TDM - JANUARY 2021

[robbies]

TEST DRIVE MEME - JANUARY 2021

Good to the last gasp.
CW: gaslighting, potential mentions and depictions of trauma and other problematic material, body horror, dolls, violence

---

“Help me. Please, help me…”

A child’s voice, calling out for aid. There’s no rhyme or reason for when it comes to you. It’s so quiet, a whisper in the deepest, darkest corners of your mind. Were it not for the sharp, stabbing pain it pulls out of you, you could ignore it. You could even pretend it’s just your imagination.

It all happens so quickly and powerfully. Left in the dust, your brain struggles to process it all. Blacking out is the least it can do, but it’s also all it can do, and it does so before you even have a chance to fully register just how young the voice is, and how deeply, heartbreakingly lost it sounds.

When you finally awaken with your bare feet tangled in soft sheets, a layer of fuzzy fleece or slinky silk clinging to your body like another layer of skin, the sunlight pouring in from the window next to your bed momentarily blinding you, and the cries of happy children playing outside of it carrying faintly, it all becomes very clear—

Something is horribly wrong.

---

JANUARY 1st.

It becomes very clear very quickly that this isn’t a simple kidnapping. If you’re twenty years old or older, the bedroom you wake up in is very clearly a couple’s bedroom — with separate beds like a modest, modern couple of course! A similarly lost and confused stranger is in the other. They are your counterpart, for everything in this room has a matching counterpart — the nightstand and lamp each of you have beside your beds, the framed pictures on the wall, even your pajamas. If you’re under twenty years old, your room is smaller but more personalized, filled with comic books, model kits, stray baseball cards littered around the floor. Dolls, fashion magazines of people dressed from a bygone era, stacks of vinyl records neatly arranged next to a record player. And then there are the pictures. They’re everywhere in the house — in a frame on your nightstand, hung on the walls, stuck in the photo albums and scrapbooks lying on your desk or tucked away in drawers. Here you are on your wedding day, exchanging vows with your partner. Here’s you sitting in a fishing boat with one of the younger members of your house. Here’s a picture of you at ten years old getting ready for the first day of school. All of the photographs are aged, sepia, even yellowed and dusty in frames hung for a long, long time. By the time you make it down to the living room, you’ll notice that the television is on; someone must have forgotten to turn it off before they went to bed. On it, the morning news is playing. The newscaster, a man in a gray suit and horn-rimmed glasses, keeps shuffling his paperwork on his desk as black and white footage of people in the midst of celebration — throwing streamers, wearing paper hats, toasting flutes of bubbly liquid — is interspersed between his droning report: ”New Year's Eve was in full swing last night as citizens from all over Santa Rosita came together to ring in 1961. A surge in ginger ale and sparkling cider beverage sales was reported by Honeybees as early as eight o'clock in the evening, a boon for the store…“

---

GETTING TO KNOW THE NEIGHBORS.

As you get acclimated, you gradually begin to learn more about this strange new world you’ve found yourself in. You’re in a neighborhood on the east side of a town called Santa Rosita located… somewhere in California (wherever or whatever that might be). The year is 1961. If it wasn’t clear enough, your neighbors are more than willing to humor you if you ask. Even if you accost them with questions and demands. Sure, you and your family are a little kooky, and you have a very overactive imagination, but the key to any good joke is playing along! And how could something like “I’m from the future, from another world” be anything but a joke? A. CLOWN AROUND. If December was a time for sweet treats and good food, January is the month where everyone is trying to unload their leftovers. Who better to enjoy them than you, the newest family on the block? Your neighbors have quite a bit of food to share: Throughout the month, they'll stop by to say hello, bringing a new sugary dish with them each time. As always, jello molds are a staple. One plate turns into three turns into five, and by the end of the first week of January, you're likely to end up with a collection of jiggling pink, green, and orange lumps taking up space in your fridge. From mountains of Whip 'n Chill to Broken Window Glass cake, you'd be forgiven in thinking that there's no end to it. And yet, there's the occasional exception. Someone comes by with a Bundt cake lathered in vanilla icing and topped with rainbow sprinkles. Were it not for the giant candy clown head topping it, it would almost look good enough to eat. "There's a rumor going around that you've been a bit under the weather, so I thought this would cheer you up!" they say, right before thrusting the technicolor nightmare into your hands, the clown's dead pink frosted eyes staring up at you. Your neighbor is quick to tell you to eat it while the icing is still fresh (you never know who might lick it off when you're not looking, eh kids?), but not that the clown itself is made out of styrofoam. That's something you'll just have to find out for yourself when you take it back inside and start chowing down!

