>>5362482Typical, you mutter as you throw your scattered clothes onto your still-drying body, juuust <span class="mu-i">typical</span>! Nearly tripping as you hop on one foot to get your stockings back on, you barely have time to adjust the, uh, <span class="mu-i">chest region</span> of your <span class="mu-g">BUNNY SUIT</span> as you hurry to the door. At least it has build-in support…
Shaking the remaining droplets of water out of your hair, you pick up the pace when you hear the knock at your door again! Fucking moron must’ve locked himself out, you mutter to yourself, he doesn’t <span class="mu-i">deserve</span> to be greeted at the door like this…
More or less dressed by the time you reach the door, you take a moment to check the lock so you can hold it over Talbot’s head in your impending argument. Yep, you snarl as you grab the handle and push, <span class="mu-i">UNLOCKED!</span> So why does he need <span class="mu-i">you</span> t-
Your question goes unanswered as the wailing winds outside nearly <span class="mu-i">TEAR</span> the door off its hinges letting an arctic gale sweep you backwards off your feet and back into the trailer! Stupefied by your sudden flight, you blink in confusion as your face and body are peppered by dark, tiny, frigid flecks of ice!
“Stan…” Ly whispers, “It’s… it’s a damn <span class="mu-s">BLIZZARD!</span>”
That’d be news enough for any Calfornian, but as you peer down at your torso you make an even bigger discovery–one that gives you a sensation akin to having your guts dipped in an ice bath:
Ly, you stammer, paralyzed with shock, it’s <span class="mu-r">BLOOD.</span>
<span class="mu-s">IT’S A BLOOD BLIZZARD!</span>
Frantically wiping the sanguine snowflakes off your skin, a tall, imposing figure darkens your door–one with a familiar bowtie around his neck and tracksuit on his body…but an unfamiliar liquid metal skull-shaped mask with eyes glowing red like the drops of blood on your skin!
T-Talbot?
The mask curls into a manic grin–like something an alien would make trying to replicate human behavior.
“<span class="mu-s">WHY HELLO, HONEY–DIDJA’ MISS ME?</span>”
With that, your fellow janitor coils a metallic tendril around your neck!
<span class="mu-i">Talbot…</span> you croak as you feel your windpipe slacken under the tentacle, <span class="mu-i">wh-why…</span>
“<span class="mu-s">Don’t be a numSKULL, my dear… you know EXACTLY who I am!</span>”
Staring into Talbot’s glowing eyes, you feel the same deathly sensation you felt on that fateful night in the doggie bone factory–the one you’re still not certain how you survived…
<span class="mu-r">TIM!</span>
>CONTD. 