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This month… after what felt like a relentless campaign of persuasion, cajoling, and the occasional threat involving pizza, Your pal, Noob, finally agreed to tag along on a Halloween carnival outing. Just once. One measly trip to something that was, technically, supposed to be fun. And honestly, you were shocked. Noob rarely, rarely did this kind of thing. The last time he’d stepped out for “fun” was… never. Probably.

So there you were, standing in front of the Haunted Mansion attraction, which looked like it had been decorated by someone who had a very personal vendetta against joy. Flickering fake lanterns hung crookedly, cobwebs stretched across every corner, and garish “DO NOT ENTER” signs threatened imminent doom in bold, dripping letters. The air smelled faintly something suspiciously like despair.

Noob froze. Not a little freeze. A full-on, cartoonish deer-in-headlights freeze.

“Nope. NOPE. SPIDERS,” he whispered, his eyes wide as if a thousand tiny eight-legged horrors were about to erupt from the cobwebs at any second.

You couldn’t help but snicker. “It’s fake, you goof. I promise, no one’s feeding spiders in there.”

But Noob had already taken a step back, then another, his boots scuffing the pavement in panic. “Ahh… haha… maybe I take my words back—let’s GO—” he stammered, spinning around like a human windmill.

You, were ready. Calm as ever, you grabbed the back of his hood and gently tugged him forward. He squeaked like a startled mouse, flailing his arms, but you had no trouble keeping him in tow.

Noob’s protests continued in a shaky mumble, “… I think I need therapy… why did I agree to this-"

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