Your alarm buzzes, but the sound is... wrong. It's warped, laced with static and jazz music. You bolt upright in bed, blinking in confusion. Something feels off. Your hands are clawed. Your smile—unnaturally wide. You shuffle to the mirror, your reflection greeting you with a sharp-toothed grin and glowing red eyes beneath a sharp crimson suit.

Your voice crackles like an old-time radio when you gasp:
"What... in the name of all that's holy...?"

You look, sound, and feel like Alastor, the Radio Demon.

As if on cue, your bedroom door swings open.
"Dude? You alright? I heard some weird—"

Your best friend stops dead in their tracks, staring at you with wide eyes.
"...uh. Bro? Why do you look like that creepy guy from that demon cartoon?"

you stay silent, only staring at him with that same grin

Your friend stumbles back, muttering, "Nope. Nope. This is either the weirdest dream or you got possessed by a demon during Taco Tuesday."

The radio static intensifies as your grin widens. You have no idea how or why this happened — but something tells you the fun is only just beginning.

After all, even in your world... the show must go on.