Current Events > CYOA: You've been raised from the dead by a necromancer.

(+) Yeah! (+)

Mills doubles over again and gags, but doesn't quite retch. "How are you so calm about this?"
"Death has kinda taken away my ability to feel fear, or guilt, or sadness," you explain. "All those... blah feelings... just a thing of the past. Probably can't barf anymore either. I admit I will miss that."
Mills seems to regain his composure. "So... why did you kill him again?"
"He had a boat, we needed a boat," you explain. "I asked him to give us a ride, he refused, then hot diggity dog the rest was history."
"Hot diggity dog? That's how you gloss over that you bashed his head in with a hammer?" he squeaks.
"Look, if it really bothers you so much, why don't you resurrect him like you did with me? I left him on the boat," you suggest.
"I can't resurrect him," Mills growls. "It's not just muttering a couple phrases, there are supplies that go along with the ritual."
"Supplies?" you repeat. "In Harry Potter, Wormtail cut off his hand to resurrect Voldemort."
"Harry Potter isn't-" Mills starts to explain.
"Oh my god, did you cut off your hand?" you interject.
"I didn't-"
"How did you dig up my grave with only one hand? you ask him. "My god, if you resurrect someone else you'll have no hands."
Mills is getting beet red. "Slim! You need to f-"
"Can I see your stump?" you plead.
Mills slaps the sandwich out of your grasp with one hand and flips you off with the other. "I have both my hands you fucking idiot. Did you say you left the body on the boat?"
"Aww, I wanted to return the parts of the sandwich I didn't use to Jason," you say as ants begin to crawl on the bread.
"Slim!"
"Oh! Yes, he's still there.," you confirm.
"Did anyone see you do this?" asks Mills.
"Just Marge, but I left her in charge of keeping people off the houseboat," you answer. "Hehe, Marge in charge. Hey, have you ever played the rhym-"
"Did you just say houseboat?" Mills interrupts you.
"Yeah."
"We needed a yacht!" he booms. "We can't take a houseboat out onto the open ocean!"
"Well... you should have been more specific," you critique him.
"I literally never said houseboat. I specifically said yacht every time," recalls Mills.
"You also never... you never said 'not houseboat' either, so..." you trail off.
"And who the fuck is Marge? Why would she agree to help you kill an old man and steal his houseboat?"
"Oh she did not like the murder. She called the police," you relay. "But I was hoping she'd watch the boat until I came back with you anyways since I complimented her crocs."
"You told her you were coming back?" Mills asks dumbfounded.
"Yes, with my young friend," you clarify.
Mills squats and stares into the lantern. "So you killed a guy with a boat that can't go outside the harbor, and will be seized by police? And on top of all that, now the marina is hot?"
"Everywhere's hot, Mills. It's August," you say.
"That's not what I..." Mills sighs. "Yeah. You're right, Slim."
You nod to yourself proudly.
"Maybe this was a huge mistake," he mutters.
"What do you mean?"
"You killed a guy, Slim. And it's my fault," Mills chokes up. "Look, do you want to go back to heaven, Slim?"
You blink, even though you don't really need to. "What?"
"You want to go back, Slim? I will release you from your servantly bonds or whatever."
"But I haven't even helped you yet."
"It's fine," Mills stands up straight. "You ready to go?"
---

Honestly, it makes no difference to you. The endorphins will still buck the same if you're down here on earth or kicking it in the ethereal. "No, Mills. I'm not ready. You gave me a job to do and I'm going to do it. Don't give up on me just yet."
Mills rubs his temple. "Why? I'm sending you back to heaven scot-free, why would choose to stay here instead?"
"Because we're friends, Mills."
Mills eyes flutter as he bites the inside of his cheek. "Yeah?"
You give him a single nod. "Yeah."
He nods back. "Okay."
You set the hammer down on the ground and say, "I know what happened was kinda messed up, for you at least, and I know you won't share your plan with me, but ask yourself one question. If it all works out, would it be worth it?"
Mills purses his lips together as a tear forms in the corner of his eye and rolls down his chin. "We should wait until nightfall before going back to the marina."
"Okay. We can't stay here either, since I accidentally made this cave a pretty huge bear attraction."
"True," Mills agrees. "By the way, what was the gooder news?"
"I found us a houseboat," you answer.
"Of course."

Where do you and Mills go until nightfall?

A) Head to the local yacht club.
B) Find resurrection supplies for Mills in case you accidentally kill anyone else.
C) Go to your house and see if your wife will let the two of you stay until sunset.
D) Let Mills lead the way and just follow him.
---

I can't tell if A or C would be funnier. Uh, A and C, either order.
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C
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WaterLink posted...

So Thursday then?

