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Slam
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Mr. Danya
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Ok, so Nancy was losing it. Peachy.

Vanessa backed off the second her cooky companion had grabbed the axe again, but relaxed when it didn’t start swinging for her face. It was pretty sad really: watching her hide under the table and start humming her words like a playful little girl. Sad, and not helping with the whole freaky unsettling thing either.

Since she didn’t know Nancy at all, she had no idea what scale to consider this freak-out. Her best friend’s breakdowns weren’t usually of this calibre, but it’s not like she played psychotherapist to half the school or anything. Was Nancy going completely off her rocker, or would she chill out with the right prodding? More importantly, was this something she was even capable of fixing?

Dr Stone’s Psychiatric Help: 5 Cents; The Doctor is [IN].

“Well,” she started, crouching down so that she was a bit closer to eye level with Nancy. “right now, I guess, I’m going to make sure you don’t try to take my face off with that axe?” she grinned. It was a very weird joke to make, she realised instantly, but it was already made.

“Seriously though, I’m just looking for my friends so we can sort this shit out. You want to tag along? I mean, if you don’t go all Michael Myers on us or whatever.”

That’s right, Cams was out there somewhere, hopefully doing better than the girl in front of her. Cams, and Brady and BB-

Hang on. Had the last two been on the bus that day?

“…MOTHERFUCKER!”
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