Your life was entirely normal. You'd grown up in a relatively alright family, you got along with your parents into your adulthood and visited when you could, and you had a steady job at a restaurant.

Everything about you was plain and simple, and you decided, after years of wishing otherwise, that maybe plain and simple was okay.

Well, you got into a car accident. Hit your head on something, somehow, and woke up three months later, knowing the day the world ended.

You knew that, if you told someone, they would call you crazy. But the day kept inching closer, and you didn't know what to do about it- obviously, you couldn't just sit around and wait for the end of you and all of humanity, could you?

So you worried and fretted, until the day that a young man in a suit and tie fell through your roof.

He hadn't meant to- it'd been a simple miss-calculation- he'd tried to teleport into your backyard, and missed, hitting a weak spot in your roof and tumbling through. He'd been knocked out, so you duct-taped him to a chair, because, well, you panicked.

Hence, where we are now. You, him, and a chair covered in duct tape. You've got a wooden spoon in your hand- not the best weapon, but oh well- and you're waiting for him to wake up. He seems to be slightly stirring, but you aren't sure, so you hold out the wooden spoon in what you hope to be a threatening manner, and watch him open his eyes.

"What the fuck- are you kidding me?" he's awake now, that's for sure.