I have Friday off, so maybe. Two updates in a three day span would be a personal record this far into a story I think.
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C
---

C
---

C
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C
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C
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It would have been a record, but its not going to be.
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What was the last one of these to be finished?

I still remember the Satan Is Your Next Door Neighbor one, I loved that one.

RIP.
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WafflehouseJK posted...

What was the last one of these to be finished?

I still remember the Satan Is Your Next Door Neighbor one, I loved that one.

RIP.

The last to get a proper ending was the father of three who smells marijuana story.

https://gamefaqs.gamespot.com/boards/586631-aerial-assault/70818646
---

HotLap posted...

WafflehouseJK posted...

What was the last one of these to be finished?

I still remember the Satan Is Your Next Door Neighbor one, I loved that one.

RIP.

The last to get a proper ending was the father of three who smells marijuana story.

https://gamefaqs.gamespot.com/boards/586631-aerial-assault/70818646

Well, I know what I'm reading tonight.
---

WafflehouseJK posted...

HotLap posted...

WafflehouseJK posted...

What was the last one of these to be finished?

I still remember the Satan Is Your Next Door Neighbor one, I loved that one.

RIP.

The last to get a proper ending was the father of three who smells marijuana story.

https://gamefaqs.gamespot.com/boards/586631-aerial-assault/70818646

Well, I know what I'm reading tonight.

Hardcore erotica?
---

slimfizzle2 posted...

WafflehouseJK posted...

HotLap posted...

WafflehouseJK posted...

What was the last one of these to be finished?

I still remember the Satan Is Your Next Door Neighbor one, I loved that one.

RIP.

The last to get a proper ending was the father of three who smells marijuana story.

https://gamefaqs.gamespot.com/boards/586631-aerial-assault/70818646

Well, I know what I'm reading tonight.

Hardcore erotica?

I bet it's hardcore erotica...

No update tonight, it's mah birthday.
---

HotLap posted...

No update tonight, it's mah birthday.

Happy birthday AssMuff
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HotLap posted...

No update tonight, it's mah birthday.

Happy flopped out of vagina day

Also @WafflehouseJK did you ever read your hardcore erotica?
---

slimfizzle2 posted...

HotLap posted...

No update tonight, it's mah birthday.

Happy flopped out of vagina day

Also @WafflehouseJK did you ever read your hardcore erotica?

You never know, he could have been a C section!

Happy birthday TC!!!

slimfizzle2 posted...

HotLap posted...

No update tonight, it's mah birthday.

Happy flopped out of vagina day

Also @WafflehouseJK did you ever read your hardcore erotica?

I read the last AsssMuff story he linked to, so yes.

Very enjoyable. Took a serious turn.

Happy birthday dude!
---

Thanks for the birthday wishes! Glad you enjoyed the Crabapple story Waffle.

Update tomorrow. I was kinda hoping you guys would pick C but I really have no idea what to write for it still haha.
---

C) Go to your house and see if your wife will let the two of you stay until sunset.

Mills start to pack his things into a nearby backpack. As he puts the lantern in, he takes out a hooded sweatshirt and tosses it to you. "Put this on to hide your face while we're on the move. I'm fairly certain you're the only zombie in town and you just committed a murder."
You shove your arms into the hoodie and yank it over your head. "Where are we on the move to?"
"I don't know," Mills says exasperatedly. "I don't really have anywhere to go right now."
"We can't just like... go to your house? I can go to the backyard garden and lie in the mulch like a tipped over bird fountain," you suggest.
"I can't go home now," he shakes his head. "I've definitely been gone long enough now to be considered a missing child. If I go home, my parents aren't gonna let me back out in God knows how long."
"How long have you been gone for?" you ask.
"A few days now," Mills replies.
You click your tongue a couple times. "Man, parents are such a drag nowadays. I remember when I was a kid."
Mills seems to be waiting for you to continue. "....and?"
"And what?"
"You... you seemed like were building up to a story and then you just kinda stopped," Mills says disappointed.
You huff. "God, my parents would do that kind of thing all the time. I remember this one time."
"... Okay," Mills accepts that he's not getting any lengthy stories from you. "What about your place?"
"What about it?"
"Well you only died six weeks ago, I'm assuming it's still standing," Mills responds.
You think it over a moment. "My wife will probably be there."
"She'll probably be happy to see you again," he assumes.
You wince. "She's probably going to want to ask a lot of questions I don't really have proper answers to."
"We don't have anywhere else to go until sunset, Slim," Mills pleads. "Please. It's our best shot at getting off the street."
You shuffle your feet in the cave dust. "Can't you just eat all the dirty ham off the ground?"
Mills frowns. "Come on, Slim. Don't make me pull rank again."
"Ugh, alright fine," you concede. "But there are going to be some ground rules we need to discuss on the way over."

