Red Vs Blue Book of One-Shots

Spooky scary skele- OH MY GOD IS THAT BLOOD ON YOUR SHIRT

(Cute cold puppy hiding under a mistress if you're having a bad day.
His name is Officer Dewey from Scream. He is fluffy and fat and cute.)

Let's just get this straight... Well, straight-ish.

Simmons hated haunted houses. He's only been inside of those torture devices once, and he barely made it out with his life.

Literally.

He had dropped his inhaler while running away from a zombie werewolf, and had to be dragged to the hospital.

It was tragic.

Ever since the horror nation attacked, poor Simmons was that one kid who was too much of a weenie to go trick or treating. He stayed in his house, drank tea, and was a boring nerdy teenager.

What else did you expect?

So when Doc and Donut came prancing into his living room with Netherworld tickets, he automatically shook his head and tried to pick them both out.

"Aw, c'mon Simmons! It'll be like a walk through the park!" Donut begged.

"First of all, it's walk in the park, and that's true if the park is haunted and full of scary shit!"

Donut huffed and crossed his arms.

"Even Doc is going!"

"Yeah!" Cheered Doc, then paused, "Wait, what's that supposed to mean?"

Donut shook his head and held up his hands to suppress further conflict.

"It's Halloween, you have the week off, it'll be fun! I'll even pay for your ticket."

"You're broke, Donut."

"... It's the thought that counts?"

"Ugh, just- if you get out of my living room, I'll go, alright?"

The two overly-happy teens squealed girlishly and highfived, handing Simmons the ticket and sprinted out the door.

Simmons sighed, and plopped down on the couch.

"... No turning back now."

~~~~~

"Dude, if I find any hot costumers, I call them."

"You can't just 'call' costumers, Tucker."

"Shut up Grif. You can have half the guys...?"

"Just because you're bisexual doesn't mean you get to hog all the hot people!"

"Dibs!"

"You-You can't call dibs!"

"Yes I can. I just did it. Dibs."

"You sound like our old boss."

Tucker laughed, nudging Grif's shoulder.

"What do you mean? Our boss is old. All he does is talk about military."

"No, you idiot, I mean Church."