Mostly Ghostly Hotel

Entry 2: Ice Cold Shower

It had been a long day at work.

Your boss had been all over you about working harder. He said due to the 50th anniversary of the restaurant coming up, he needed everyone to work longer hours and more shifts. Dealing with customers was tough enough, and already tested your patience, but now you had to deal with them two more hours a day. Not to mention the half hour drive there and back.

Needless to say by the time you had gotten back to the hotel it was rather late, and you wanted nothing more then to eat ice cream and binge-watch Netflix before heading to sleep. You waved at LBM who sat at the front desk, ignoring her looks of concern as you headed towards the kitchen.

The dinning hall was empty, just as you expected, and you began to walk faster to get towards your cravings. For a brief moment you paused, it sounded as though someone was laughing on the other side. You shrugged, deciding it was nothing more then your tired mind, pushing open the heavy doors.

They tried to stop you.

It was too late.

"WAIT"

CRASH

A bucket clattered at your feet. Before you knew what was happening freezing cold water drenched your clothes. Your hair was soaked, your uniform was ruined. You blinked. Water distorted your vision. You blinked more. Your eyes at last opened to reveal a petrified Ghostface and a nonchalant Michael.

On the outside you were freezing; on the inside you were burning with rage. An awkward silence set in between the three of you. Michael was the first to speak, "I told you that wouldn't work."

Your eyes flew to him, angrily confused at what he meant and expecting an explanation. You were surprised to see him not talking to you, but to Ghostface, as he motioned towards the bucket. "That was a stupid idea," he said in a monotone voice.

Ghostface looked from you to the bucket, not sure at what really to say. You furrowed your eyebrows, awaiting some sort of apology. And an explanation.

"It was not stupid," Ghostface said after a long pause, "It just didn't turn out right."

"We should have gone with the paint and feathers."

"You're just saying that because they weren't the ones who walked in, Mikey."

"Don't call me Mikey."

You gaped at them. Were they seriously pretending you weren't there? You looked back and forth between the two, tapping your foot. Still no response. They just continued to bicker.

"I wanted my revenge my way but the second you found what was going on-"

"I just thought I'd be a good friend, Mikey, and help out-"

"Don't call me Mikey. and you didn't help-"

"Well it still wasn't my fault."

"But you're the one who got everyone else involved-"

You lost it, "Just shut up!"

The two froze, each locked in a mad rage. You wondered if they actually had forgotten that you had been there the whole time. Your arms were crossed against your chest. Your scowl could combat the most evil glare known to man. You grimaced at the two. "Will someone explain what is going on here?" you practically shouted it.

Once more the two killers refused to meet your gaze. This time, though, you wouldn't give up. Your glare hardened at them as you pressed your arms against your chest, "Or at least get me a towel?"

"Oh yeah!" Ghostface flustered, "Of course." He reached for the large towel the two hidden behind them, cautiously handing it to you. You yanked it from him, relieved that you'd be able to dry off a bit as you kept shivering. You looked down at your uniform and sighed. You'd need a new one, which would definitely take some explaining.