Mischievous Function

I Got the Hockety-Hockey Tickets!

That night, at the hotel...

CRASH!

"I GOT THE HOCKETY-HOCKEY TICKETS!"

Lightning, Marker, and Yellow Face all flinched and covered their ears as Toilet burst into the room holding up a stack of tickets with a stupidly huge smile, his jovial screech echoing through the bedroom. "Oh, my cloud," Lightning groaned, throwing a pillow at Toilet's face. "Do you really have to be so loud all the time? Also, how...how did you even bypass the hotel's keycard lock, what the f—"

Toilet caught the pillow and chucked it at Marker, head-shotting him. "SECURITY IS A SOCIAL CONSTRUCT!"

He counted out four tickets and slammed them on top of the dresser next to the TV. "AWRIGHT!" he said, turning toward the bathroom. "YELLOW FACE, GIVE THIS ONE TO ROCKY! IMMA GO GIVE THE OTHER FOUR TICKETS OUT! GOOD NIGHT!"

CRASH!

"Wait, Toilet, that's the bathroom," Yellow Face said, getting up from where he was writing in his business ledger at the desk and following him. "The door's over there!"

"I KNOW!"

Just as Yellow Face was about to turn the corner into the bathroom, he heard a flushing noise from inside. He peered through the Toilet-shaped hole in the plastic sliding bathroom door to find that Toilet was suddenly gone.

"Wh...whuh?!"

——————————

Splash!

"OH! 'ELLO, PILLOW!"

Pillow took a moment to turn away from where she was washing some red liquid off her hands down the sink and waved. "Ah! Hello, Toilet!" she greeted as he climbed out.

"I GOT THE HOCKETY-HOCKEY TICKETS!" he told her. "IMMA PUT THEM NEXT TA YA TEE-VEE!"

"Thanks, Toilet!"

When Toilet started walking toward the bathroom door, Pillow held her arm out in front of him. "Ah! Allow me," she said with a curtsy before turning and walking toward the bathroom door.

CRASH!

"HOLY—WHAT THE HECK?!" a fearful voice screeched from the bedroom.

"WHY, THANK YOU, PILLOW!" Toilet walked through the Pillow-shaped hole in the bathroom door and headed for the TV, holding up the tickets. "EVERYONE, I GOT THE HOCKETY-HOCKEY TICKETS!"

Gaty groaned and covered her ears, flinching and nearly dropping the book she was reading at the sudden disruption. "Um...okay," she muttered with a roll of her eyes. On the other bed, Remote shrugged before slipping back under the covers. At the desk, Pie barely even spared Toilet a glance before turning back to her bank blueprints.

"WHERE'S BARF BAG AND SPONGY?"

"Not in this room. They're most likely in separate rooms, actually."

"...OH."

Toilet turned back toward the bathroom, but paused when Gaty called out, "Hey, Toilet. Just leave Barf Bag and Spongy's tickets here with me; they're probably sleeping already, so I'll just give them to them in the morning."

"AWRIGHT!" Toilet swiveled around, slammed two tickets on the dresser, and continued back toward the bathroom to give out the remaining two tickets.

——————————

"All right, that should do it."

"Thanks!"

Microphone waved goodbye to the delivery person and watched them walk off for a bit before her eyes drifted away to gaze at the night sky. "Wow..." she thought. "Not as pretty as the view back in YC, but it's still not bad."

After a while, she turned to the two somewhat large cardboard boxes sitting next to the door. She hummed to herself in thought for a moment before picking up one of the boxes and placing it on top of the other. Then, she crouched, wedged her fingers under the bottom box, and attempted to lift the moderately heavy stack of boxes.

She struggled for several seconds, but after many pained grunts and breaths, she finally managed to get them up to a comfortable level. Microphone slowly shuffled toward the hotel's front door and started to make her way to the elevator, passing a few concerned students in the lobby along the way.

It felt like forever, but she finally managed to spot the silver doors of the elevator after turning the corner to the hallway. Now she just had to figure out how she would press the button; her arms couldn't hold the boxes up in the air for much longer.

"That looks heavy. Need help?"

Microphone's eyes instantly shut and she let out a slow, seething huff upon hearing that horrible familiar voice. She shook her head and grunted, "No. I got it."

"You don't look like you got it," Knife argued, reaching for the top box. When Mic flinched and stepped away from him, he sighed. "Come on. I'll help you."

"I'm fine, Knife," she repeated, this time in a more frustrated tone. "I don't need you."

"Mic, you're sweating," Knife pointed out, irritated. "Don't be stubborn. How long have you been carrying—"

"It doesn't matter," she cut in, her voice dripping with malice. She managed to look over her shoulder at him and shot him a death glare, gritting her teeth. "Leave me alone."

Knife sighed and glanced down the hallway, feeling too awkward to make eye contact with her. Before she could stop him, he leaned forward to press the elevator button, walked in front of her, and gripped both sides of the top box. "Look," he offered, "I'll just help you get them to your room, all right? Then I'll go, and you—"

"FUCK OFF, KNIFE!"

Her words, loudly announced and unrestrained, echoed through the elevator hallway and throughout the lobby. Most of the entire first floor turned dead silent as everyone in the lobby swiveled around to stare awkwardly at the source of the swear. Just the act of yelling had surprised the both of them enough that Microphone had accidentally dropped both of the boxes, which had been perhaps less than an inch away from smashing her toes.

But she couldn't care less at the moment. Her glare was fixated on Knife's surprised and hurt expression and she was reveling in the pain that she was evidently causing him. Knife was frozen, speechless, and unsure what to make of what had just happened.

Soon, however, he realized that he wasn't wanted and let out a low, soft sigh before nodding. "Okay. I'm sorry, Microphone."

"It's a bit too late for that, isn't it?" she hissed, balling her fists and furrowing her eyebrows.

They both stared at each other for several more moments before Knife turned back toward the lobby and left without a word. Microphone stared after him for a bit before turning back to her boxes and stacking one on top of the other again.

Ding.

Just as she was about to lift both boxes at once again, the elevator doors parted to reveal Dot looking down at her phone. She walked forward and almost bumped into the boxes, but flinched backward in the nick of time. "Whoa, sorry," she said in a distracted tone before she noticed Mic's face out of the corner of her eye. "Oh, Mic! Hey!"

Microphone nodded and waved back. "Hey, Dot. How's that song coming?"

"Good, good," she replied. "Hey, uh, Toilet told me to give you these?" Dot reached into her pocket and held out the remaining two hockey tickets.

Mic took one glance at them and shook her head. "Tell him to keep them. We're not going."

Dot arched an eyebrow and gave her a skeptical look. "Are you sure? They've got your names on them and everything. By the way, have you seen—"

"Then throw them away or whatever, I don't care," Mic replied before attempting to heave the boxes back up. "I said we're not going."

"Uh...okay, sure, I guess." Dot slipped the tickets back into her pocket. "I'll tell him. Hey, do you need help with those? They look heavy."

Microphone pulled her fingers out from where they had been trapped underneath the bottom box and took a step backward, placing her hands on her hips with a sigh. After thinking for a second, she nodded to Dot and gestured for her to take the top box.

"Sure, thanks. We're just taking them to my room."