Chapter #5Just a prank, bro! by: Unknown Out of nowhere an idea pops into your head. An evil idea. An idea so evil you just had to do it. Practically skipping out to the garage you quickly begin digging through an old box of Halloween stuff, searching for the costume you wore to Michelle's party last year. Shoving aside a pile of plastic pumpkins you strike paydirt, a bright orange convict outfit and black prison slippers to go with it. Changing out of your normal clothes and into the costume you check yourself in the mirror. You frown, the costume not as convincing nor as frightening as you remembered. The serial numbers printed on the shirt were a tacky #000666, the orange color was a bit too bright and shiny compared to the real deal, and overall it was just... missing something.
Searching around the garage for nothing specific you stumble across your dad's old metal working tools. An airplane mechanic by trade your dad had plenty of tools from arc welders to industrial shears, and while most of it had been sold off after he died to take care of whatever bills the life insurance didn't cover a few pieces remained, such as his welding mask and gloves. Picking up the heavy black mask and thick brown gloves, both stained extensively with grease and scorch marks, you smiled. "I know you don't like me touching your work equipment, but seeing as how you're not using it any time soon I hope you don't mind if I borrow some of it for a little bit." You slip the gloves on and pull the mask over your face, checking the mirror again. Better, but still not good enough.
You're about to go looking around some more when you realize what you're looking for is LITERALLY in your hands. Holding up the longsword you set to work, the fine blade carving clean through the fabric of your costume and the flesh beneath. You slice one sleeve off right at the shoulder, making sure to nick and scrape your arm along the way to draw blood. You tear gashes into your pant legs, stabbing into the flesh beneath and exposing the muscles in your leg for added effect. Finally for the coup de grace you stab the blade deep into the left side of your gut, then pull a few handfuls of intestines out which you dangle like the chain of a pocket watch down to your thigh. You check the mirror.
Bleeding like a stuck pig, dressed in huge gloves and a mask that obscured your eyes, weilding a giant sword dripping with blood, you looked like a perfect dime-store slasher villain. You were ready. Walking into the house you begin wheezing profusely, dragging one foot along the floor in a fake limp. You made it all the way down the hall to the base of the stairs before you heard her. "John? Is something wrong?" Your sister Jenna calls out from her room.
In response you give a loud retching cough and begin climbing up the stairs, making sure to stomp your feet as hard as you can for added effect. "John seriously, what's up?" She asked, worry entering her voice as you refuse to say anything. As you reach the top of the stairs she opens the door to her room. "John would you just-" she sees you. The look on her face is absolutely priceless. Eyes wide as saucers, jaw dropping like a sack of bricks, every muscle pulling backwards as though trying to escape her head and run on their own. You wish you'd thought to record this. "EEEEEAAAAAAAGGGHHHH!" She screams, stumbling backwards and falling flat onto her ass with all her limbs flailing in different directions.
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