You slide your arms through the backpack and yank the drawstring on your hoodie tighter. Mills adjusts his black robes to hide his face from view in the daylight. The two of you exit the cave and walk back through the woods to the cemetery. "This way," you nod your head to the right. You and Mills stride east along the main road while attempting avoiding detection from any cars or pedestrians passing by.
"Okay, rule number one," you begin. "Do not leave me alone with Carrie for any amount of time."
"How come?" Mills asks.
"Because she'll want to ask me some very uncomfortable questions, but she won't make it awkward when there's a guest present," you explain.
"What do you care if it's awkward for? You don't have a conscious anymore," contests Mills.
"Just because I can't feel bad about hurting her feelings anymore doesn't mean I want it to happen anyway," you clarify.
"Fair enough," Mills accepts.
"Second rule," you continue. "She's definitely not going to enjoy that I've been running around with a missing child.
"Understandable."
"So keep your face hidden at all times, and try to lower your voice a bit," you instruct.
---

"How's this?" Mills tries to artificially lower his voice.
"You sound like James Earl Jones got kicked in the sack," you tell him.
Being thirteen, he responds, "Who is James Earl Jones?"
"You sound like a small boy trying to pretend to be adult enough to get a job on Wall Street."
"What does that even mean?" Mills asks confused.
You rub your chin and feel a small flap of skin come loose. "Doesn't matter, we're never going to pull off deep with you. You're too early into puberty, if into it at all."
"Hey!" Mills objects.
"We can go old," you think out loud. "You can be an old, old man. We can say that your spine has shriveled to justify your pre-pubescent height."
"I guess you have no qualms about hurting my feelings," Mills mutters.
The little bit of skin detaches from your chin. You flick it onto the ground and say, "Give me your best old man voice."
"H-How's this, sonny?" Mills sounds nervous about this audition given your response to his last one.
"Hmm," you think it over. "We're getting close. Try it one more time."
Mills takes a deep breath. "Where are my knickers?"
"Pretty sure old people still call them pants, Mills," you critique him. "But great try!"
"Whatever, man. Are we good?"
"Something's still off," you squint. Then it dawns on you. His voice is still a little too high for old, old man. "The voice is perfect, but there needs to be one change to our story."
"Nice," he smiles. "Let me hear it."
"You're not an old man, you're an old lady."
"Aww no, fuck that," he rejects your proposal vehemently.
"Mills," you start to whisper, hoping he lowers his voice as well. "You have a perfect old lady voice. It's better than my actual grandmother's."
Mills reciprocates your whispering. "I gotta admit I don't love hearing that, Slim."
"Just for a little while," you plead. "If you do it well enough and casually mention you're tired, Carrie will probably let you take a nap in the guest bedroom."
"Fine," he relents.
You smile. "Thank you. Now the last rule is very important. Carrie bought an expensive coffee maker last year and is trying to justify spending so much money on it. She will offer you a cup of coffee and it's absolutely essential that you accept. She'll be much more agreeable to whatever we ask for as long as you slug a cup of Folgers."
"I don't really like coffee," Mills protests.
"You do today," you pat him on the back cheerfully.
"Why did she buy an expensive coffee maker if she was just gonna put Folgers in it?" he asks.
"I don't know, Mills. I thought the same thing."
"If I drink the coffee, I'm not going to be able to take a nap in the guest room. I'll be too wired."
"Fine. you don't actually have to drink it. Just bring it under your hood and pretend to sip it," you suggest.
"Okay," Mills agrees.
"Now say it in your old lady voice."
"Affirminable," Mills croaks.
"Wow," you coo, impressed. "I've never even heard of that word. That's like an old timey SAT word or something."
---

You peel off the main road, then down a couple side streets. Luckily no one walked by the two of you while you were in the more heavily trafficked area of town. Now that you've journeyed deeper into the suburbs, the odds of you meeting someone in the street is nearly zero. You turn the corner onto Winter Ave and see your old house. It's painted a bluish grey with your shutters and front door painted red. The wooden fence you put up two summers ago emerges from both sides of the house before shooting into your backyard. All the curtains in the windows have been drawn. The grass in your front yard is overgrown, clearly still growing from a time when you were still breathing. Carrie's car is parked crooked in the driveway behind yours. Everything seems quiet.

You point out your old home to Mills. "This is it," you tell him before adding, "...This is weird."
"I can't even imagine," he replies, thankfully sticking to his disguised voice.
You walk up to your old car and put your forehead to the driver's side window. "Someone's been driving this," you tell Mills.
"How do you know?" he asks.
"There's a Jamba Juice cup in the cupholder," you relay your findings before turning around to face him. "Where is there a Jamba Juice around here?"
"There's one a couple towns over on Route 18."
"But when?" you demand.
"Like... always. Since I was a young girl," Mills informs you.
"I had no idea," you mutter under your breath. You can't believe you died before ever trying the Jamba Juice on Route 18.