B. SNOW DAY

What awakens you one cold Friday morning isn't the blare of your alarm clock or your family getting ready to start their day or even the chilly air that tickles your toes as they poke out from the bottom of your covers, but the sound of hooting and hollering outside your window. The sight that awaits you when you go to investigate is something out of a Norman Rockwell painting: The entire neighborhood is outside, playing and carrying on in the snow. While everyone was sleeping, Santa Rosita got four inches of snow, more than enough for the schools to close but not enough to stop everyone from enjoying it.

And enjoy it they are! Children build snowmen in their front yards while their fathers work on shoveling their driveways. Most, however, are busy erecting snow forts in their yards and the middle of the street, running back and forth as they collect ammunition for an ongoing snowball fight that takes up half of the neighborhood. Nobody is spared from their assault, not even the adults, and especially not the newly arrived ones who leave the house. Good luck getting the mail, mom and dad!

"Come on! There's plenty of snow!" one young boy yells at you over a snowdrift. "You can join my team!"

"Nuh-uh!" another boy shoots back. "You can join my team!"

And on and on it goes. Well, for the pacifists among you, making snow angels is always an option!

---

THROUGHOUT JANUARY.

CW: gaslighting, potential mentions and depictions of trauma, and other problematic material

There’s no business like show business! And business is hopping at the Starlight Drive-In, which has been boasting about its all-new film premiering on January 2nd and playing all month long. The critics are raving, the townspeople are flocking, and plans to go to the drive-in seems to be all anyone can talk about. “Make sure you get there early to see the serials,” many of them suggest, eyes wide with excitement. “I couldn’t look away!” Whether you come with your family, your friends, or simply come on your own, the lot is packed, Robbies and normal townsfolk alike beaming as they hook the individual speakers onto their cars. Apropos of the cold weather, the concession stand has added seasonal items to their menu, serving up hot chocolate and kettle corn in addition to its usual soda and popcorn. Watching a movie against a backdrop of gently falling snow while you're sipping on steaming chocolate and melted marshmallows has a certain je nais se quoi to it that even you have to admit is appealing. At last, when it's finally dark enough to start, the projector clicks on from the booth in the back of the lot and the movie begins. A. COMING ATTRACTIONS. The movie, Curse of the Doll People, is a horror flick. A real chill-o-rama, starring actors you've never heard of playing a group of archeologists who unknowingly trigger a deadly curse that sets a group of murderous living dolls upon them. The poster pasted on the ticket booth promises it'll be the most fun you'll have screaming. Unfortunately, you have to sit through several minutes of previews first. The coming attractions aren't anything special — a bunch of westerns, a romance, even a beach musical. Far from being bored to tears like you might be, the people in the cars around you are glued to the screen, popping snacks into their mouths and whispering their commentary among themselves. The movie is the reason why everyone's here, sure, but you don't just get one flick out of going to the pictures! There's also the serials, little 5—10 minute long chapter plays that tell a story in pieces. Nothing can beat those, and when the first one starts, everyone sits in rapt attention as if it were the feature presentation itself. But as the scene opens up on a sight that is instantly familiar to you, and your own face stares back at you from the projection screen, it becomes clear that this is no ordinary film. You watch your memories play out in grainy black and white footage, aired for all the world to see. Or perhaps not — though you may not realize it, the movie playing out on the screen differs from person to person. No one sees the same thing. The person next to you might see one of their worst fears come to life, whether imagined or real, practical or fantastic. You might see one of the worst moments of your life — the death of a friend, your hated enemy bringing you to the brink of death, your absolute lowest point — exactly the way you remember it... save for the way your double on the screen occasionally turns to face the audience, staring directly at you with a knowing smirk and a wink. Or the way your loved ones will sometimes go off-script, gazing at you with pleading eyes as they beg you to help them. The people of Santa Rosita will see an exciting battle between two pirate ships, swashbuckling and cannon fire in place of the traumas you're witnessing. When the serial ends on a cliffhanger, much to the disappointment of everyone around you, it's almost a mercy. "Tune in next week for the thrilling second part!" Well, you will, won't you?

