There Are Three Types of People

gose says TRE but its actually DUO | also its TWO different languages

The fog rolled in thicker than a bowl of oatmeal, blanketing Gloomsville in an eerie hush that made even the bravest souls reconsider their evening plans. Mortimer "Morty" Blunderbuss, Prudence "Prude" Pumpernickel, and Chuckles McGee found themselves standing in the grand foyer of the abandoned mansion, still recovering from their last encounter with the mysterious figure. Little did they know that tonight's adventure would take a decidedly darker turn—or perhaps a more absurd one.

As they dusted themselves off and tried to regain their composure, a loud crash echoed from the depths of the mansion. It was followed by a sinister chuckle that sent shivers down their spines.

"What was that?" Prude asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She tightened her grip on her flashlight, which flickered ominously as if it were just as scared as she was.

"Probably just another ghost looking for snacks," Chuckles replied with a grin, completely unfazed. "You know how they get when they're hungry! I mean, who wouldn't want to munch on some good old-fashioned fear?"

Morty's eyes widened as he glanced nervously at his friends. "Should we check it out? Or maybe we should run away and never look back?"

"Morty, we can't just leave!" Prude exclaimed, her logical mind racing. "We need to figure out what's happening here. This is an abandoned mansion, not a theme park!"

"Exactly! No lines for rides!" Chuckles added cheerfully. "And I don't see any cotton candy stands either. What gives?"

Before they could argue further, another crash resonated through the hall, louder this time, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps—heavy and deliberate.

"Okay, that's definitely not a ghost," Prude said, her voice rising in pitch. "That sounds like someone—or something—coming for us!"

Morty's face turned pale as he began to back away slowly. "Maybe we should just hide? You know, like behind this conveniently placed suit of armor?" He gestured toward an ancient suit of armor standing awkwardly in the corner.

"Morty, that's not going to work! It's too obvious!" Prude insisted.

Chuckles shrugged nonchalantly. "I mean, if we die here tonight, at least we'll have some great stories to tell! 'Remember that time we hid behind a suit of armor and got caught?' Classic!"

Just then, the door to the ballroom swung open with a creak that echoed through the hall like a death knell. A shadowy figure emerged from within—tall and menacing with an air of malevolence that would make even Dracula reconsider his life choices.

"Who dares enter my domain?" it growled ominously.

Morty yelped and stumbled backward into Prude, who nearly dropped her flashlight in surprise. Chuckles stepped forward with an exaggerated bravado that only he could muster.

"Hey there! We're just three friends looking for a good time! You wouldn't happen to have any snacks, would you?" he called out cheerfully.

The figure blinked slowly, clearly taken aback by this unexpected response. "You... you're not afraid?"

"Of course not!" Chuckles replied with a grin. "I've got plot armor! I'm practically invincible!"

The figure looked utterly confused but then shook its head as if trying to clear it. "This is not how this is supposed to go..."

Before anyone could process this bizarre exchange further, Morty suddenly turned to run—but tripped over his own feet yet again and fell flat on his face.

"Morty!" Prude shouted as she rushed forward to help him up.

"Why do I keep falling?" Morty groaned while trying to regain his footing.