Non canon first draft.

You sat in your favorite chair. You had sat in hundreds, no, thousands of chairs before deciding this was your favorite chair. You reclined, satisfied with your unquestionable taste in chairs.

If someone asked you what the best chair was, you'd probably be able to tell them precisely the chair they would view as the best. You should start a podcast about chairs; you could answer viewers' questions about what kinds of chairs they would prefer.

If only you didn't hate sitting so fucking much. You got up and walked to the fridge, You looked into it for a moment before you closed it and went to the cupboard and looked into it for a moment before you closed it and went to the freezer and looked into it for a moment before closing it and walking back to the fridge and repeated that cycle a few more times for good measure.

Giving up on finding a snack, you gyrate to your room, put on your headphones, and listen to some music.

And that's about all you did that day. You brushed your teeth and went to bed and had many nightmares about every type of chair your tortured imagination could conjure.

***

The moment you woke up, you realized something was wrong. Your blanket was softer than anything you've ever felt, and a cursory look around your room revealed that this is not the room you fell asleep in. Were you ****? Were you kidnapped? But then you noticed some things that didn't make sense, like the walls being decorated with the paintings your grandmother had given you in her will. Moreover, you still had your pho,ne, and you weren't restrained.

You quickly got out of bed and entered a hall similar in layout to the one in your apartment, but this one was decorated with gold detailing and some expensive-looking wood paneling.

You made it to a living room, which at that point wasn't very shockingly similar to your living room. Sitting on the most expensive-looking sofa you had ever seen was your loathsome roommate, whom you hated severely, but for whatever rasin decided you were best friends.

“Vik! You like the new digs?!” He said in his most obnoxious voice (I'd describe what he looks like, but we both know that it very soon won't matter)

“What do - Did you have something to do with this?”

“Fuck yeah, I did! Can I tell you a secret?” He asked conspiratorially with the dumbest fucking look on his stupid face.

“I... Sure.” You asked more curiously than exasperated.

“I found a book!”

“That's... cool. What kin-”

“-It's a magic book! It teaches you all kinds of spells and curses, not that I would cast a curse on anyone, But I learned how to cast this spell called false splendor that lets you make your home look like it's the height of luxury but all the appliances work the same as they did before and if we tried to sell anything it would only be as valuable as it was before I cast the spell so really it's just an aesthetic change but all the furniture is so soft and comfy-”

“Where's my chair?” you asked as panic twisted knots in your innards.

“Oh, uhh,” He looked around and pointed at a random chair you've never seen before. ” That's it, there I'm pretty sure.”

“No that is the overpriced piece of shit you turned my chair into now turn it back.” You said coldly.

He walked over to the dining table and picked up the most stereotypical grimoire to have ever been.

He hurriedly flipped through its pages before looking up at you like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. “It... It says even though the changes are superficial, be warned, for they are permanent... I'm sorry Vik.”

If you took every second of eternity and harvested every emotion from everything that has ever lived and everything that was going to live and studied them with all the wisest people in history... You would not understand an infinitesimal fraction of the rage you felt in that moment.

*

“I understand... It's just a chair. No rasin to pitch a fit over. Anyway, that's a very cool book- give it to me, give me the book- were best friends right so we should both get to hold the book so give me the book- come on just give me fucking book.” You said in a friendly manner.

“I... well... Okay?” He said, and you immediately grabbed the tome from his hands.

“I am so glad we can share such a wondrous treasure.” You said as you rushed to the curse section of the book.

You flip through page after page of curses to find one you feel will be fitting for the grave sin your roommate has committed.

“What... What spell are you looking for... ” He said, slightly concerned.

“Oh, I'm looking for friendship spells! You know, spells of friendship because we were such good friends!” You spot one curse you think might be good, but you decide against it because you think he'd die too quickly and wouldn't marinate in his suffering nearly long enough.

“Oh... ok, I guess that makes sense-”

“-GREAT, now stop fucking talking besty, I need to concentrate on finding the best friendship spell.”

You spend a few moments looking until you spot the perfect curse, trouble was you had to trick him into consenting to it.

“You know,w I think I found it! It's a spell that will unlock the ability for our friendship to go to a whole new level. But it does require i bit of a ritual to cas,t but It will be worth it!” You said with very much real excitement.

“Well...” He looked suspicious but not overly so. “What kind of ritual is it?”

“I mean... Does it matter? Do you... Do you not want to become ultimate superbeasties for life?” You said in mock betrayal.

“No! No, I want to, just... just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Fantastic!” You said excitedly, “You just need to shove a sounding rod down your urethra and the rest should be pretty straightforward!”

“You! You... You Wha?!!” He said in a very unfriendly way.

“Come on. For friendship.” You said pleadingly.

“I... Alright. But where are we even going to find a”

“Oh, there's one in the book. It's pretty cool how the book folds spacetime to store an entire sounding rod right on the page!”

You pulled the ridiculously long rod out of the book and handed it to him.

“Go on then. Put it in.”

He looked mortified but strangely determined. He must want you two to be best friends.

He turned around, and you could hear him unzip his pants. He whimpered as you assumed he began to slide the rod down his urethra.

After a few long moments, he zipped his pants back up and turned around, looking humiliated. But as you began to chant that dark incantation, his suffering was only getting started!