TommyInnit's somewhat deadly tea bags

MisCliker calls people Pricks

A/N This chapter will be a rather short and I might post half of it now, and just add the rest later on tomorrow or something- Also I'm trying this new sort of writing prompt. 

_______________________________________

Wilbur 3rd person (A new POV? Good job me):

Wilbur sighed and put his guitar back on its stand. 

He stood up from the creaky old bed of his apartment and dragged himself to the bathroom, leg's still half asleep and doing that weird tingly sort of feeling. 

He yawned and picked his phone out of his pocket, the screen looking like it was about to shatter into a million pieces by the number of cracks and scratches on it. He should probably get a new phone and a phone case. 

A familiar ringtone sounded from his phone, and he locked down at the contact, it was an unknown number. Now, a normal person would simply but the phone back and decline the call. 

Wilbur was not normal.

He picked the phone up and was met with the screaming of a childlike voice saying, "Get home right now Tubso! Ranboo's fallen down the stairs and he's doing that thing where he rapidly yells 'Spaghetti'." 

"Uhm...ma'am I believe you have the wrong number-"

"This is not something to joke about Tubbo, he's now starting to curl up in a ball! Get home or else I'm calling the police about child-neglect!" 

Wilbur gasped slightly, could this be the wife possibly of the guy 'Tubso'? Was Spaghetti man their son? Would he have to call CPS about child-neglect?

"Ma'am please calm down, you most certainly have the wrong number-"

"I most certainly do not have the wrong number! This is what was labeled on Ranboo's phone as 'Bozo who I gotta marry', now get home right now. I am not joking about this!" His screaming intensified and almost shook his phone out of his hand.

He stopped in his tracks, figuring out the mystery of this case.

"Ma'am you most definitely do have the wrong number. Now I am getting rather worried about your child's safety-"

His voice was cut in half by another voice coming from the background of the phone. 

"Tommy! Ranboo! I'm home!" 

The main person, who he supposed was called 'Tommy' suddenly screeched and yelled into the microphone of the phone, "Who the fuck are you?!". 

"Ma'am I am-"

"I am no 'Ma'am', asshole now why do you have Tubbo's number?!" 

"Sir, I don't have Tubbo's number, I'm sure you just miss clicked-"

"Are you accusing me of miss clicking on my own phone? You prick" and he hung up.

Wilbur stood there, dumbfounded and slightly annoyed by the child. Though he did end up saving the contact under 'MisCliker' and moving on with this horrendous day.

(Time skip and back over the MisCliker's POV:)

Tommy was very mad; in fact, he was the maddest of them all.

His day was complete shit, and nobody was there to help it get any better. 

First, he fell asleep at like 4:00 after having binged his favorite true crime documentary with Ranboo. 

Then, he was late to work because of his god-awful alarm clock which was useless and should die in a fiery pit in hell with the whole species of spiders down there with it. 

Soon after he was greeted by another Karen and his one of his rather favorite locals, Subway Surfer's man who he totally remembered the name of. This boosted up his day a little bit, but it was thrown down the drain again after his boss gave him a new load of food to stack up on and he was stuck organizing the different coffee bags and teabags.

Tommy really hated organizing over everything. 

But he was stuck doing organizing a lot since apparently nobody understood where stuff was when he was doing things. Though since he was one of their only workers at the shop, it was only his job to find things like teabags and the coffee beans. So why should he be stuck organizing his own shit? When it didn't even need organizing in the first place? 

When he came home after his bad day at work, Ranboo fell down and started doing the thing he does where he just says 'Spaghetti' over and over again like some-sort of cult chant you do in a cult-chant. 

Though when he tried calling Tubbo, some random guy had stolen Tubbo's number and taken it as his own! People these days were truly evil and irresponsible. And they call him the child?

_______________________________

A/N:

So yeah, I had a time limit to this chapter and had to write it in like 45 minutes so yeah- the next two or so chapter will come over the span of 3 weeks and be around the size of this chapter. Bye bye little biscuits! (P.S. I didn't proofread this so...)

-Po (A.K.A: The best person alive who owes so many people money)