Chapter Text
Even after years of being on the farm, Stan still hated everything about Tegridy. He hated all of the extra chores his friends didn’t understand, he hated how far he was from everyone and everywhere, and most of all he hated how cocky his father had become. To pass the time, he had taken up woodworking. Spending hours upon hours in the barn working on endless projects. Tonight ,for some reason, Shelley had decided to tag along. Stan grabbed out a few pieces of random scrap wood and some tools. He handed his sister some goggles. “Did you have anything specific in mind, Shelley?” Stan asked his sister.
“I mean, my dresser broke. Do you think we could build me a new one? That would be better than having to go to mom or dad about it,” she responded.
Stan looked around and thought for a moment before speaking up, “Yeah we could, it’s not gonna be matching wood though.”
“I don’t really care that much, I just need it to fit my clothes.”
Stan nodded in response and started to gather more wood from around the barn. The two of them started to cut the wood and lay it out how they planned to put it together. He walked off to go find the hardware in a nearby corner.
Shelley looked for a while,“I think that might be a bit small, we should add another layer of drawers on top,” she shouted towards her brother. She had gotten her headgear and braces taken off a few years ago, but despite that she still spoke with a lisp. Stan walked back over towards her. Outside, the clouds had covered the sky and it began to rain, followed by thunder and distant lightning strikes. The storm only got worse.
‘I’ll need to go get the wood from the shed,” he said as he opened the barn door, “Shit. Of course it’s raining. I left my coat in the house.”
“You won’t melt if you get hit by a little water.”
“Oh can it! I’ll be right back,” Stan said before walking out of the barn.
He was still holding his dad’s old drill, which he had picked up absentmindedly while he was in the corner of the barn. The storm continued to get worse, the rain pummelling down. Loud booms of thunder could be heard. As he was walking down the path and across the field towards the shed, he had been twisting the drill around in his hands. Just as he was about to reach the shed, a quick and sharp sensation filled his entire body. Everything felt hot and he tumbled to the ground.
—
Stan woke up in his bed, in an unreasonable amount of pain. He was struck by literal lightning, but he did not expect it to be so painful. He sat up with a groan, rubbing his side. He had to go back to school in the morning, he looked over at his alarm clock which read 5:03. Stan didn’t need to get up until 6:30, but he also knew he wasn’t going to be getting any more sleep.
He got out of his bed and wandered towards his dresser. I still need to help Shelley finish her new dresser, he thought to himself. While he was getting himself ready for school, he ran into something in the darkness of his room. Stan flicked the switch to turn the lights on and immediately noticed his dad’s drill. In the middle of his bedroom, floating. In that instant, he grabbed his phone and called his best friend, Kyle.
—
The phone rang for a moment before Kyle answered, “Hello?” He rubbed his eyes and yawned.
Stan responded quickly, “Dude, you won’t fucking believe it.”
“Stan, I love you, but it isn’t even 5:30. I still have another hour I could be sleeping”
“Kyle this is crazy, there is a drill just like suspended, in the middle of the air. It’s floating.”
“I think you need to go back to sleep. Or go see the doctor, ‘cause I was looking into it, lightning strikes can cause neurological issues and stuff like hallucinations,” Kyle replied, his tiredness obvious in his voice.
Stan groaned, “No dude it's real, I didn't even realize it was there until I ran into it. Like I can touch it's not just a visual thing!”
“Hey, hey, don't yell. And you need to like actually stop getting ready in the mornings in complete darkness. I'm tired of hearing about you falling in the mornings. But I'm gonna come over, we'll probably be a bit late to school but it's fine.”
Stan sighed, “Okay, fine. I'll see you in a bit.”
Kyle pushed the covers off of him and got out of bed. He didn't bother getting out of his pajamas and instead just grabbed his car keys and left his bedroom.
“Sweetie, what are you doing up so early?” Kyle's mom's voice startled him as he walked out into the hallway.
He stopped in his tracks, “Gosh, mom you scared me. Stan is freaking out over something so I'm just going to go check on him, calm him down whatever I need to do.”
“I’m glad you care about your friend but it's still very early in the morning and you need sleep,” Sheila said.
“It's not much earlier than I would have gotten up, plus I need to pick him up anyways. He probably can't drive right now and Shelley has work this morning,” Kyle responded.
His mother seemed to analyze every word he said before speaking up again, “Just make sure the two of you make it to school on time, or call me if you have to stay home from school I guess. I'm going back to bed. Love you.”
“Yeah, love you too.”
The drive to Stan's house was nearly an hour long. Kyle got out of his car and walked up to the house. He walked in, not even bothering to knock on the door. Kyle looked around the living, not for any particular reason. He noticed there was a screwdriver stuck in the ceiling. Assuming it has something to do with Randy, he ignored it and walked into the kitchen. He poured a glass of water before walking upstairs to Stan's bedroom.
Each stair creaked annoyingly, he hoped he wasn't waking up Sharon or Shelley with the noise. He pushed the bedroom door open and turned the light on, which he guessed Stan turned back off at some point.
“Kyle!” Stan exclaimed.
He looked towards the middle of the room, and there it was, the magically floating power drill. After a moment he spoke up, “Oh, oh you weren't kidding.”
“No I wasn't!” He continued to yell, and threw his hands up. The drill flew higher up and hit the ceiling. The boys both focused their eyes on the drill.
“What the fuck,” they said in unison.
Kyle leaned backwards onto the open door, “Stan what kind of strings are you pulling?”
“I'm not, I swear I'm not,” he muttered. Stan dropped his hands back to his sides. Subsequently, the drill fell straight onto the hardwood floor with a crash. “Dude, I think something is haunting my drill. Maybe some dead celebrity like Ike used to see or some stupid shit like that.” He laughed nervously to himself.
“Stan, this is crazy. You're controlling that drill. How are you doing that?”
“I'm not controlling it, Kyle, you thinking that is crazy,” Stan scoffed.
“Really? Then raise your arm again.”
“That’s not gonna do anything, it's not gonna go back up,” he said as he raised his arm. He was partially right, as the drill was flung into the wall underneath his desk. “Fuck, I'm controlling the drill.”
“Yeah, and I'm going to guess that my assumption that Randy was the reason that there is a screwdriver in your living room ceiling is wrong.”
“We need to tell the guys about this.”