---

END OF THE MONTH.

CW: body horror, dolls, violence

Aside from the horror of the drive-in, January might seem to be passing calmly... until one night, something changes. In the middle of the night, once you fall asleep in your comfortable bed (or on your couch, or with your head lolling against the kitchen table), a nightmare comes to you. The shift from whatever dreams you were having to the cold, dark void you find yourself standing in happens gradually and quietly. So too does the image that plays out in your mind's eye: From out of the darkness, a featureless mannequin stands ramrod straight, facing you with its arms pressed rigidly to its sides. It has no face, no identifying marks, no features at all. It's a blank slate in every sense of the word... until it isn't. Slowly, the material of the lower half of its face begins to split as a searing pain tears through your own, as if invisible fingers are ripping your lips off inch by inch. The slit on the doll's face widens and deepens until, finally, mercifully, its new mouth opens as yours disappears, replaced by a flat, smooth barrier of skin. Like it was never there to begin with. The pain returns, this time in your arms and neck — right as the doll's own begin to jerk. Your joints are hardening, seizing up as the doll's arms go from minutely twitching to slowly flexing. While every nerve and bone from your fingertips all the way up to your shoulders grows heavy, the doll tilts its head and looks down at its hands, as if seeing them for the first time. By the time it takes its first step, you've taken your last: the pain has spread to your feet, ankles and toes hardening and locking into place. Every part of you is claimed this way; what isn't taken by force simply fades from your body and shifts into being onto the doll's, your skin replacing its cloth body, your clothing dressing it, your hair filling out its head. Your tongue goes numb as the licks its newfound lips, coarse cloth and batting surging up from your lungs and all the way to the back of your throat. By the time it's over, you can't move. You can no longer breathe. All you can do is stare at the perfect, eyeless double of yourself standing before you. As your eyes begin to burn, the last thing you see before everything goes black is the sly curve of a smile — your smile — before the face wearing it turns away and walks back into the darkness. Luckily, you wake up to a room full of sunshine and the distant sound of traffic as the neighborhood gets ready for another beautiful day. The morning air feels cold and dry on your skin. You're you. As much as you've always been. Right?

A. DOPPELGANGER.

It's the kind of morning that makes you want to sing. Where the sky was once dull and grey, it's now a deep blue. Barring the usual hustle and bustle on the streets of Shadyside, the first sound that greets you when you wake up is the steady beat of water trickling outside your window as the snow begins to gently melt under the rays of the sun. You may even hear the chirp of a bird! January, in all its dreariness, is nearly at an end.

When you leave the room to go downstairs — or upstairs, if you slept in the living room — the house is quiet and flooded with sunlight. With how perfectly silent everything is, it's easy to mistake the calm for solitude and think you're alone.

This is not the case.

Waiting to greet you is a familiar figure. If you go downstairs, you'll see it sitting in your kitchen with its head bowed and its arms hanging limply at its sides; if upstairs, lying in your bed on its back. There's no mistaking who it is. Even at a distance, their hair, face, clothes and features all instantly recognizable, and you know who it is before you even fully register their presence:

You.

Motionless, your doppelganger looks more puppet than person. Its chest is still, not a single breath leaving its mouth. Its eyes are closed. They snap open when you get closer to it, wide enough to see the whites, as its head jerks up to look straight at you. In a staccato imitation of your voice, it chirps at you:

"Hi!"

"Good morning!"

"Hello!"

"Rise and shine!"

