Three days.

It took somebody to notice us on top of that Ferris wheel three, fucking, days. Three days of uninterrupted sun beaming down on us. Three days of having to eat Hayden's jacket to survive. Three days of fending off waves of radioactive flyquitos, violent radioactive abominations created from the unholy confirmation between a mosquito and a fly after the mosquito drank the blood of the city's homeless drunk and stumbled upon the wrong trash can.

Dear reader, we had to lick the sweat off each other to conserve water. And believe me, it's not as sexy as it sounds. By day two, I was more salt than people. Hayden, of course, tried to use his sweat as a vinaigrette for the jacket, but that just attracted more flyquitos. The couple in the cart in front of us didn't last a day before resorting to light cannibalism, nibbling each other's fingers every few hours. Sadly, the girl had anxiety munchies, so she resorted to using her boyfriend's fingernails as faux chewing gum. When that didn't work, she chewed on his gums.

By the end of day three, we were exhausted, heatstroke, dehydrated, and dizzy. Lucky for us, a drone manned by a legal firm representing the Disney corporation happened to fly by us to assess the extent of their copyright infringement. Apparently, Disney now owns the concept of fairs and carnivals. Star Wars, and now this. Is there anything they don't own?

After pledging our loyalty to the kind of Mouses by sacrificing our false idol, we were helped down. And just in time, for the couple in front of us were already eating part of their calves and were in the process of splitting one eye like an olive. They still ate it when they were helped down. I think they just developed a taste. Humans, after all, taste like sweet pork.

I feel like shit, both inside and outside. But, of course, what I believe to be a pretty severe dehydration/sunburn wombo-combo turns into something very, very different after some nifty bad boys genes and some plot armor are applied to it. Thus...

"yo, that tan bussin," says Brayden, flicking a coin while leaning on a random locker like a K-drama mafioso. Wait, I misspoke. It isn't a coin, but a Pokemon pog. "and your skin is so terse and shiny. where you get it?"

"We were stuck in a Ferris wheel for three days," says Hayden, who now had a sweet-tempered chocolate shine.

"cool, cool," says the twerp. "jungkook, can you put 'getting stranded on a ferris wheel' on my calendar? gotta get my beach bod ready."

The pair of beefers are in a corner opposite to us, fiddling with something or other on a small device mounted to the ceiling. On close inspection, it seems like a camera. On a less-than-close inspection, it's an iPhone duct-taped to the ceiling on an angle. At least they got a better resolution than whatever the hell banks and convenience stores use.

"Got it, boss!" says Jungkook, while Harry swaps the microSD of the iPhone with another.

"Didn't you find it weird that we missed three days of school?" I ask Brayden.

"bitch, i ain't your babysitter. i already have two wawas to take care of."

"He feeds us Flaming Hot Cheetos mac & cheese!" adds Harry. "It's fucking poggers."

"and besides, you whores never ask me what's up with my life when i miss classes. never ask me about my hopes, or aspirations, or my secret underground fight club for mythical creatures."

"We don't have your phone number, brother," says Hayden. "You told me, and I quote: y'all too basic for my digits."

"damn right you are," says Brayden with a smirk. God, I hope that pog reaches terminal velocity and breaks his skull in two. He turns towards Harry and Jungkook. "you two, got a pic?"

Jungkook, who is checking something on a small laptop, shakes his head violently. I didn't think he had a neck to do that in the first place.

"I take it this is your setup to live stream the club battle royale thingy," I add. I can see a bunch of other iPhones stuck between lockers, on doors, and at every corner. I don't know how much money he's expecting to make, but I don't think it is cost-effective to put 1k of equipment at every corner.

"yes and no," says Brayden. He takes out his phone and scrolls down on Twitter until he sees a post from the school newspaper. Great, again pushing out some lame plot point. The tweet reads: SCOOP: We are placing a bounty of 50$ for any photo of the mysterious 'Locker Lich' reported to be seen around the school."

Ah. That guy. Kinda forgot about him. Seems like another weird plot point that was somehow dropped as soon as it was introduced. So far, this season has been kinda sloppy. "So, you're wasting at least 29000$ in iPhones to capture a photo of a 'Locker Lich' for 50$."

