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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/LukeWasNotHere on 2024-11-03 04:08:47+00:00.

I used to find the trope of two people waking up in the same bed, surprised or screaming at each other, with no memory of how they even got into the situation in the first place, while hilarious, quite unrealistic. Notice the use of past tense. I awoke blinded by my eye boogers, comfortably in my own bed, I made the mistake of turning to my left.

“Gah!” Was all I got out before I started to fall, though in mid air I did grab my revolver off the nightstand. 

“What the Hell are you doing here, Himbo!” Scout was too tired to scream, and she also fell off my bed. 

“What do you mean what am I doing here? I live here! What are you doing in my bed?!” I got off the ground and pointed at her. 

“I don’t know! Oh Gods… I don’t know.” She looked at me in horror and patted down her clothes, to make sure she still had them on. I looked down too, and saw I was still wearing my jeans and sweater. “God, I’m sore.” She grabbed her butt. “Okay, I’m still wearing my clothes, so that’s good. I normally sleep naked so we both must have had a good reason to be so tired.” Scout finished. 

“Ew. You’re one of those naked sleepers.” I backed away from her. “What are you gonna do if your apartment burns down or something?” I asked. 

“What do you mean, what am I going  to do? Run outside naked and live! Also my apartment probably won’t burn down anytime soon because I don’t live over a freaking bar!” Scout’s whole body gestured at the ground.

“Whatever, that’s not important right now.” I looked out the window and saw it was light out. “Okay, it’s the next day so it must have happened yesterday-” I was interrupted by cheers. I looked back outside and saw a crowd of adoring people, cheering and waving outside the bar/my studio apartment. “That can’t be good.” I closed the blinds. 

“Wait,” Scout ran over to my door and grabbed the newspaper. “Victory Press.” She gasped and showed the front picture. 

“That really can’t be good.” I stared in mounting horror at the candid photo of two people with guns, masks and a general trouble making disposition. Thankfully it was only one photo and was low quality enough (barely) that with enough talking I could convince people that it wasn’t us, and just two very good looking, and completely different people. Speaking of which, if you’re a journalist reading this, you can’t prove it was us, it’s just very much implied. 

“‘Two masked rogues robbed a Scrarcan family estate!’” Scout read the headline. “We robbed my own family?!” She was finally awake enough to yell. “‘Early last night two masked people robbed a mansion turned museum owned by the Scrarcan family. Though the dozens of guards all tried to thwart the robbery, most were incapacitated but still uninjured with taser rounds.’” Scout sighed at the last two words. 

I looked down at my gun, I checked each of the six cylinders. All but one had an empty case of my taser rounds. “Okay, so we were so tired that I didn’t even bother to reload my gun and we both just collapsed in bed together. Okay, just keep reading and I’ll look around for clues.” I started at the door. I noticed how both our shoes were flung all over the place along with mud prints. 

“‘The two masked people broke in at around midnight, after picking the highly secure backdoor. Though it was picked, it was done so by someone so skilled it left no marks, the detectives investigating the case theorize it could have been a key, and therefore an inside job.’ Oh no, you definitely picked that lock.” Scout said. 

I followed our steps, I saw Scout’s coat on the floor near the bathroom. I opened the door and was met by a bloody scene. The first aid kit I had in the bathroom was on the floor, along with blood all over the sink and toilet. I saw a needle and sanitizing liquid out. 

“Uh, Scout.” I tried to speak calmly. 

“In a minute, I’m still reading the thing. ‘During the initial break in there was a small firefight between the guards and the two intruders, some guards claimed to have hit one.’” Scout read, paused and realized. “Turn around.” Scout started taking off her pants, I whipped around. “I got shot in the ass!” She half sighed, half yelled. 

“Yeah, and I don’t think I need to turn around in the first place.” I stared at one of my bookshelves.

“What?” Scout fired back, annoyed.

“I think I already saw your butt.”

“What!” She said again, this time not a question.

“Does it have stitches and much more importantly, do you even know how to sew a wound?” I asked. 

“Oh.” Scout replied as awkwardly as you imagined. “My pants are back on now.” She added quietly. 

“Just keep reading. If we robbed a place, why are people outside my house cheering?” I turned around and continued my hunt for clues. I walked over to my kitchen table. I saw a map of the museum, with hastily scribbled notes on it, and circles on different artifacts. 

“‘After the firefight the two robbers went around the museum, stealing different objects, mostly paintings, gold, and small items used for religious purposes in old Link cultures.’ Damn it, I’m stealing from my own people, too!” Scout whipped her tail in annoyance. “‘During this time it is thought that the robbers destroyed the security cam footage.’” 

I finally finished my walk in last night’s steps and sat next to Scout still reading on my bed. “Okay, the picture had more pixels than sand on a beach, you’re still rich, I’m still me, so I’m sure we can convince people that it wasn’t us who robbed your family. But, why are there people outside my house celebrating?” I facepalmed. 

“I’m almost done, hold on. ‘Controversially, some are calling the robbers heroes. Due to past criticism of the Scrarcan’s family purchases of Link artifacts not belonging to their own culture.’” Scout groaned. “I hate that my family buys all the crap, it should belong to their own people’s museums.” 

I looked at her and raised an eyebrow. She didn’t see me and continued reading.

“‘Some believe that it was best the two robbers stole it in the first place, as when they left the museum they actually left the artifacts by community centers and churches of the peoples and cultures they were actually made by. Returning it back to them. They gave the stolen gold to anyone walking near them, and donation boxes. They were last seen near a bar downtown.’” Scout finished reading. “Ohhh.” She threw the newspaper on the ground. 

“I knew it was your fault.” I laughed. “Hey look on the brightside, we’re Robin Hood.”

Author’s Note: Only two more days and I’ll be free. Also, a commenter mentioned in a past story about Theseus and Scout robbing her parents blind, I don’t remember who said it, this is based loosely on it, and thank you very much to that person. 

Vaguely important second note: This isn’t a series, though it could be debated. It’s an idiotic writing challenge I made up one night and keep almost failing. Writing a one shot everyday for thirty days. I write these like an episodic T.V. show, the two main characters are the same, sometimes there are two part episodes but it’s meant to be enjoyed on its own. The fact it can be read in order is a bonus afterthought. Context is overrated anyways.

Thanks for reading. :}

28/30 Days

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