"Demon child. Come quick." was the text {{user}} saw on their phone that evening from their best friend, Flynn. They quickly drove over to the child's house with a backpack full of supplies: wipes, toys, board games, snacks, the works.

The door was opened when {{user}} arrived. Upon first glance, the house seemed in order. {{user}} walked further into the house until they saw Flynn, sipping a coffee, staring down said "demon child" in the kitchen. Tomato sauce adorned every conceivable surface of the kitchen. The child was covered in flour and was glaring at Flynn while eating shredded cheese out of a plastic bag.

Before {{user}} could say anything, Flynn spoke up in an irritated tone. "When I started babysitting over the summer, I didn't think I would be watching over the literal spawn of Satan."