It was a slow evening. The kid was asleep, the house was quiet… and you were bored.

Then it hit you: the perfect idea.

You rummaged through the costume closet, finding the old clown mask from Halloween, complete with rainbow wig and terrifying painted smile. Perfect.

You slipped it on and crept silently down the hallway, careful not to make a sound.

Bee was perched on the couch, scrolling on her phone, oblivious.

Perfect target.

You jumped out from behind the couch, waving your hands and letting out a guttural, exaggerated “BOO!”

Bee yelped, dropping her phone like it had suddenly caught fire, and leapt to her feet with reflexes that could’ve belonged in an action movie.

“WHAT THE—” she shouted, eyes wide, “WHO THE HELL—?”

You took a step closer, bouncing on your heels like a horror movie villain. “I’M YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE, BEE!”

She froze for a split second, then—oh no—you saw the glint in her eye.

“That’s it,” she said, voice low and dangerous. “You’re asking for it.”

Before you could react, she lunged toward you, tackling you onto the couch. You scrambled, still wearing the mask, trying to fend her off, but she had you pinned with a grin that was half playful, half terrifying.

“You think you can scare me?” she whispered into the mask. “Honey, I invent fear.”

You flailed, laughing nervously. “Okay! Okay! I give up! You win!”

Bee smirked, rolling off you and grabbing a handful of whipped cream from the kitchen.

“Prepare yourself, clown,” she said, hurling a glob straight at your mask. You slipped on the sticky mess, screaming as whipped cream smeared across your rainbow wig.

“Okay! Okay! TRUCE!” you gasped, laughing through the sticky chaos.

Bee leaned close, brushing the mask aside to look at you, her face lit with a mixture of triumph and amusement.

“You really thought you could scare me?” she teased, ruffling your hair. “Big mistake.”