>>5424062WAIT, you growl as you get a whiff of fresh <span class="mu-g">PIZZA,</span> what’s <span class="mu-i">that</span> supposed to mean?!?
“You answer the door in your underwear, like, half the time.” Explains Gus with the usual charisma. “You’re usually drunk though, so…” Punctuating his sentence with a shrug, he glances deeper into the house. “Cool house.”
Yea, well, you sigh, it’s, uh… it’s <span class="mu-i">Mitzi’s</span>, actually… but she’s going through some shit right now an-
“Family stuff?”
Yea, you nod as you abandon your previous explanation, exactly.
“She’ll come around.” Gus declares as he gives you an eighth of a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry.”
Oh <span class="mu-i">yea?</span> How can he be so sure, huh?
“Cuz’ you’re helping her out.” Replies the delivery man as he steps off the porch towards his bike.
As if <span class="mu-i">THAT</span> explains everything, you snarl! And what about the money you owe him!?
Answering your question with a dismissive wave over his shoulder, Gus mounts his mighty steed and rides off like the cowboy at the end of a Western Flick. Watching him depart, you hear a shuffling behind you.
“<span class="mu-i">I-izzat… pizza?</span>”
Turning to face the voice, you find yourself staring at a sentient pile of blankets with one bloodshot eye peeking out from beneath the folds! Yea, you nod, and uh… <span class="mu-g">SANDWICH SHIT… BOOZE…</span> but you also grabbed her <span class="mu-g">BOTTLED WATER</span> since, like, your uncle says the regular stuff has chemicals that weaken you, or something.
“<span class="mu-i">Did… did you answer in your underwear?</span>”
<span class="mu-s">YES,</span> you groan, now can we friggin’ <span class="mu-i">DROP</span> it already!?
“<span class="mu-i">Yea…</span>” The blanket beast rasps, voice still weak from crying, “<span class="mu-i">Just… just one more thing, though…</span>”
Pouncing with alarming ferocity for someone who just spent the last few hours like a burrito, Mitzi emerges from her cozy cocoon and wraps you in a teary embrace!
“<span class="mu-i">Th-thanks, Stan…</span>” She sobs, tears still streaking down her damp, reddened cheeks, “<span class="mu-i">F-for everything…</span>”
And before you can stop her, Mitzi plants a big, thankful kiss on your cheek!
“<span class="mu-i">S-sorry…</span>” She stammers as she immediately retreats from the hug with embarrassment plastered on her face, “<span class="mu-i">Th-that… s-shit, Stan, I didn’t…</span>”
Still feeling her peach gum-flavored lips on your cheek, you stand in the entryway next to the mountain of food completely and utterly flatfooted.
“<span class="mu-r">W-well, then… Th-that might mean she feels a little b-better?</span>”
How do you handle this?
>OKAY, TIME TO LEAVE! ENJOY THE FOOD! HAPPY TO HELP!>STAY AND EAT–MAYBE CALL HER A DORK WHILE YOU’RE AT IT!>KISS HER BACK! IF IT HELPS HER FEEL BETTER, WELL…>BACK TO THE TIME STREAM!>WRITE-IN!That's it for tonight, by the way--today was an absolute shitshow and I'm dog tired. Should have more <span class="mu-g">TUESDAY AROUND 4-5PM PST!</span> Thanks as always for playing, anons--I'm gonna miss this.
