>>5449806Instead of answering your question, your friend instead takes ahold of one of your guinea pigs and brings it to eye level- Madness. As you try to determine his intentions, he just says "This is Madness." You have a bad feeling. Not the ominous kind of bad feeling, just that you know how this is going to end. After allowing tension to build for a moment, Jason continues. "Madness? This is Sparta!" You refuse to laugh and instead take a seat while smiling. "How long have you been wanting to say that?" "...About three months? I figured if I didn't do it now I might forget." That's what makes you laugh. Cackle even. "That was terrible." A similarly amused voice replies. "Yep. Let's grab lunch."
You take the driver's seat this time. "You good to drive?" "Yeah. I feel a lot better now." With that said, you start up the van and drive it out of the gate you left hanging open and towards the town proper. Apparently when your uncle bought the home it was only a single house in the woods, around 15 minutes from the rest of the town. While a neighborhood has developed nearby over time, it's still rather underdeveloped- it takes a short drive before you see more than single shops and small clusters of homes and reach the town proper: Fairview, total population varying by which surrounding areas are included, but officially standing at just over 36,000.
An intensely bored-looking man stares at the two of you eating your burgers in an otherwise completely empty shop. You do your best to ignore his gaze as Jason talks. "How'd you end up with that house anyways Mitch?" "Uh.." You do your best to recall the details. "Well, apparently my uncle died about a year ago and ownership got split between my dad and his brother- his nephews. They cleaned it out a little bit but didn't really have time to deal with the sale, and since I was going off to college next year anyways we figured we could save on tuition costs if I was able to get into Fairview. Maybe rent out one of the rooms later and make back the property taxes and stuff."
Noises of understanding can be made out through Jason's chewing. "How'd your uncle die?" "He, uh, fell down the stairs drunk. Barely met him but still, pretty shit way to go." "Goddamn." Before either of you can continue the conversation, your attention is drawn to what sounds like someone screaming bloody murder down the street. Over the next 20 or so seconds the sound only moves closer, until eventually you see a very queer sight, by both definitions of the word. An acne-faced man around your age is running down the sidewalk in an unpleasantly small thong while screaming and possibly crying. Light red marks cover his back. Following closely behind him are a small horde of young men wielding soaking wet towels and pool noodles, also screaming.
