Creepypasta Headcannon Oneshots: Book One

The One With The Irradiated Whipped Cream (feat. a very angry offenderman)

"These two are not allowed in the same room alone during the early hours of the morning because of an incident involving waffles, fire, whipped cream, coffee, and a very angry Offenderman."

Now, full disclosure: Toby was under the impression that whipped cream was not incredibly flammable. So was Clockwork, and about every other damn human on the planet.

But apparently that didn't extent to irradiated whipped cream, because woah. That shit made an amazing firebomb.

But, back to more important stuff: currently, it was 3:14 in the morning, Toby and his girlfriend Clockwork were running on an inordinate amount of caffeine and a prayer or two, and the towering plate of waffles they'd fixed was currently, as the words above implied, flaming like anything that came out of Satan's domain.

Clockwork was trying to keep calm; "Alright," she whispered, eye huge as she watched the flames. "This is fine. This is perfectly normal."

Toby, predictably was much less calm; "Sl-Slender's g-g-gonna kill me!" He hissed, tearing his hands through his hair. "O-Oh fuck me, i-i-it's all over *tic* n-now- Clocky, b-b-b-bury me b-by the- the tree-"

"Pull yourself together!" Clockwork snapped, shaking him so violently Toby thought he could hear his teeth rattle in his head. "We need to dispose of this flaming monstrosity, and we need to do it quietly."

Toby nodded, eyes wide; "R-Right," he agreed, nervously looking around. "H-How?"

"Toss it out the window," Clockwork answered. "The snow's like 4 feet deep, it oughta douse the flames."

Toby nodded again; "Right, right." He said, then carefully, ever so carefully, began moving the plate of flaming waffles to the window.

Everything was going so well- so, so well- they were almost at the window, when-

"What are you two doing up so late?"

With a high-pitched shriek of terror, Toby whirled around, coffee brain telling him to launch his Flaming Plate Of Waffles at whatever had disturbed him.

Big. Mistake.

"Ok. Now we're in trouble," Clockwork whispered as Offenderman clawed at his face, screaming his nonexistent lungs out.

Face pale, Toby nodded; "Run?" He suggested, and Clockwork nodded.

"Run."

(Ok, serious talk:
I'm losing motivation to write this.
It's not that I can't write this, as evidenced above, but it's not my top priority, and honestly, it hasn't been for a while.
I'm so, so, so sorry, guys. I know exactly how it feels when an author abandons a fic that you've grown to like (at least I'm assuming you guys like this story) and I feel so bad for this, but I'm sorry, I just can't.
Maybe one day I'll come back to this, or, more likely, update this with Daniel Howell levels of sporadically, but for now, consider this story on a bit of a break, of sorts.
I'm sorry, guys.)