teenage jive, walking wreck
Mike was the first downstairs, sharing a cup of tea with Petyr, who just sat behind the telly and glared through their thick veil of hair. Neil was the next downstairs.
"Wow, man! Your costume is, like, so far out!"
"Thank you, Neil, as is yours. May I ask what that stain is?" Mike pointed to an oddly shaped stain of an indeterminate color.
"Oh... I don't know, actually. Probably lentils."
Mike was about to make a quippy response when Vyv blundered down the stairs, leaving a trail of blood behind him.
"Vyv! Are you okay?" Neil was alarmed. As much as they talked about death, they weren't the biggest fan of gore.
"Yes. Why?" He furrowed his brow in confusion.
"Well, Vyv, you've got a little bit of, um, an axe. In your head." Neil winced.
"Yes! That's my costume. I reckon I'll win the competition."
"If you don't, well, die first, that is. Gosh, where is Rick? He really is taking so very long to-"
"Probably putting on his makeup, the little girly!" Vyvyan laughed to himself. And just as the words escaped his lips, a dolled up Rick Pratt pranced down the stairs.
For at least a month, Rick had been bragging about his amazing and creative costume. Of course, he never showed any evidence of it existing, or even told them what it was, so they all assumed it was her typical Rick bravado.
But here they were, standing at the bottom of the staircase, the spitting image of Margaret Thatcher.
"Bloody hell!" Vyvyan roared and stomped over, inspecting Rick's thick makeup and curled hair. Their faces were almost touching, and Rick tensed. "Poof."
"Well, I was supposed to dress up as something scarwy, was I not? Was I not?" The indignant poet repeated himself, and he would have been blushing if it weren't for the blush already covering his face.
"By golly, Rick, where did you learn to do that? And I don't mean walking down the stairs."
"Well, um." Her ears went bright red as she remembered that he wasn't out to the other 3. "I have a sister."
"No you bloody well don't! You're the classic example of an only child!" Vyv roared, to Rick's dismay.
"She's older. Much older." Rick scoffed. "What would you know about me anyway, Vyvyan?"
"We've been living together 2 years, Rick." Mike piped up.
"Oh shut up, Neil! I mean- Mike." Neil frowned, though none of them could see through the sheet hanging like moss over their head.
"Are we all, like, ready to go? Because I'm getting a little bit hungry, and you guys told me there would be food at the party."
"Yes, let's go." Rick marched confidently to the door, his blue pantsuit fitting his figure a little bit better than should fit a man. Vyvyan recognized that, as he'd seen it in himself for years before telling the world to go fuck itself.
"Where are we going, anyway?" Vyv questioned.
"Doesn't matter. Now, on the count of three... 1, 2, 3, BOING!" Mike cried and they all bounced into the air. Seconds later, they exited through the door, and they were gone. The house lay empty, save for a smiling Petyr wearing devil ears and clutching a basket of chocolates.