13 Griffin Way, Afternoon
Squall had fallen asleep while meditating in a handstand, and so when he was woken by the loud noises coming from his kitchen, that was a particularly bad moment.
He rushed across the house, gunblade in hand, to find his fridge, which he'd duct-taped securely shut, hanging open. Something -- someone? -- was climbing out of the fetid biomass that had once been the previous owner's groceries. A mushroom person.
(That's not something you see every day.)
It stood up shakily, fanning itself, and looked around. When it noticed Squall, it jumped in fright and dissappeared.
Squall rolled his eyes, duct-taped the fridge shut again, and stuck a fan in the window to try to clear out some of the smell.
"Well," he said to the empty room, "he sure seemed like a fun guy."
There was a faint rimshot from within the fridge.
He rushed across the house, gunblade in hand, to find his fridge, which he'd duct-taped securely shut, hanging open. Something -- someone? -- was climbing out of the fetid biomass that had once been the previous owner's groceries. A mushroom person.
(That's not something you see every day.)
It stood up shakily, fanning itself, and looked around. When it noticed Squall, it jumped in fright and dissappeared.
Squall rolled his eyes, duct-taped the fridge shut again, and stuck a fan in the window to try to clear out some of the smell.
"Well," he said to the empty room, "he sure seemed like a fun guy."
There was a faint rimshot from within the fridge.