i see bread people (close encounters of the sixth kind)

i see bread people (close encounters of the sixth kind) Oct 31, 2022 22:54:07 GMT -5

Post by tick 12a / calla on Oct 31, 2022 22:54:07 GMT -5

J A Y E S H !!

MAN C'MON!!

It's gotta have been thirty minutes by now, maybe a few hours, maybe a whole day. Jay's sixty to seventy precent sure he fell asleep at some point, but that chunk of time doesn't count.

He lies there in the laundry basket and shakes, crosses all his fingers and all his toes that Flo will have his phone miraculously not on silent and that he'll have the common decency to sprint over here and save the day. It takes him at least three tries to unlock his phone again, but he keeps checking for a reply.

All he gets is Zeus Hollistero's face yelling back at him.

It's eerily similar to his workday.

It wasn't so bad being an intern. Wasn't so bad being a mail pusher and then the coffee boy and then an office bro that got scooped up and handed a camera. They gave him a boom mic and a week of paid leave and told to run along and find some ghosts again because he went viral once, how hard can it be to recreate? Like it's just that easy. Like there's ghosts waiting everywhere (which is a terrible thing to think about, no thank you).

He had to barter for better health insurance with the company because he knows one of these days he's going to have a heart attack and he knows that it will be on camera.

Maybe that'd bring in the views? He'll have to make a note. Tell Flo to bring along the spirit box, maybe if Jay's the ghost talking through the radio then he can finally get the bastard to believe.

But for now, his attention is elsewhere. Mainly on the vase that used to be down the hall in the kitchen but isn't anymore because it's fucking haunted with the soul of the dead President and Jay's brought it into his apartment oh god, it's disappeared somewhere where he lives, where he sleeps -

Maybe he deserves to die. Maybe that's it.

Maybe he deserves to be found in his basket of dirty laundry and that will be in his obituary and on his tombstone and that's what he'll be known for - the kid that got killed by a ghost under a pile of his unwashed socks.

After another count-backwards from one hundred and after another routine checking of his phone (which - nothing!), Jay decides to peek out from the basket.

Honestly, he expects to see some kind of horrifying spectre waiting for him, or Snow's zombie shuffling down the hall towards him. Instead all that's there is a couple of shorts that got tossed to the floor and the solid inch of dust on his nightside table that he keeps swearing he'll wipe away but hasn't had the time to do yet.

He holds his breath and stares out at the room. It's a bit darker now than it was before, which is mega weird because he's pretty sure he left the curtains open. He strains for any kind of sound coming from the kitchen - particularly the undead kind - but there's just quiet and the occasional groan of the shitty pipes in his building turn on and off.

Jay shifts a little bit, makes the whole laundry pile move, and starts to slowly get out of the basket. A little investigation couldn't hurt, right? It's totally safe! He's fine, there's nothing to worry about.

His phone decides to take that exact moment to start ringing. It's the BRRING BRRING BRRING sound that he set it to because it doubles as an alarm clock and that was the only tune loud enough to actually get him up. He very quickly regrets that choice though, because the sudden sound of it makes him launch upwards, jumping so high that he ends up banging his shins and his elbow on no less than three solid surfaces.

(Take your picks.)