You stride up to the front door with Mills in tow. "Remember what I told you," you whisper.
"I'm ready," Mills squeaks.
You pound on the door three times. You wait for a few moments but don't hear any rustling from the other side.
"Maybe she's asleep," Mills guesses.
"Maybe," you raise your hand to knock again when the door swings open.

Carrie opens the door annoyed, before her hazel eyes grow as wide as you've ever seen them. Her blonde hair is resting limply on her shoulders. She's wearing a white tank top and pink pajama pants with polka dots running down them. Her bathrobe is hanging loosely off one shoulder, as if she just threw it on to answer the door. You notice she's wearing your navy bathrobe instead of her black one.
"Aaah, my robe!" you greet her.
Carrie lets out a rapid, single syllable "AUGH!" before slamming the door closed.
You look down to Mills, who looks up at you. "I thought that'd go better," you tell him.
Mills shrugs under his robes.
The door cracks open and one of Carrie's eyes prods into view.
You smile at her.
"Am I dead?" she spurts out while hyperventilating. "Are you here to bring me to... wherever we go?" Carrie looks down at Mills and his black robes. "I thought the Grim Reaper would be taller."
"You're not dead, Carrie," you tell her. "And this isn't the Grim Reaper, this is Gloria."
"Nice to meet you, dear," Mills caws from under his hood.
"It's good to see you," you try to break the tension. "Can we come in?"
"You know, I've dreamed about you before," Carrie shudders from behind the door. "But I've never given you zombie rot. That's... that's gonna mess me up when I wake up."
"You're not dreaming. I'm really here," you try to convince her to open the door.
---

"I'm sorry, Dream Kevin and Dream Kevin's creepy short friend, but I can't deal with what you're presenting with me right now. This is all very fucked up, but it's also not happening," you see Carrie's lips moving a mile a minute as she releases her stress-ridden stream of consciousness through the crack of the door. "So I guess I'm going to go inside and try to find a way to wake up. Not really sure how to wake myself up. I've heard that if you DIE in a dream, then you kick awake in real life. But again, as I said before, I could already be dead and if I go inside and kill myself in an attempt to wake up, but I'm not dreaming, I'll just be dead again and what happens when I die if I'm dead? If I die when I'm dead do I dream about being regular dead?"
"Wh-what?" you ask, lost.
"No thank you," Carrie calls through the crack while slowly closing it, finished with this conversation. "No thank youuuuu."

You hear the deadbolt being shut from the inside.
"Is she alright?" Mills sounds concerned.
"She is freaking out. Rightfully so," you say backing a couple steps away from the door. "Sorry for what you're about to hear, Gloria."
"What do you mean?" he asks.
You take a deep breath and start singing, "Stacks on deck, Patron on ice! We can pop bottles all night! Baby, you can have whatever you like. I said, you can have whatever you like."
"What... what are you doing?" Mills isn't even trying to veil his disgust.
"Yeah late night sex, so wet, it's so tight," you continue.
"Stop this immediately," Mills commands.
You stop briefly to explain, "The first time she kissed me was to get me to stop singing this song. We accidentally made this terrible song romantic. Although, for some reason it's kinda growing on-"
"No. Death doesn't get to make this song wonderful. But..." Mills sighs, annoyed he's about to agree to watch a corpse sing an off-key cover of Whatever You Like. "Continue."
You didn't know all the words then, and you definitely don't know them now, but you're just going to have fun with it. You open your arms and call out, "My chick could have whatever she want! And go in every store for any bag that she want! And know she ain't never had a man like that, to buy you anything ya heart desire like that."
You can see your living room curtain part just a tad.
"Talking big boy rides and big boy ice. Let me put this BIG BOY in yo' life! Thang get so wet, ya hit so right. Put. This. BIG. BOY. In. Yo'. Life."
The door flings back open and Carrie's younger sister Jess is standing in the doorway. "Stop that right now!" she shouts.
"Oh hey Jess, I didn't know you were in town," you greet her happily.
The rage that Jess flew open the door with subsides as she looks at your face, then to Carrie sitting in the living room window. She glances back and forth a few more times before giving her sister a slight, pained nod.
"Whatever happened to music like Frank Sinatra used to make?" Mills tries to voice his disapproval of your tactics while staying in character.
Jess looks down at Mills for the first time, raising an eyebrow. She takes a step away from the doorway and motions to the two of you. "Get in here."

NOTE: Sorry, this update's longer than I thought it would be and I need to be awake in six hours so I'm not going to be able to finish it tonight, but I wanted to give you guys something. I'll finish this up tomorrow.
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Bump
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Bump
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My ancient laptop restarted to install updates an hour ago and its only at 22%. It's on pace to be done around 12:30 AM so unfortunately...

slimfizzle2 posted...

