to be rude.
ββ¦nopeβ
βabsolutely notβ
βwho pre-bit the pizzaβ
βI feel disrespectedβ
Someone closed the box slowly, like that would undo the situation.
It didnβt.
Across the room, a sleeping bag unrolled itself.
βdid anyone bring thatβ
βNo.β
βthen why do we have itβ its a nightmare, 1x1x1x1 rages
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