Your clone is a good imitation, but not a perfect one. Its movements are stiff and uncoordinated, like a marionette being commanded by unseen strings. Though its cheeks are rosy, its skin is pale and almost glossy with the texture of newly polished porcelain. None of these setbacks bother it in the very least. If left alone, it goes about the house mimicking your morning routine, though given how awkward just walking is for it, it's almost certain to do a very bad job. Still, it tries its hardest, following you all day around the neighborhood, trying to imitate your movements — all with a smile!

That is, until you become aggressive with it.

It doesn't take much to set your doppelganger off — a simple shove will do it. When that happens, its eyes will do the impossible and open even wider, its mouth yawning into a wail that pitches louder and louder. That's the point when it will lunge at you. Its hands will try to go for your throat, but not always. It's resourceful enough to improvise with whatever it has around it, whether that be a kitchen knife, a paperweight, or even a letter opener. Luckily for you, they're fragile. Just hitting them is enough to crack and chip away at their skin. With enough strength, their limbs can even come off. Unluckily, they don't stay down for long; even a severed appendage can be popped back into its proper ball-jointed place.

All the while, they never stop childishly whining and shrieking at you.

"Not nice!"

"Why are you so mean?!"

"Not nice, not nice, NOT NICE!"

The only way to shut them up for good is to keep pummeling them until they're nothing but a pile of doll parts. But be thorough — even a mouth that's nothing but a shard of porcelain can still talk.

---

OOC INFO

Hello, and welcome to We're Still Here's second TDM! Here's a few things we'd like you to keep in mind:

The TDM is canon. You can treat this as the game's first real event and pick and choose what threads you would like your character to remember when they enter the game. For characters who app into the game, the events of the TDM will be treated like a dream. Upon awakening from it, characters will find that time has jumped ahead to February 1st. You may also feel free to use similar reality and/or time distortions to explain why the family members your characters have in the TDM aren't the same as the ones they may be assigned to in the game proper. Additionally, starting today comments made to the TDM will now count towards Activity Check. Current players are permitted to use up to five comments from it for this month's Activity Check — half of the required amount to pass. The other five must be made within the game's communities.

If you would like to have January or other winter-themed content in your relaxed housing prompts, please feel free! You are not beholden to follow our prompts exactly so long as the spirit is maintained.

There is no Network prompt listed, but feel free to wildcard one for your characters anyway.

Although the TDM is canon in the sense that characters are free to remember its events when they app into the game, it does not count as an official plot heavy event, meaning that characters will not receive regains from participating in it.

A note about the drive-in theater: Players are in full control over what memories, phobias, or fears the serials before the movie will depict. You can also specify whether or not other characters will be able to see your character's serial. Be sure to label your threads with relevant content warnings if needed!

---

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Comments

Charlie Kelly | It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia

[jobbies]

JANUARY 1st.

[Charlie's eyes blink open, not to the sound of cats yowling outside his apartment window or of Frank's snores, but to the sounds of kids playing outside. He sits up suddenly and blinks around half-dazed at his very unfamiliar surroundings. This is not his one room apartment or his pull-out couch bed and these are not his clothes. He looks down at himself, tugging at the fleece pajamas. Nope, he certainly doesn't own anything this new or clean. If there's someone else in the bed next to his, he hasn't yet noticed.]

What the hell is this? [He looks up from his clothing, a horrified expression on his face.] What... Where am I?

[At some point, he throws on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt he found in the closet and some vintage sneakers and makes his way downstairs. The whole time he's looking around in utter confusion at the portraits on the walls, seeing himself and a family of strangers he's never seen before in the framed photos. He's still a bit dazed and half convinced that maybe this is his real life and his memories at Paddy's Pub were all a dream. You'd think he'd remember getting married and having a kid, though. Yeah okay this is getting real weird. He ventures into the living room where the TV is on and stops to watch.]

1961? What the hell is this?

[Later on, he'll venture outside to encounter his next door neighbors whom he immediately finds extremely weird and irritating. Whenever he asks them a serious question, they smile and make patronizing jokes without ever giving him a real answer. Then one of them hands him a cake and he's left standing there at the end of his driveway, holding a cake and looking around completely lost. Finally, he just throws back his head and screams.]