Liesump

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Finally caught back up on this.
---

Good stuff, also caught up.

Muff and I have the same birthday O_O
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fire_bolt posted...

Good stuff, also caught up.

Muff and I have the same birthday O_O

1992?

Also I'll be out of town this weekend so I gotta update tonight.
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HotLap posted...

fire_bolt posted...

Good stuff, also caught up.

Muff and I have the same birthday O_O

1992?

Also I'll be out of town this weekend so I gotta update tonight.

Nah, 85. I'm a bit older than you
---

You walk side by side with Mills as you cross the threshold of your former home. The lumpy, olive green sectional couch you've had for years is still in living room. The foundation of it started to cave in and crack in certain areas, but no matter how much damage had been dealt to that couch over the years, it remained the most comfortable couch either you or Carrie had ever laid on. The coffee table you two had from when you first moved in together is sitting an arm's reach away from the couch. It's a wide, sturdy wooden table that Carrie's parents had for some reason painted completely white. The multiple coats of white paint on it made it jive with exactly zero furniture you or anyone on earth has ever had. However, despite its appearance, it was the greatest coffee table either of you had ever known. It could always perfectly hold two pizza boxes and a bottle of wine, which as everyone knows is the only metric by which coffee tables should be measured.

Carrie backs up from the window as the two of you enter and walks towards the kitchen, turning and pacing near the dinner table. Jess closes the door behind you and motions you to the ugly comfort of the couch cushions. "Take a seat, I guess."
"Ah!" Carrie involuntary calls out from the kitchen. "Just... wait," she says before disappearing down the hallway.
You and Mills are squatting a couple feet above the seat. "Is... where's she going?" you ask Jess.
"Towels, I'm assuming," Jess shrugs.
"What for?" you whisper.
Jess clicks her tongue once. "You're gross as shit, Kevin. You know how great this couch is and how close to smithereens it's gotten over the years. Can't add the scent of rotting flesh to that mix."
"Fair," you concede before clasping Mills on the shoulder. "You should be okay though Gloria."
"Ah bup bup," Jess contests. "Any old lady who's been digging through a graveyard is also unfit to sit on this chunk of heaven without a towel underneath her."
"Gloria can only crouch like that for so long," you argue. "Her back isn't what it used to be."

Carrie promptly ends the disagreement by returning with two white bath towels and spreading them across the seat and back of the sectional. You and Mills finally take a seat on the reliable couch that you'll never forget. "God, that coffin is no substitute for Old Faithful," you sink into the cushions smiling.
Carrie and Jess sit down on the other side of the sectional, finding a way to look uncomfortable on the world's most comfortable couch.
"I can't count the number of times this couch has brought me back to life after a rough night," you chuckle. Mills adds some old lady cackles to your awkward giggles.
Carrie and Jess remain silent.
"I guess it's too early for laughter," you admit.
Carrie silently nods and her sister defiantly declares, "Way too early."
Attempting to change the subject to something more light-hearted, you ask, "Where did this suit come from, Care-Bear? I don't think I owned a suit this nice."
"You didn't," Carrie confirms. "It was your brother's suit actually."
"Why didn't they bury him in it?" you ask her.
She shrugs. "I don't know. Your brother died before we even met."
"Oh I remember now!" you beat the armrest of the couch a few times as Carrie looks concerned about its structural integrity. "James got buried in my dad's suit. And Dad got buried in his dad's suit." You turn to Mills and explain, "That whole side of the family has this tradition where after someone dies, they set aside some their clothes to bury the next person in. That way they can be guided through the afterlife by the essence of someone who's already there."
"That's nice, dear," Mills replies.
---

"Man, my family got the afterlife super wrong," you snicker before turning to Carrie. "Don't tell anyone though, I really want to see the next family member who dies to be buried in my orange Cheetos sweatshirt that says 'It ain't east being cheesy' on it."
"Well there's really no one left aside from your mom," Carrie says.
"Hmm, mom wouldn't like to be lowered into the ground wearing that. How's she doing?"
"Still alive, I think," she replies.
"You think?"
"I mean, I haven't seen her since the funeral," Carrie admits. "Her husband and two sons are gone, so there's really no one to make sure she's not broken on the floor."
You bite your lower lip before suggesting, "You could do it."