"Brother, I know math isn't your forte, but I think you're spending too much money for a measly 50$. You're a millionaire."

Brayden scoffs at us before snatching the pog mid-fall. Or at least he tries. What actually happens is that he slaps it across the hallway, making it slide under one of the oldest lockers around. I wonder how many other pogs, tazos, fidget-spinners and other useless nic nacs have fallen under that particular locker. A time capsule of fads. That's a horror story in itself.

"first of all, i'm a billionaire. second, you gotta spend money to make money, and that's a rule. third, i ain't doing this for fiddy bucks. i wanna capture the ghoul for my ultimate magic championship. it's a new monster, for fuck's sake! find me another wattpad story with a locker lich. what's even a lich, anyways?"

"A magic zombie," I say.

"No, that's a ghoul," says Hayden. "A ghoul is made from magic and has thought and conscience. A lich is a powerful sorcerer that makes himself undead and has consciousness and magic power."

"so, a magic zombie," says Brayden. "so, wait, is a mummy a zombie?"

"A mummy is actually magic zombie," adds Jungkook. "If it's magic, it's a mummy. If it has consciousness, it's a ghoul. If it has magic and consciousness, it's a lich. If if has nothing, it's a zombie."

"Wow, how do you know so much, brother?" asks Harry.

"I'm a streamer. I have useless knowledge that I never get to use."

"so... magic zombie," says Brayden.

"Yes, magic zombie," I say.

"glad we could reach a consensus," says Brayden. "were was i? ah, yeah, fourd point-"

"That's not a word, brother."

"-i wanna turn this into a trial run of sort. ya know, seeing blind spots and shit. gettin' everything ready for the tournament."

"Has there been any word on that? We are like, what, 20 chapters deep this season, and I haven't heard jack shit about it."

Of course, the second I say that, I hear jack all about it. About fifteen phones from different people go off around me, including Hayden's. For those curious enough, his ringtone is Chili's "Baby Back Ribs" medley, but it never reaches the "Rib" part. It gets stuck in an infinite loop of "I Want My Baby Back Baby Back Baby Back" over and over again.

"Round 1 of the School Club Battle Royale will begin Tomorrow, Saturday, 3 PM @ Founder's Park. Password: Bombodichuslian."

"wait, the tournament won't be at the school?!" yells Brayden. "god, dammit! jungkook, harry, grab the cameras and run to the park! hide them wherever you can!"

The two egg-people give a curt nod and begin to waddle from corner to corner. Of course, since they are so round and their head is as big as a yoga ball, they can't raise their arms above shoulder height. This is gonna take them a while.

"Well, guess we have ourselves a tournament," says Hayden. "I want you all tomorrow at two on location. Brayden, I want you there at eleven. I know you like to be fashionably late, so I hope that by giving you ample time to arrive you will do the right thing and get your butt there before we are disqualified."

"cool beans."

He's gonna be totally late.

"Okay, that takes care of us. Where's Okayden?" asks Hayden.

"dunno, haven't seen him in a few days. thought he was with you two, on some magic adventure or whatever you plebs do when daddy is not around."

"Again, we don't appear for three days and you just... accept it?" I ask.

"look, i'm not a dog-sitter, and i don't meddle in the affairs of couples. daddy only cares about daddy."

"Have you looked in the library?" asks Hayden. "He's always there, brooding."

"the fuck's a library?"

"It's like a physical Wattpad without the fanfics or smuts," I say.

"that sounds like something virgins would like. unlike wattpad readers, who are chads with 12 inch roosters."

You know what? Fuck it. I'll take a look myself. Kids today, don't even know a library. All they know is be bisexual, eat takis, mfilm tik-tok dances, and... hmmm, weird.

I could've sworn that this here door led to a library. Instead, there is nothing. And I don't mean "there was a room and now the room was empty." No. There is nothing. A vast emptiness. An existential void. A glitch in the universe. The backrooms of the backrooms. Like, when there's a texture missing in a videogame and there is but a white, offputting nothingness?

Yeah, that.

I think we are in trouble.