NZ’s Usual Home Intruders

[Home] | NZ’s Monday went like this:

6 a.m. | Wake up

6:05 - 7:05 | Daily Workout [No interruptions!]

7:10 | Take a shower

7:30 | Make breakfast

8:00 | IMPORTANT: Monthly scheduled meeting with the Board

8:30 | Intentionally show up late

10:00 | Virtually join a Melting Pot’s Greed conference whilst en route to said casino

11 - Noon | Meet with potential casino investors [Not interested, but will listen anyway]

1 p.m. | Lunch [Spaghetti Day!]

1:30 | Oversee casino operations

1:45 | Contact Prism Ring Directors

2:00 | Meet up with Cutie. Discuss a potential release date for her new clothing line

2:30 | Call The Square. Try to— ideally—arrange a fashion show

3 - 5 | Day 1 of recording new casino PV

5:50 | Address staff. Leave “Greedy-Hour” night-time operations to DD (The Head of Operations). Go home.

▓

The time is now 6:11 p.m.

NZ, slumped over and exhausted, gloomily trudges along a mildly crowded sidewalk. As she reflects upon (and laments) the day’s occurrences, she quietly curses her grandfather for robbing her of her youth by swamping her with all of his unfinished work and current responsibilities ever since he kicked the bucket.

“God, what a day… I legitimately hate, WITH ALL MY BEING, how all these GOD-FORSAKEN meetings were planned ON THE SAME DAY!” She grabbed her hair and violently ran her hands through it, ruffling it up.

Anyone who passed by NZ during this tired fit of rage would’ve never guessed at the fact that she’s the face of The Melting Pot’s Greed, the most famous of Arcadia’s three casinos. What’s more, she even holds a seat on the city’s board at the young age of twenty-one.

“The unwanted (and unwelcome) combination of all my least favorite duties being scheduled on a Monday smells like someone’s idea of a sick joke. My first guesses go to Honey or Ambrose, but I’m willing to bet, heh, no pun intended, on Honey. Whatever the case, maybe I should go and kill—NZ’s favorite word for “fire”—THEIR secretaries! I’m sure THEY had something to do with this!” A look of madness comes across her face.

“Heh heh… AHAHAHAHAHA!! You know, that actually doesn’t sound too bad…”

As NZ—now revived by dark and sinister thoughts—potently gave off “mass murderer” vibes, in a hilarious twist of irony, if there was anyone left in the crowd brave enough to ask her what was wrong, no one did so because everyone actively avoided her.

“But, well, you know… Seeing Cutie wasn’t half-bad.” A small smile formed on her face, and she walked across an intersection with a happier mood. Her posture, for one thing, improved significantly; her strides appeared more animated and bubbly, a major contrast to NZ’s earlier sluggish and unsteady pace.

“It was a nice change,” she continued, “I’m actually really happy that I got to see her today. Arranging a meeting like this is always so frustrating with her because she never wants to leave her room! It’s appropriately disturbing; always being cooped up in there like the NEET-fashionista she is!” An exhale escapes her. “In any case, her clothing brand has been getting crazy popular lately. Being an anonymous creator does have its challenges, but hey, at the end of the day, we’re both profiting. Heh heh, all’s well that ends well, right?”

No sooner had she cheered up than NZ was hit with a powerful wave of [back] pain and exhaustion, a reminder of the incredibly tedious recording session she had just finished a couple of hours ago for the casino’s new fall-themed promotional video. NZ, who, having at first felt despairingly gloomy, shifted to a maniacal, bloodthirsty madness, only to then be overcome with the sincerest feelings of happiness, went full circle and landed back at square one; in an even worse state of doom-and-gloom than she had been before.

“Siiiiiiigh.” Unbeknownst to NZ, who emitted a frightening aura that consisted along the lines of: “I-desperately-want-to-talk-to-someone-but-I’ll-go-absolutely-fucking-ballistic-on-the-first-person-to-approache-me,” finally noticed—due to her needing to check her surroundings to see if she was on the right path home—the empty street before her, realizing that everyone passing by deliberately took a separate path to leave her alone on this one.

▓

“Man, that took longer than I thought… Am I home yet?? Ah! Here we go. Home, sweet home…”

NZ arrived at a rather small apartment complex located on the edge of Probability Lane, the name she preferred most when referring to Arcadia’s Gambling District—other nicknames included “The Place Where Gamblers Come to Die” or, to keep it short, “Arcadia’s Gambling Hellhole.”

Naturally, she owned this place.

As the proprietor of this residential establishment, it was interesting how she kept only one room for herself and rented out the others to anyone within her rather small circle of confidantes who needed a place to lay low.

NZ walks up the stairs to the second floor. Just before reaching the top, two obnoxiously loud voices, which made their presence known for all the world to hear, were so noisy that she heard them from across the walkway. Their idiocy startled NZ out of her tired state.

“YEAHHH!!! I WIN AGAIN!! SCREW CARD GAMES, I GO UNDEFEATED WHEN I’M GAMING!”

“One more round! We’re gonna keep going till I win!!”

“Hah! In your dreams!”

NZ, realizing who those voices belong to, beelines it for her apartment door and slams it open, startling the people inside.

“WHY THE HELL DO YOU GUYS KEEP CHOSING MY HOUSE TO BREAK INTO!?” She yells, her first question out of the way. She continues, “DON’T YOU HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO!?”

“N—”

“—Z!”

Red, saying the first letter of the girl’s name, and Exo, who said the last, look at the owner of the two-lettered name with their heads upside down, pleading with her not to kick them out with puppy-dog eyes.

“Your house is just… so cozyyy,” says Red.

“Yeahhh. It’s our favorite spot to gameee,” responds Exo in kind.

The sudden shower of praise makes NZ smile and blush with happiness. However, after realizing what they were up to, she quickly returned to reality; her angry glare returning with a vengeance.

“IF YOU GUYS KEEP THIS UP, I’LL GET AMBROSE TO KILL YOU BOTH!!!” she vehemently says while cartoonishly kicking them both out.

“Heh, as if,” says Red with a smirk. “Hey, Exo, wanna come back here tomorrow?”

“HEY! I HEARD THAT!!”

““But NZ, we just love you[r place] soooo muchhhhhh.”” Red and Exo counter her angry outburst with a planned response of their own…

“!!!”

…and it worked like a charm.

Their well-played verbal counterattack made NZ blush heavily.

Flustered and unsure of what to do next, NZ paused… and then mentally played back the last five seconds to double-check if she had heard them correctly.

The way in which they timed their comeback in unison… the way they sneakily added the word “love” to throw her off… the way they heavily emphasized the “you” in “your place,” leaving her awfully confused as to whether they meant her specifically or the actual place itself…

.

..

…

…!

Ohhhh, shit… I just got got, didn’t I?

After taking another second to reconsider the facts…

Yeah, that’s it. I’m sick and tired of their shit.

NZ, having no more energy to indulge in the stupid whims of Red and Exo any longer, angrily slams the door in their faces and leans against it, slowly sliding down to the floor. After listening to the sound of their receding footsteps, she took a deep breath, got up, and walked to her fridge, motivated to end what remained of her day with a nice dinner.

Looking back on it, though she’ll never admit it out loud, NZ rather enjoys the chaotic company of those two.

Be that as it may, she hopes and wishes for the day when they’d properly come over like civilized people.

Inside this place of rather small comfort, NZ, a girl barely the age of twenty-one, hopes for an easier and less stressful Tuesday…

End