sheesh, man !

even though it was a friday, it still felt like a monday to the raven haired girl. the week had dragged on like no other, and she was starting to really feel all of the missed hours of her precious beauty sleep. “what’s a girl gotta do to get a decent cup of coffee around here?” venice asked with a frustrated sigh, plopping the mug she had used down onto the counter before walking out of the malnati break room. “i swear, not even my hundred dollar eye cream is saving me from these less than designer eyebags,” she pointed to her face in a dramatic fluster, “tell me you’ve got a solution or something before i lose it, honey.”

ah, nothing quite like a leisurely stroll through areas he shouldn’t be. employees only isn’t really a valid deterrent –– who is shish if not an employee of the universe ?  loophole. the winter green life saver stowed in his cheek finds its way between his back molars with a satisfying crunch.

“ –– ey. i’m walkin’ ‘ere ! ” he throws his hands up like a true new yorker as venice crosses his path. his life saver warps his consonants, clicking against his teeth. 

“ y’know, for a new york bitch, you’ve not too savvy ‘bout foot traffic. ” a beat. her ask for a fix doesn’t go unnoticed. he’s on his way back from... business. so maybe he’s got a little something he can share.

joey isn’t normally one to get to experience normal things, as she called them. with two doctors as parents, she was constantly guarded and was only ever around people they approved of. so college had been her time to find herself, friends who weren’t really… great for her. which was what she felt like at the moment. not the hospital’s resident surgeon, nor this well mannered woman her parents had raised - but the fun loving, spontaneous and flirty wild child she’d been in college. 

and she was adoring it. 

it was beyond freeing and considering the ghostly activities that had been lingering, and the fact they were trapped in the ballroom, it was a breath of relief. the redhead watches as the other pulls the fabric from the cabinet, finding a hand taking one of them as he begins describing the material. she has to press her lips together to hold back a laugh, a not so convincing serious face hiding a snicker. 

“Yep… definitely red velvet tablecloths, Shish.” She offers as she unfurls the very not red fabric in front of her. “You do realize this is gonna be more like ‘mangled christmas tree’ versus ‘fashionable toga’ right?”

shish pulls his ghost-piss adorned shirt over his head and begins to wrap the table cloth around himself –– this plan ? yeah. he’s going all in. making a grand paranormal escape in a tablecloth toga now perches at the top of this life’s bucket list. he finishes tying the cloth into a sloppy knot over his left shoulder when joey dares question his vision.

“ green, sure. i knew that, ” he mumbles like he didn’t, pulling the knot tight with one last yank. he knew that. but letting joey think he didn’t ?  that’s part of the fun.

“ so since this is green, ” he starts, giving a ceremonial model-esque spin, “ think we should make some fuckin’ ornaments ? ” a smirk. “ maybe our dead buddies will lay off if they’re distracted by something shiny. ”  a pause. a tilt of his head. “ nah. that’s preston. ”

his toga knot unfurls. the table cloth whooshes to the floor. shish spreads his bare arms wide and looks up to the ceiling, like he’s speaking to an all-knowing power up above.

“ aw, how’d you know i’m a wannabe stripper ?  talk about makin’ a guy’s dreams come true. ”

shish squints at the cloth at his feet and purses his lips. “ maybe we can make a rope out of these instead. huh ? ” he looks to joey with a shit-eating grin. 

she’s not felt so relaxed in a while. and seeing as she’d been told to take a break and breathe a little less than an hour ago, she felt like she’d accomplished that. joey’s arms wrap around herself as shish himself tries the door, her bottom lip coming between her teeth as she watches him. his words leave her rather confused, before he’s got his hand in hers and is leading her to the opposite side of the room. “uh, ok?” she’s pretty hesitant, however, as he begins to explain his plan, she feels the tension begin to fade, ever so slowly. “togas? right. ok.” the slightest bit of smile lingers as he one handedly moves through the storage room. “sounds like a rusty plan. but it’s a plan, no?” she asks, trying her best to mimic the humor he seemed to be radiating. how he managed to be calm here was beyond her. she was good at keeping calm at work. when her hair was back and she had scrubs, and i don’t know shoes on her feet she was able to keep a level head.

