A “Joan can hear Thomas talking to the sides, that’s canon” fic, inspired by this post. I apologize. Warning: Joan swears.
***
Joan loved their friend Thomas dearly, which was why they were willing to overlook his eccentricities. If anything, though, the amount of times they hung out with Thomas just made him look even stranger.
Most of it came from the fact that Thomas had this unusual tendency to mutter to himself constantly, in short bursts, like he was holding a conversation. When he got really stressed, he’d stand in the living room, and if Joan happened to be over, they would hear him carry on by himself for twenty minutes. But even when that wasn’t going on, there were frequent things happening in the Sanders household.
One time, Joan brought a box of cookies over and left it on the counter. When they came back, half the box was gone.
“Did you eat some of those already?” Joan called to Thomas, who was on the couch.
“No,” he answered.
“Wait, then who did?”
“Dad,” Thomas responded unthinkingly, then just sort of stared at Joan, blinking.
“Dad? When the hell was your dad here?”
They never got an answer, so Thomas’ response ended up raising more questions than it solved.
Another time, Thomas was doing something else a little strange while he and Joan worked on a script in the apartment. He kept turning on a Disney movie on his laptop in the other room, so it was nothing but muddled background noise to the two of them that Thomas would mumble-sing along to. Then, the minute the movie ended, he’d go and exchange it for the next.
“Why’re you playing so many if you’re not even watching them?” asked Joan.
“For a friend,” said Thomas, and, well, that was that.
Later that week, the two of them were putting the finishing touches on the script. It was three in the morning and both of them were shriveled up with exhaustion, but they were fiercely trying to meet the deadline of next Friday. The stress got so bad that Thomas almost panicked, and Joan had to stop and convince him that it would be okay if the video was late.
“I’m so tired…ugh, maybe you’re right, Joan.” Thomas lay on the floor, hardly bothering to prop himself up with an elbow. “I’m just getting so nervous about actually having something out on time.”
“You know nobody will mind.”
“I wish I didn’t get so stressed over these things.”
“I feel you,” said Joan. “Anxiety’s a bitch.”
“eXCUSE ME?!” Thomas whipped his head up to glare at Joan. “He is NOT! He’s working on it!”
Joan and Thomas stared at each other.
“….Dude, what?”
“…nflghl I’m going to sleep.”
But the occurrence that really took the cake happened months later. Joan was at Thomas’ house again, and it was late, again, because that was just how their friendship went sometimes. Joan thought Thomas was upstairs getting ready to sleep, and they snuck into the kitchen to get a devils’-hour snack.
The kitchen was dark, but Joan was blinded when someone else opened the refrigerator door. Joan squinted and saw Thomas’ outline rustling around in the fridge.
“Any pizza left?” Joan asked. Then Thomas turned around.
“….”
“….”
“When did you put on a tie?”
“I….”
“Is that—“ Joan squinted. “Is that jam? Are you literally eating jam from a jar right now?”
Thomas hastily slammed the jar back into the fridge and pushed up his glasses that he was wearing for some reason. “Well, you see….Joan,” he said loudly, “I required sustenance.”
“…What?”
“Yes! I craved that sweet sweet organic fruit spread. So I had some. It was very, Lit. Well, I must be going.”
“Thomas, where are you—“
“Goodbye, fam. I mean—J-slice. I mean—oh, confound it all.” Thomas stalked past them and seemed to vanish up the stairs before Joan knew what to do.
Later, Joan would chalk it up to a late-night hallucination. They brought it up to Thomas, and he didn’t seem to remember the incident. But when Joan distinctly later heard Thomas mutter to himself, “Wow, Logan, that’s how you impersonate me?” they decided that there were some mysteries better left unsolved.
I still love this with all my being… This is hilarious…
Published
AlexTheGhost 