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A new start.
That is exactly what you needed.
Away from the suffocating and downright gross confines of the dank apartment you resided in.
Away from the dead end job as a customer service rep at the mega- corporation slowly taking over the world, with your fake ass boss and nasty coworkers (although you will miss Sam, your bff who you have known for years.)
And away from… him.
It might’ve taken you months and many sleepless nights, but you did it, you found a cheaply priced estate in an upcoming small town, appropriately dubbed ‘Homestead’. It had practically everything that a person would need, a bustling community, just the right amenities, a lovely economy and government, and (through word of mouth) some absolutely drop dead gorgeous residents.
Suffice to say you dropped your old life faster than a 100 lbs weight (which might not seem like a lot, but your weak ass begs to differ). With that, you transferred from your desk job in favor of a remote one, gave a goodbye hug and traded Thiscord usernames with Sam, double checked your savings, packed your bags and took your old beater car to where your new life was going to start.
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After an agonizing 2 days, 3 gas station burritos, and 3 cases of food poisoning (you didn’t learn after the first 2 times and I think it's safe to say you didn’t learn after the 3rd time to NOT trust gas station food), you finally made it to Homestead.
Driving through the town you can already see lovely shops, restaurants, clubs, and absolute HOTTIES! It only took you 5, maybe 6, minutes to get through the town and to where you would be residing for the foreseeable future.
Out on the front lawn you can see a tall pink haired lady, donning a pair of quite stylish glasses, a white cropped jacket worn over a pink (even more cropped) top, and wearing a cute skirt seemingly made out of various differently colored hearts. She appears to be waiting for you and as she spots you from inside your car she gives an enthusiastic wave and an equally energized smile.
You park in the driveway and walk out, leaving behind all your luggage (you’ll unpack that later… get it?), walking towards who you assume is the outgoing realtor you talked to a week ago.
As you approach she matches your pace and excitedly greets you.
“Hey there!” She asks your name and you give it to her, confirming that you are in fact who she thought you were. “Your life is about to change. Hope you’re ready!”
She eagerly takes your hand and shakes it (with a surprisingly firm grip).
“My name is Skylar! Skylar Specs, and I am the part-time realtor who just sold you this amazing house!” She turns, gesturing to the big 2 story abode that you were somehow able to afford. She turns back to you, still wearing her bright smile. You address her, not exactly copying her enthusiasm, but still with more gusto than you normally would (also crazy considering how extremely exhausted you are).
“OH, yeah. A-and what a great place this is, I can’t wait to just… integrate and get to know the town better!” You zealously lie through your teeth, you know that you will absolutely avoid any social interaction that comes a-knocking on your new door and will most likely spend the rest of your days rotting in bed ordering from Food Fetch while watching cat videos.
Nevertheless, Skylar takes your response as the absolute truth and her demeanor somehow gets happier.
“Oh that’s terrific! I just know you will fit into Homestead wonderfully!-” She stops and puts both her hands up in a ‘wait here’ motion, running off towards a yellow buggy car with pink accents.
After rummaging around in it she pulls out a couple brochures and a set of keys.
“Here! I’ve nabbed some handy dandy lil’ brochures with various fun tidbits like cool restaurants, clubs, and some other useful things,” shuffling the papers around she hands you a specific one labeled ‘Homestead Residency Packet’, ”Now I know this isn’t the most interesting, BUT it is always good to have!” She gestures at different numbers, emails, and websites, pointing out the Mayor’s secretary’s email, a contractors website, and (seeming the least enthusiastic she’s been since you met her 2 minutes ago) she points to a local exterminating business called ‘Home-icidal Tendencies’, but quickly moving away from it and handing you the keys to your new house.
“Well, that should get you all set up! You have my number incase you need anything-” She leans in for a whisper,” I am also the town's official-unofficial tour guide, so just give me a small ring-a-ding and I will come with all the help I can possibly give!”. With that she gives you a small salute and bids you a farewell, hopping in her car and driving off.
You waste no time unlocking the doors to your new home and hauling ass trying to get all your stuff inside (not bothering to unpack it, just get it out of your car). Box after box, you bring in your books, your tech, your clothes, and a couple small bug terrariums that you set up in one of the bedrooms around the house, actually bothering to unpack the necessary supplies for your buggy babies.
Getting “properly” set up, you take a look around your new fully furnished home… Still, how in the hell did you find this?! You’d rather not speculate, so you do as you do and get ready to hibernate for five million years.
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It has been a week.
Seven whole days since you’ve moved into Homestead and you have talked to one maybe two people this whole time. The “second” person being the absolute tank that seems to be the only Food Fetch driver in this whole town.
You haven’t gotten a good look at him but you know he is an absolute unit with blue hair, and even though he wears a trench coat and covers up really well you could swear his skin even has a blue hue to it. You can also swear that he has been stealing small bits from your orders but instead of confronting him or complaining (or, dare I say, get your own goddamn food like an adult) you order a little extra so that he can take some for himself.
Actually, looking around you can see that your house is littered with different take out boxes, bags and just a bunch of trash. Not a very good reflection on you as a house owner, but you’re finally prepared to change that and get to work.
You snatch a couple of trash bags, a pair of disposable gloves, and you tie a bandana around your head (you don’t really know why, you aren’t too concerned about hair getting in your face but it just seems like the best thing to do).
An hour in and you have done a decent job, cleaning up 75% of the mess you’ve accumulated. That’s when you hear it. It starts as a small skittering, a subtle scratching, heard around the many boxes and trash bags. You didn’t think anything of it, even when you started to hear squeaks. ‘Tis but a blood chilling hallucination’ you told yourself, to think that it is anything but the real thing to placate yourself.