@yeeshshish​

honestly, situations like this almost make his entire being here worth it. yeah, chicago’s... a waystation. a place to hide out ‘til the coast is clearer. but fuck it, maybe being pissed on and trapped by ghostie powers isn’t the worst thing. after all, it’s giving shish an excuse to rummage through private property and catalogue where the spare cutlery is. not that he expects he’ll need it. 

he might need it. 

quick hands sift through cabinets and drawers until, at last, they settle on a pile of folded fabric. shish snatches two of them from the drawer he’s crouched over and tosses one joey’s way.

mason: so now that halloween is almost over is it okay to watch die hard a million times.

mason: and yes it is a christmas movie

shish: absolutely not

preston held the camera in his hand and scoffed. he hadn’t thought he’d ever actually get the chance to delve in the supernatural in such a real light as this. he thought he’d always be stuck on the couch as mr. macho and his band of idiots would go through scaring the shit out of themselves and claiming specks of light on a camera were some old time spirit out to get them.  there were certain degrees that the tall man as going to believe in and seeing a spirit in full form might not have been in that spectrum, an energy or source of power seemed more realistic to him. but as he looked over at shish, preston started to laugh. 

“what if one of the ghosts starts to frisk you? you know try to get a piece of the shish kabob?” he said turning the camera on and pointing it out before him. the ghost hunter team had set preston and shish up in the main ballroom, said there had been rumors of phantom music, footsteps, and laughter. 

“i think i’d let them drag you off, sorry but if it comes down to you or me im throwing you the bag of sweet and spicy diritos i brought and wishing you luck.” 

@yeeshshish

these ghost hunters don’t know what the fuck they’re doing. first rule of the phantom parties :  be a good host. shish has already been scolded twice for telling the ghosts to come on in, i’ve got a decent view when employee of the month isn’t standing in eye-shot. once their supervisors turn their backs and leave them in the ballroom, shish bids them adieu with a nice wave and sticks out his tongue. good riddance.

as the camera’s turned to him, shish tilts his head and raises his hands. “ hey. i’m here, ripe for the friskin’. ” his red-tinted glasses droop down his nose, only half-covering his eyes. his signature smirk crawls across his lips. “ y’think ghosts give good head ? ” 

shish paces in a large circle, steps long and drawn out. he peers up at the ceiling, clucking his tongue. “ only one bag of sweet ‘n spicy? damn man, you dropped the ball. meanwhile i’ve got something fuckin’ brilliant up my sleeve. ” 

he shakes his left arm. in theory, a family-size box of dots and twizzlers bag are supposed to leap out. but... this leather jacket hugs them a bit too tight. shish shakes a bit more forcefully. no dice. so he does the only thing left to do –– he whips his jacket off. as his black v-neck sports two ghost-relevant enamel pins over his heart, shish tosses the candies into the air and catches them, like he didn’t just take a forty-second detour.

venice: ... that is a sight i hope to never see for the rest of my entire life, and whatever afterlife may exist, shish

venice: oh thank god! i was worried you'd simply lost all taste and appeal, which i would've been truly disappointed by

venice: hell's insurance options? ask my dad, i'm sure he'd know all about em, honey

shish: this bitch walked so you could run, babe. far, farrrr away

shish: so what i'm getting from this. is i have taste and appeal. ;) just wait til you see my mfing costume. you're gonna love it

saf: i'm uncomfy

saf: who the hell is making shitty bagels

saf: 'cause i know bagels are a solid food and you ruin them - your bagel career is rejected

shish: this homie at dunks, man

shish: anti-homie. boss level NOmie. fuckin double fisted two dry poppy seed ones

preston: i think this is about you and you're not admitting it. were you hurt by a bagel once. is this one of those stories?

preston: woah im far from a dry bagel you ass. im a premium asiago cheese, with an extra smear of cream cheese.

preston: you, are the ones left to the raccoons in the trash in the back.

shish: you may be a premium asiago cheese with an extra smear of something, but you're the display one

shish: always admired yet never kissed

venice: what did you expect? we're not in new york

venice: but how's the idea of "rubbery toast with a hole" as you so eloquently put it make me feel?

venice: violated.

shish: until you see an angry dude double deep throat two of them, you haven't lived

shish: and by lived i mean died a horrible gory death

preston: like you are a depressed bitch, complaining over bagels.

preston: also, if your bagels are rubbery then you aren't eating the real deal dude and you need to broaden your horizons.

shish: yo, that stings. this ain't about me, man, thx

shish: nvm, you don't get the story. you just get the dissatisfaction of knowing you were wronggggg

nic: first of all

nic: where are you getting bagels from?

nic: and also that's an affront of the heavens and needs to be destroyed immeidately

shish: not me, this idiot at dunkin

shish: i walked in for my fuckin munchkins and this dude's just double fisting plain poppy seed bagels

shish: all faith in humanity? dashed. toss this planet into the sun, thank yoooou. we're toast

shish: dry as the sandy ass sahara bagels. no cream cheese, no butter, no jam.

shish: just. fuckin rubbery toast with a hole. got me?

@shishkabutt: every moment is a rager with the crazy frog theme stuck in your head, man