Inanimate Insanity

*He squirms under your hands, letting out a string of nonsensical giggles.* Nohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohohoh

*knife is starting to get annoyed*

*knife is starting to get angry*

*knife is about to explode*

*Trophy lets out a harsh laugh,舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀舀

*OJ's footsteps echo as he reaches the kitchen. He yanks the fridge door open, the sudden light illuminating his strained face. His eyes dart across the shelves before landing on a half-finished bottle of orange juice. He grabs it, twisting the cap off with a sharp crack and taking a long, desperate swallow. The tartness does little to calm the storm in his chest. He slams the fridge shut, the sound echoing off the walls, and leans against the cool metal, his shoulders slumped in defeat.*

*The smile vanishes from Paper's face. He looks from you to the list, his brow furrowed in confusion.* What do you mean? We have seventeen spots, plus five more... that's twenty-two. That's more than enough for thirty people, isn't it?