You resume cleaning in your living room, getting more done (albeit slowly) and as you pick up another filled trash bag… You see it.
A rat.
Letting out the bravest (and shrillest) scream, you jump onto a nearby table. That being a small couch-side desk.
You scramble to stay balanced on your impromptu life saving desk and rack your brain for a solution. Do you call the police? The fire department? Nasa? GHOSTBUSTERS?!?! In your panic you miraculously stumble over the brochures you had discarded just a week ago. Getting an idea, you shakily grab the one with the exterminator's number on it (look at what a smart and incredibly brave person you are).
Fishing out your phone from your pocket and dialing the number. Not paying attention to the senseless babbling that comes out of your mouth as you helplessly plead with whoever it is on the other line to come and save you, all the while keeping a focused and fearful eye on the growing issue and- OH MY GOD IS IT GETTING CLOSER?!?!
What feels like an eternity later you hear a knock on the door.
“Knock Knock! It’s the guy you called about the rat problem, open up!”. You move to get off the table but stop yourself, the rat is still present. You didn’t think this far. Thankfully you kept your door unlocked during your tidying sesh. Hysterically, you bring that to the guy’s attention.
“Y-Yeah! Uh c-come in, the door’s- AH!- t-the door is unLOCKED AHH!”
The rat is approaching.
He opens the door and charges in with a manic grin. “IT’S RAT MURDERIN’ TIME!”
He looks around vigorously and his excitement slowly dies down when he spots you cowering atop a small table and a singular rat. You point with dread and plead for him to get rid of it.
“G-GET IT!.. p-please”. He looks at you quizzically and grabs the rat by the tail. Walking back outside to presumably put it in a cage in the van he drove up in.
He walks back in just as you take a shaky, but relieved, step of the table.
“Oh my gosh, thank you so so much.”
“Yeha yeah, whateva. So, was it just the… one rat? I don’t want you to be holdin’ out on me, pal.” He asks you accusingly in a thick New York accent.
You take a moment to truly take in the stranger in front of you. He’s tubby and short, or at least shorter than you, with brown hair tied into what looks like mouse ears and a long rat tail in the back (ironic). He wears a brown and scruffy rat coat over a white button up, adorning a cheese-like tie, and plaid gray pants.
Oh my god, he is so goddamn cute and exactly your type.
“Well?! Are you just gonna gawk at me or are you gonna answer the goddamn question, ya freak. WHERE ARE THE RATS?!”
Blinking out of your stupor you shake your head. “Oh, no sorry, it was just the one aha… ha.”
“... What’s wrong wit you?”
“Uhh, that's a… GOOD question, um-”
He brushes off your rambling and introduces himself as ‘Vaughn Trapp’, and you introduce yourself in return.
Smacking yourself in the forehead you scold yourself for your forgetfulness, you go to grab your wallet to compensate Vaughn for completely and utterly wasting his time. But as you move to hand him the cash he stops you.
“Don’t even, it was just one freaking rat.”
“I gotta compensate you someway, man-” You stop yourself and blush, not realizing the crass implications that could be hidden underneath your words (freak), ”N-NOT LIKE THAT, oh geez, sorry that sounded weird I didn’t mean that...” You blather on.
He seems taken aback and has a small tint of pink around his round face, stopping your flustered yapping abruptly.
“Hey HEY, just shh I know, just shut the fuck up, you’re good, geez pal. You got hit in the head or somethin’?”
You halt and chuckle a bit, “Sorry sorry… my uh point still stands. I gotta pay you, I kinda called you over here for just one rat. And you did help me immensely.”. He ponders momentarily and gets what one would call a “eureka” expression.
“Ya got any cheese on ya?”
“Oh well, I haven’t gone shopping so I might have some cheese, or like, cheese adjacent food? Why? You- You want some cheese?”
“Do I want some cheese? Do I want some CHEESE?! Who in their right mind wouldn’t want some CHEESE??”
“... What about lactose intolerant people?” You question him.
“Yeah well, those people were damned from the start,” He brushes off your comment. “Now hand over the cheddar, pal.”
You motion for him to follow you through the rest of the house, thanking your lucky star that you cleaned up as much as you did, leading him to your kitchen and towards your fridge. Rifling through it you curse your unlucky star when you remember you hadn’t gone grocery shopping, only finding half a box of mozzarella sticks and nacho cheese. You offer the goods up to Vaughn, and he grabs them with a raised brow but with a smile nonetheless.
“Come to papa!”
“I uh, would’ve had more variety… or just more in general- BUT I haven’t gone shopping yet and-” Vaughn cuts you off.
“Gahh, fuhgeddaboudit.” He waves his hand then gets a contemplative look on his face. You could practically see the gears turning in his head when he finally speaks up, “uhh , actually y’know what… This- This isn’t enough!” He exclaims. You try to stutter out a few apologies but he cuts you off, “-nah nah, you think I’m some chump don't cha?! WELL I AIN’T! You’re just gonna have to do your lil shoppin’ and then come back to me to, uh to drop it off. YEAH, yeah do that.”
He looks up at you with a hint of blush on his face as he hands you the most crude business card you’ve ever seen. On it it has the number you dialed before but also what looks to be a home address.
“Just uh, call me or visit- AND GET ME CHEESE OR WHATEVA!” He shouts as he finally takes his leave.
…
Guess you know 3 (ish) people now… and a hankering for some cheese (with a side of rat man…)