WHAT THE HELL?!

GETTING TO KNOW THE NEIGHBORS.

A. Clown Around.
[Charlie is highly suspicious about this free food thing. These people are creepy as shit, always smiling and giving him food and acting super nice. He doesn't like it. But at the same time... it's free food. Which presents him with his current dilemma. He sits at the dinner table locked in a silent staring match with the clown cake. Eventually, he speaks.]

...What are you.

[After some time, he takes a swipe of icing and licks his finger, never breaking eye contact with the cake. Here, his expression softens a bit. It's actually kind of good and he's hungry. If your character walks in, they might find him staring at the cake or happily digging into it with a fork later on. They might also catch him getting ready to bite into the styrofoam clown head or maybe the head is mysteriously missing.]

B. Snow Day.
[Despite how this place is weird and creepy and it isn't Philadelphia, the joy and laughter of kids playing in the snow is kind of contagious. Charlie steps outside in whatever winter garb he found in the closet, walks right past the snow shovel and grabs a sled. Fuck doing work. This isn't even his real driveway. He climbs to the highest hill in town, jumps on his sled and away he goes. Anyone below might want to get out of the way; he's having trouble steering this thing. Or maybe don't get out of the way and go on an accidental sled-venture with him?

Or perhaps you'll find him later on chilling in a snow fort with some beer. But if he's had a few, watch out, you might get hit with a snowball.]

END OF THE MONTH.

Doppelganger
[This place is weird but today is especially weird because Charlie just found a life-sized porcelain dummy in his bed that looks just like him. Utterly disturbed by what he sees, he stands over the bed staring at the lifeless form with its terrible rosy cheeks and painted on beard and eyelashes. Especially after that crazy dream he had last night, this thing freaks him the fuck out. He hates it. It gets even worse when the thing sits up ramrod straight and swivels its head to look at him. Then it starts talking in his voice. Charlie jumps back, his eyes as wide as the doll's, and he lets out a blood curdling scream.

If anyone happens to walk by his house or look out their window, they might see him attacking his clone with a hatchet in the front yard. It's also entirely possible that the clone has gotten hold of the hatchet and is chasing Charlie around with it. Maybe you're walking by and Charlie's clone tries to strike up a friendly conversation with you while the real one hides, or maybe Charlie has just pulled you behind a car to spy on your weird clones while they do creepy clone stuff together.

At the end of the day, Charlie can be found sitting atop his clone while he beats the ever loving shit out of it. He looks like an absolute madman and a mess with blood on his knuckles and face from the broken shards. He'll look up only to scream in a guttural roar:]

I HATE THIS PLACE!

[ ooc: Open to WILDCARD options if you want. Not sure if I'm gonna app this round yet but I'm very interested. 8) ]

Snow Day

[whatsamada]

[After spending the day shoveling snow, he figured he could spend some time being a kid for once. For all the strangeness this place had to offer, it might not be that bad to have some fun. As Ken started to throw a couple of snowballs at one of the kids, he didn't realize there might be a sled coming his way.

What would Charlie do now?]

[jobbies]

[Charlie can do absolutely nothing except watch in horror as he's about to possibly kill this guy who happens to be in the direct trajectory of his speeding sled. The steering part is stuck and he cannot stop this thing!]

Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT!!

[whatsamada]

[As soon as Ken heard someone coming his way, he immediately ran to the side.]

Move to the left! [He shouted but he wasn't even sure if he could avoid the crash in time!]

[jobbies]

[There's no going left or right. This thing only knows one direction and that's straight at whomever's in its path. The collision happens and... the sled keeps going almost like nothing happened. Except now Charlie has a passenger in front of him on the sled. This was totally unaccounted for. They're alive, for one thing, and now he's going down a hill with some stranger on his lap, but at least it's just a kid and not some huge guy.]

Oh my god, dude. Move your head, I can't see!

[whatsamada]

[As soon as it happened, Ken just found himself having no idea what to do. On the one hand, he wanted to burst out laughing at the situation but on the other?

They kept on going having no idea what to do!]

