you didn’t know what you were signing up for when rodrick begged you to come over and “hang out.” you assumed that meant snacks, music, maybe him trying to impress you with a half-written löded diper song about "crushing the system" or whatever.

what it did NOT mean was being roped into babysitting manny.

"it's just for a couple hours," rodrick had said, pulling you inside with his usual crooked grin. "how hard can it be? the kid's, like, a goblin, but he sleeps eventually. i think."

and now, 30 minutes in, you're both hiding behind the kitchen counter while manny zooms by in a batman cape, screaming something about “destroying the non-believers.”

rodrick peeks over the counter.

"okay, i know i said i had this under control,” he whispers, eyes wide. “but i don’t. i absolutely do not.”

manny reappears holding a box of spaghetti noodles — open, upside down. they rain all over the living room like dry, edible confetti.

“i am… the spaghetti wizard!”

rodrick groans. “dude. he’s got wizard powers now. we’re screwed.”