Carrie seems tired of beating around the bush. "What's going on, Kevin?"
"I'm not sure entirely," you lie.
She then turns to Mills for answers. "So who are you? You're dressed like a 1970's cult member so I assume you have something to do with my husband being alive."
"I thought you'd be happy to see me," you say.
Carrie takes a deep breath that stays in her throat longer it should have. "Believe me, Kevin. I want to be, but I need to get through the five million red flags first."
Mills tries to lower the threat level a little. "I mistimed my resurrection a bit. I lost track of time and meant to commence the resurrection at nightfall. I took what I thought was a short nap. I woke up and thought it was just after sunset, but imagine my surprise when it was just before sunrise. I can't do my dark dealings in the daylight, so we had some time on our hands."
"Dark dealings?" Jess repeats.
"Y-ye-.... Mmhmm," Mills replies.
You're just now realizing that you spent a lot of time crafting Mills' old lady voice but none of his old lady story.
"There are hundreds of bodies in that cemetery," Carrie says. "Out of all of them, why did you choose Kevin Rosen?"
Mills scratches his arm through his robes. "It's a funny story actually. I meant to bring back my late husband Frank, but I must have mixed up where his plot was."
"You couldn't just read the gravestone?" Carrie asks.
"My eyes aren't so good these days," Mills replies, probably unable to see Carrie at all from under the robes.
"What a happy mistake though," you chime in. "If Gloria's eyes were perfect, I wouldn't be here."
Jess leans forward. "What is the nature of your relationship with Gloria, exactly?"
"Strictly professional," Mills answers.
"What does- what does that even mean?" Jess throws her hands up.
You try to use the original organizational structure Mills tried to establish as a defense. "It's mainly a master-servant type of arrangement. I had really no say in the matter, I'm just along for the ride."
"Master-servant?" Jess echoes.
You nod. "Mmhmm."
"And Gloria, you were originally looking for Frank?"
Mills nods. "Mmhmm."
"So you were trying to revive your dead husband to make him be a slave in service of your-" Jess makes finger quotes "-dark dealings? That's a little messed up. Enslaving the love of your life."
Mills shifts uncomfortably on the towel before going for a hail mary. "He used to hit me something awful."
You cut in with, "We shouldn't be giving Gloria the fifth degree here. We should be thanking him!"
"Did you just say him?" Carrie asks.
---

"I meant her, of course," you bob your head incoherently. "...I'm always getting things mixed up in my old age," you add before freezing after realizing you accidentally did the old lady voice.
"Was that your impression of Gloria confusing her own gender?" Carrie asks.
"Y-yeah," you nod vigorously. "We may be master and servant but we have a good time."
"I don't really think that's what slavery's all about," Jess replies.
"Oh I can take a joke," Mills says. "I give as good as I get though. He's not the only who can do an impression."
"Really?" Jess asks delighted. "Let's hear your impression of Kevin."
You see Mills recede further into his robes as he realizes he now has to do an impression of an old lady doing an impression of you. He eventually makes a noise that sounds like a komodo dragon trying to inhale with a closed windpipe.
Jess furrows her brow. "That was your Kevin?"
"Well that's the sound he made when he first woke up," he explains.
"Jesus Christ," Jess mutters under her breath.
"Gloria, would you like any coffee?" Carrie offers.
"I would love some. Do you have any Folgers? I love Folgers. It's the only brew worth a damn in my opinion. I just crave those Folgers beans," Mills stops as he feels your hand grip his thigh.
Carrie eyes the two of you suspiciously while giving a faint nod. "Okay. I'll get right to it."
As Carrie gets up heads to the kitchen, Jess adds, "I think I'm going to give her a hand with that," before following.

When the two of you are alone, Mills leans in and says, "Well this is going pretty fucking terribly."
"You almost saved it with your Folgers monologue," you say half-sarcastically. It might have worked, you suppose it's too soon to tell.
"We've already told so many lies that I can't keep track of them," Mills stressfully massages his thighs.
"It doesn't matter if they believe us, as long as they let us stay here," you say as you rise from the couch. You walk over to a shelf hanging off the wall and look at the picture sitting on it. You're wearing a tuxedo holding a piece of wedding cake, while Carrie is holding one as well in a crouching position, ready to retaliate if you escalate the cake Cold War every wedding lives through. Her blonde curls are spilling out from under her veil and the frills of her dress spread across the dance floor. You're both laughing, seconds away from filling each other's mouth with frosting.
Mills joins you at your side, looks at the photo, then tugs at your sleeve. "I thought you said you didn't own a suit as nice as this one. That one looks great."
"I don't, I rented that tux," you tell him.
Mills lets out a brisk laugh before looking at the other photos of you and Carrie on the shelf. "You look happy."
"Yeah," you nod. "That was kinda the point."