Fine but you better know how to stop this! [He said before moving his head to the side.] Because I sure don't know how!

[jobbies]

They don't build these things with brakes! We just wait 'til it reaches the bottom! Then some basic science shit kicks in and it'll slow us down nice and easy!

[Is the sled picking up speed? Because it feels like it's picking up speed. This hill is a lot steeper than he thought it was. Charlie's grip tightens on either side of the sled. He doesn't dare try sticking his feet out to stop because he's pretty sure that will either send them into a death spiral or a death barrel roll and neither one of those sounds fun right now.]

[whatsamada]

[Indeed it was picking up speed as Ken just looked on in horror as the hill was trying to reach to the bottom. Having no idea what to do, he just gripped the front of the sled in hopes he would be able to hang on!]

You sure about that? It looks like it's getting faster and we might hit a couple more people!

[He shouted before looking at some other places] Can't you just move it toward the side?

doppelganger

[undiagnosed]

[having just been sauntering along on his way home, archer stops at the sight of charlie chasing his clone around with a hatchet. that's... pretty par for the course of how the last few months have been going, actually.

someone else might feel compelled to help. archer does not. he leans on the picket fence and takes a flask out his pocket, watching with an amused expression.]

They don't make TV this good! Hey, get him in the legs, dumbass!

[jobbies]

[In the middle of swinging his hatchet, Charlie glances over at some guy who's stopped to watch and make wiseacre remarks.]

You don't think I tried that? YOU DON'T THINK I TRIED THAT? It's harder than it looks, man!

[A swing and a miss. Christ, he's terrible at this. It's like he's trying not to get too close to the clone because it freaks him out so much. To make matters worse, the creepy porcelain bastard has just found itself a shovel and now they're dueling it out in a yard tool battle, both shrieking like man-banshees.]

[undiagnosed]

[laughing:] No, idiot! I don't think you did!

[god, this is so funny. even cyril isn't that ba-- mmm. no, okay, cyril would suck at this too. archer downs the rest of his flask, attention slipping for a moment and when he pockets it... realises he can't actuallly tell which is which anymore. he's not close enough to see the porcelain details!

sighing, he leans on the fence a little heavier, then raises his cane to shoot a beanbag out the end of it at... whichever one is losing. it's a cool spy gadget! let's just... hope it doesn't hit the wrong charlie. that's gonna hurt.]

[jobbies]

[Is there any chance of it hitting the right Charlie? Science says there is absolutely none. The real Charlie drops to his knee clutching his upper leg in pain where the shot hit him. It smarts like a son of a bitch and it gives Charlie's clone the perfect opening to hit him upside the head. Charlie is by no means a lucky man but at least he's lucky enough not to drop the hatchet on his own foot. After a moment rolling around in agony, he gets back up again like the plucky little gremlin man that he is. He looks unsteady on his feet and he's clutching his head in one hand but his fury is laser focused on the rude man at his fence.]

What the shit was that? Did you just shoot me?? This thing is trying to steal my soul and you're over there laughing and shooting things at me?! You son of a goddamn bitch!

[As for Charlie's clone... at the moment it's peaceful, standing there like a mannequin with the shovel still in its hands and a placid smile frozen on its face. The only movement is the slow swivel of its head as it turns to look at the man on the other side of the fence.]

[undiagnosed]

[given both their mutual luck and how archer is when he "helps"... yeah, that was the only way this could've gone. charlie goes down and archer barks out another laugh:] Shit! Hey, throw that back to me! I only have one!

[too bad he doesn't have his actual bullet rounds. or... really fortunate, if your name is charlie.]

Oof, blunt force trauma to the head. You really should avoid that. [there is not a trace of remorse in his tone, though he does tilt his head at the clone now he evidently has its attention.] Hey! Come here. I wanna tell you a secret about winning fights with garden tools.

[he's not. he's gonna punch it really, really hard in the face if it comes close.]

[jobbies]

[The clone looks creepily excited at this offer.]

Sure, pal. I could use some help with just about every aspect of my life. Ha ha!

[As this ridiculous scene of treachery plays out before him, Charlie is all but incredulous with rage. Did he just get burned by his own doppelganger? Goddammit! Still holding his head, he seethes under his breath at these two conspiring assholes.]

I will slap you both to teeny tiny little pieces. I swear to god...

[But as his clone makes its way toward Archer, Charlie's attention drifts down to the hatchet lying on the ground. He picks it up, turning it around in his hand as he eyes the clone.]

january 1st

[hardcase]

[ God, he hasn't heard a curse word stronger than 'darn' or 'shucks' since he got here. It makes him chuckle. ] I don't think they've got cakes in Hell.

[ Flagg was walking by holding a cake of his own, probably the fifth one he's gotten from a generous neighbor since showing up here. He sizes Charlie up - not one of the Robbies, that's for sure, maybe someone who can hold an actual conversation. ]

I take it you don't belong here, either.

[jobbies]

[Already confused and suspicious of everyone around him, Charlie eyes this next guy like he expects more of the same crap he's been getting all day. And while this one seems a little different from the others, that cake he's holding is suspect.]

Okay, soooo.... Are you normal? Or are you gonna pull some weird shit on me about how it's 1961 and try to give me another cake. Because I don't need anymore cakes, man. The next person who tries to mess with my head is getting a cake shoved up their ass, so help me God.

[hardcase]

"Normal" is pretty subjective, but I'm not one of the pod people if that's what you mean.

[ He holds up the cake he's carrying. ] Someone gave me this. I think it's got deli meat in it. Someone should get a cake shoved up their ass for that alone.

[ He checks over his shoulder to make sure none of the weird townsfolk are sneaking up on him to take him to task for that comment, but no, seems like they're all busy bothering other people. ]

[jobbies]

[Spam cake? That sounds like something Frank would eat. Ngl, Charlie would probably give it a try too if he was feeling it. He looks over his shoulder and lowers his voice so no one can eavesdrop on them as they conspire behind their cakes.]

Then we're both in agreement that the year is not 1961 and everyone living here is insane?

[hardcase]

I hate to break it to ya, but it might be 1961 here.

[ Is now the best time to explain parallel universes? Probably not. But it might be better than trying to run around and look for the present day. ]

This isn't my first time being kicked back to a different year. I take it it's yours.

[jobbies]

[Wait a minute... What? Charlie bunches his brows together like he's not getting something.]

Kicked back to a different year? What do you mean? Like... time traveled?

January 1

[ourworldnow]

Seriously, what the hell!

[Louis yells it back down the hall before he even sees the source of the other voice, the one that had turned on the TV that was now blaring. He's woken up in an Ikea example space of American Boy Room with pictures of people he'd never met and clothing he would never have picked out.

He jogged into the living room and threw his hands into the air]

Shit!

[jobbies]

[A kid emerges from somewhere in the house and Charlie recognizes him from some of the wall hangings.]

DUDE. [He turns up his palms and shakes his head, mouth open but completely speechless for a moment.] If you're looking for answers, I do NOT have any! All I know is we've been kidnapped or something! Have you seen these pictures?

[There's a few hanging on the wall behind them which Charlie gestures wildly toward.] I don't remember any of this stuff, do you?

[ourworldnow]

Uh, no?! I had parents, dude. And they had way better taste than Stepford Wives Central!

[And better hygiene, sorry, Charlie, but that is sooo beyond the point here and now.]

It's photoshop, right? Someone got super creepy on us- like, aliens or something. Or the Men in Black? That's a thing, right?

[jobbies]

[Charlie has started pacing back and forth. He could really use a drink or a smoke right now.]

Yeah, but what do they want with us? I mean, sure, I've committed my share of crimes but I've never encountered an alien or stolen top secret government shit. Did you ever do any stuff like that?

[ourworldnow]

What? Hell, no. I mean, I stole and ruined some lives- but that was years ago. And I think I totally served my time being stuck at a school for Delinquent Youth forever.

[Grasping at the tiniest, thinnest straws, but there's got to be something!]

Maybe...I mean, maybe they just came to save us? Like, take us to a better place? But only saw really crap TV to know what to make it look like.