Carrie comes back into the living room with a steaming cup of java, Jess in tow. You and Mills sit back down on the towels as Carrie hands off the mug. "I hope you don't mind black. I thought I had milk and sugar, but I must be out."
As Mills accepts the mug he says, "Oh I don't mind at all. Black like my robes." Realizing that the color of his robes doesn't mean anything in the context of this conversation, he tries to add, "The raw bean is the finest. The bare bean-..."
You, Carrie, and Jess look at Mills expectantly.
Mills stops trying to make sense of coffee and just pulls the mug under his robes before making the most ridiculously over the top slurping noise you've ever heard in your god dang life.
Carrie and Jess harden their stares at Mills.
---

This proves to be too much for Mills, who puts the mug down on the coffee table and tries to violate the first rule you issued him. "Could I use the little girl's room?"
"Sure, it's down the hall, second door on the left," Carries states.
"I'll show him," Jess offers, standing from the couch and guiding Mills out of the room.
Mills tries to make his way through the living room with the impaired vision from his robes. His hip bone slams into the corner of the hutch. "OooooOOOOOooo," he groans in agony.
"You okay Gloria?" you ask.
Mills limps wordlessly down the hallway.
"Blind as a bat, she is," you mutter to your wife.

You're now alone with Carrie, just where you didn't want to be. In order to avoid answering tough questions, you ask a question of your own, "You remember the first place we moved in together?"
Carrie nods. "The old rectory, how could I forget?"
There was a local church who needed some financial help and the minister lived nearby, so he had no use for the rectory. The church decided to rent out the place to make some extra dough, and you two thought it'd be a funny story. The house must have been built in the 1700s and gave off some seriously haunted vibes. "You remember how the cat used to just stare off really intensely into space for minutes on end?"
"Again, how could I forget? It was terrifying," Carrie adjusts to face you while sitting cross-legged.
"We always used to joke that he was seeing all the ghosts of the people who either died in the rectory or had funerals at the church," you laugh. "And while we said it as a joke, I think we kinda tacitly accepted that was what he was looking at, otherwise-"
"Otherwise what the fuck was he looking at?" she laughs.
"Exactly!" you exclaim. "But... I've died and know that ghosts are way off base from what actually happens so... what was he looking at?"
"I don't know," Carrie shrugs. "That behavior was pretty on brand though. He was a black cat that we named Spooky. I admit I'd have been a little disappointed if he didn't do any fucked up shit."
"Yeah I guess that's true."
"So, is this what we're gonna do?" Carrie asks. "Just talk about old times like everything's good?"

Thankfully you don't have to answer that as Mills returns to the living room. Jess follows behind him and quickly grabs his sleeve. "This is a dude!" she announces.
"What?" you act surprised.
"What?" Mills echoes.
Jess tries to pull his hood down by Mills keeps swatting her hand away.
Jess starts to explain. "Something shockingly didn't feel right about this whole thing, so I listened outside the door as 'Gloria' went to the bathroom."
"And?" Mills challenges her.
"I've been peeing sitting down all my life, I know what it sounds like!" Jess argues. "This dude pissed standing up!"
"I have excellent aim!" Mills growls.
"Stop lying!" she yells.
You stand up. "You can't just listen to people pee, Jess. Especially little boys, that's definitely a crime I think."
"It probably is," Jess admits. "But I was trying to listen to an old woman pee, which is perfectly legal! Thanks for confirming he's a boy, by the way!"
"Alright you caught me," Mills declares. "I am actually a strong, wealthy man."
---

"Strong?" Jess questions. "Your flailing arms feel like ladybug kisses whenever they hit me. And what is that voice?" Jess eventually dodges Mills' attempts to protect his hood and reveals his identity to the room.
You put your hands over your mouth. "Gloria! What happened to you?"
"We're really fucking bad at this, Slim," he concedes defeat.
"Slim?" Carrie looks up at you.
"Because James' suit hangs off my body," you explain.
Getting a better look at Mills, Jess announces, "That's the mayor's kid. The missing kid everyone's been looking for. That's him!"
The look on his face tells you that Jess' assumption was true. "It doesn't matter," you say.
"What do you mean it doesn't matter?" Jess asks, "Are you fucking crazy? "
"Look, I already knew he was a kid who ran away from home who wanted my help. I don't care who his father is, I'm still gonna do it" you explain.
"Carrie?" Jess looks to her sister.

Carrie takes a deep breath. "I honestly don't care that Kevin is helping the mayor's missing son with some weird afterlife mission."
"Alright," you cheer as Mills follows up with a "Nice!"
"I really only care about one thing. Why did you kill yourself Kevin?" she asks.
"I gotta go to the bathroom again," Mills turns for the hallway.
"Me too," you try to follow him.
"Sit down!" Carrie demands.
The two of you take your assigned seats on the towels. "I was... depressed," you answer.
"Yeah, no shit Kev. You're gonna have to dig a little deeper than that," she tells you.
"Are you sure it's appropriate to talk about suicide with a child present?" you try to find an excuse out of the conversation.
Mills doesn't pick up on the hint and interjects, "Oh I already knew. It's why I picked you."
"Say what now?"
"Yeah, I figured I'd revive somebody who hated being alive so much, that they'd agree to do anything I'd ask in order to just be dead again," Mills grabs his mug from the table. "I just wasn't counting on you being so... y'know, giddy." Mills actually takes a real sip of coffee this time. "Ooooh, I still don't like it," he says as he puts the mug back down while smacking his lips. "That's awful."
"Giddy?" Carrie repeats. "You've been giddy?"
You point at the back of your head. "I kinda have this constant endorphin high that makes me incapable of feeling sadness, anger, fear, guilt, pain, nervousness, you know, all the bad stuff. Not sure why I'm pointing back here though. Is that where endorphins come from?"
"So you're happy now?" Carrie asks.
"Happiest I've ever been," you accidentally blurt out without a filter.
"Huh," Carries bites her bottom lip.
"But through means which I can't control," you try to quickly add.
"Nice save," Jess says callously from behind the couch.
"Thanks," you smile at Jess. "Didn't think I'd pull it off."
"I wasn't being serious, you idiot. Plus you just fucking admitted you were trying to make a save which defeats the whole purpose," she scolds you.
"Another great point, Jess," you applaud her unironically.
"Screw you, Kevin," Jess replies.
"I was being sincere," you argue.
"I know."
"I guess everyone's entitled to their opinion," you conclude.
---

"I'm tired," Mills yawns in a desperate attempt for the guest bedroom.
You stand up and grab the wedding cake photo off the shelf. "The best way I can describe it is this. The way I feel on the inside now is how I look in this photo. And how I've felt on the inside for years is how I look on the outside now."
Carrie rolls her eyes. "That wasn't deep, Kevin! That's just rehashing what you said before. You were depressed, I know. I just want to know why."
You scratch the back of your head. "It's hard for me to get in touch with that darkness that I had before, since, y'know... it's gone now," you announce joyfully.
"Okay you gotta go," Carrie takes the photo from you, places it down next to Mills' mug, and tries to bring you to the front door.
"Why?" you ask.
Carrie dabs her eyes with the sleeve of your bathrobe. "I can't have you here pretending like everything's fine. Everything is not fine, Kevin. Everything is fucked up. And all I need to come to terms with that is a little perspective, but you can't give me that."
"Okay, fine. I'll go, but don't take it out on Mills!" you plead. "He's just a kid I'm trying to help, but I can't give him what he needs either. But you can, Carrie. Just let him sleep here til nightfall, then we'll be out of your hair."
Carrie looks at Mills who's trying to achieve invisibility through stillness. "Fine."
"Also can I get my cell phone?" you ask. "Mills can just text me when he's ready and I can read all the things people said about my death on Facebook."
Carrie sighs, opens a drawer on the TV stand, and pulls out your cell phone. "Here."
You toss it to Mills. "Put your number in there."
As he obliges, he asks, "Do you have Snapchat?"
"Yeah," you answer.
"What's your username?
"Just add him by phone number," Jess warns.
"It's wetcucumber," you tell him.
"Ugh," Jess groans.
Mills tosses your phone back to you. "See you soon, Slim."
"You sure will!"

"Okay, you better get going, Kev." Carrie opens the front door. "Unless you feel like getting in touch with that darkness."
You stride to the doorway. "I want to, but I can't. I think you'd feel a lot better if you stopped focusing on the 'why'. If you spend all your time focused on the 'why', you'll miss a lot of great 'what's."
Carrie scowls. "Fuck you, Kevin. I never gave a shit about the 'why' until I lost the 'who'."
"They're always on Spotify," you joke.
She shakes her head in disbelief. "I don't know who you are. You may look like my husband, but you're not Kevin. You're just Slim now."
Carries slams the door on you.

What do you do?

A) Try singing the T.I. song again to get back into the house.
B) Lay in the garden like a tipped over bird fountain and read Facebook eulogies until nightfall.
C) Ask for your car keys so you can go to the Jamba Juice on Route 18.
D) Ask for a change on clothes so you can scout the marina without drawing suspicion.
---

B
---

C, but at some point B, read Facebook eulogies.
---

A while B.
---

I thought I'd be more tired after staying up til 4AM, but I feel pretty good.

Anyways, I have to go be a degenerate and gamble away all my hard earned money this weekend, so no update til Monday at the earliest.
---

B for a bit but C once we get bored
---

B
---

C then B. Come back from the Jamba juice bored and kinda disappointed with what you bought
---

Some combination of B and C - 3
B - 2
AB - 1

Good news, I only lost $140 at Mohegan Sun last night. I came ready to lose $200, so its really like I'm up $60.

Also Lou Ferrigno just walked our table at brunch.
---

Bump for purge save. Hoping for an update Monday or Tuesday.
---

HotLap posted...

Bump for purge save. Hoping for an update Monday or Tuesday.

So Thursday or Friday. Got it
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bump
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