12th Knight (OP): New problem: How do we keep ghost hunters from blowing up the cafeteria with bazookas again?

merknlurk: at this poin if it's a recurring problem you should just shut down the school

ChaChaCha: don't do that, they'll just spread to other schools. I don't want the fentons here.

Point25Back: Holy **** mods are asleep post dox

Point25Back: Danny Fentwerp is a a weenie looser hiding mehind the much cooler Phantom Phantom you shoulen't have to deal with this share my account we can be mods together

My Hair: I'm only here because I'm covering the cake bake, but… isn't this a school? Aren't there laws about weapons in schools? Couldn't you just tell them not to come in, then call the cops?

Point25Back: Phantom (MOD) I'm way better at modding I mod my whole school basically. All those nerds know not to mess with Dash Baxter and my rule is law.

THE RULES (TEMP MOD): The law, you say, punk?

[ Point25Back has been banned for one thousand (1000) years.]

merknlurk: no because acab

THE RULES (TEMP MOD): You'd best take those words out of your mouth, son, because there's a new sheriff in town.

[ merknlurk has been banned for one thousand (1000) years.]

Tubalover: I think the safety of children rates a little higher than whatever ideology merk doesn't have.

Tubalover: OMG he was banned for that?

THE RULES (TEMP MOD): The rules are paramount, punk, and cracking heads with the rulebook is the only language some punks understand. Punk.

THE RULES (TEMP MOD): My advice to 12th Knight (OP) is to always follow THE RULES and put those RULE BREAKERS in their place.


Danny stared incredulously at his phone. Then he looked up, at Walker, who… did have a phone, actually. Who gave him a phone? More than anything else, that was against the rules. Walker and phones did not go together in any way, shape, or form.

Except they apparently did.

Danny didn't even know they had a temporary moderator feature in the forums. Had Tucker put that in? Had Jazz? Sam? Or… His gaze narrowed and drifted sideways. Had Technus?

That made sense, actually. One thousand years was not a valid ban time. Someone would have had to mess with the code, and Tucker was way too busy to do that for an in-joke.

Danny and Technus might be having words.


At least the 'mod' title was temporary.

And it was kind of funny.

Whatever. There were more important problems than the community help forums getting taken over by his rogues' gallery… Could he even call them that, honestly? It sounded like such a comic book thing to say.

But. But. He had just been thinking about more important problems, and there was no way that his parents would be deterred by people just telling them to go away. That hadn't even worked on Lunch Lady, and, as evidenced by current circumstances and location, she was much more reasonable than his parents.

It just couldn't be that simple, could it?


"It can't possibly be that simple," said Mrs. Ishiyama, staring up at Mr. Lancer with an expression of horror. "There's just no way."

"Come, now," said Mr. Lancer, his eye twitching. "That's not the principal spirit I know! We'll give it the old Casper High try! Where there's a will, there's a way!" He started laughing, then stopped abruptly. "Lord of the Rings, we're all doomed, aren't we? At least I enjoy that game…"

"Well, if we're doomed," said Mrs. Tetslaff, "at least we'll take the Fentons down with us! Hoo-rah! Pay 'em back for all the times they wrecked my gym!"

"That's, no," said Mrs. Ishiyama, making quelling motions with her hands. "We aren't taking anyone down. Do you think– Do you think maybe the police would come if we called?"

"Do you think they'd come without calling the GIW?" asked Mr. Lancer.

Mrs. Ishiyama sighed. "We're on our own, then." She rubbed her hand over her mouth, thinking. "But it's our only chance, isn't it? I'll do an all call, we need all staff on hand if we're going to pull this off."

"We're… leaving the ghosts chaperoning the children?" asked Mr. Lancer.

"And Mrs. Tetslaff," said Mrs. Ishiyama, smiling brittlely. "After all, you're the Home Ec teacher."

"Aw, no, don't do that to me."

"You're the Home Ec teacher," repeated Mrs. Ishiyama, reaching for the intercom. "Home Ec. Get eccing. Ec."

Mrs. Tetslaff looked back and forth between her two colleagues. "Holy crap, did you both break, or what?"

Mrs. Ishiyama didn't answer. "Hello, all staff not currently directly involved in baking or other preparations please come to the front office. Repeat, all staff not currently involved in baking–"


Well, then. It sounded like they were going to do it. Maybe. Or maybe they'd figured out something else. Danny didn't know. It wasn't like anyone was telling him anything.

A drama student threw yet another green feather boa at him. He sighed heavily. "At this rate, any cake I eat will have feathers in it."

"Oh, don't worry about that, dearie. I'll make sure you don't accidentally consume any non-food items!"

Danny sighed even more heavily. So much for getting any cake at all.

"Hey, don't be like that," said Kitty, prodding his cheek. "I'm sure you'll get plenty of cake."

"Hm," said Danny.

One of the doors into the kitchen opened slightly as a student slipped out. From within poured smoke and a cry of "Oh my lanta, why is it on fire?"

"Yeah," he said. "Lot's of cake."

"That's just how cooking is, sometimes, sweetie. Cookie?"

"You know what? Sure. I'll take the poison at this point."


"So," said Dani. "Now what?" They'd gotten the ghost hunters to the hospital. "Back to harassing the vest guys? If they're still going, that is."

"Maybe," said Val. "Never underestimate what a person will do for money." After all, even she had been bamboozled by the siren call of cash… She shuddered, remembering the Nasty Burger mascot suit. Never again… Unless they were that broke again, then maybe again… She hated not having money… Money sucked…

Dani wrinkled her nose. "They can't be getting that much money from this, can they?"

Val shrugged. "I don't know. They're on TV, aren't they?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, they– Hold up, is that them?" Val pointed down a nearby street.

"I… think so," said Dani, shading her eyes. "Where are they going? There's nothing interesting in that direction unless you count the school. At least, nothing that I know about…"

Valerie's first reaction was to snort. Casper High was not something she'd call interesting at all. The opposite, really. But then… "They're going towards the school?"

"Uh, looks like it to me? I don't spend a lot of time around here, though, so maybe not? Is there some other place they could be going?"

"No," said Valerie, gritting her teeth, "but that's the only haunted place around. We have to figure out how to stop them before they get there."

"The school is haunted?"

"Uh, yeah, your weirdo cousin hangs out there all the time."

"Ohhhh, yeah, I didn't realize that counted."

"Why would it not–? Never mind, we have to work out what to do about this."

"Okay, okay," said Dani. "What if we set the road on fire?"


"Look, I'm out of ideas. We already tripped them up half a dozen times."

"Yeah, yeah," said Valerie. "What if… Do you think they're actually going for the cake? Maybe we could go down and complain about food poisoning while walking past them? Or do you think they'd think that was a ghost."

"Don't you think they might recognize us, though?"

"Yeah, but what else can we do? Just about everyone else is either hiding or at the school already. What if we talked about somewhere else haunted?"

Dani shrugged. "What if we ask the forums? Maybe someone nearby is watching and will have an idea."


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Thread: Investigators going to cake day help

Valorous1 (OP): Investigators (TV show group) are on Stretch Street heading towards Casper High. Ideas/help getting rid of them?

JACK FENTON: OOooo we're goina that way too mayBe we'll run into them! ! #

nobineryginger: is that sposed to be a eart lolllllllll

nobineryginger: good luck tho mr. fenton lollllllll tv day blue

Lovetheshow: isn't he already on TV though?

[ nobineryginger has been banned for one thousand (1000) years.]

Bog Mummy: What you're banning him and not the guy whose username is his actual name?

THE RULES (TEMP MOD): That particular punk is, unfortunately, using technology that makes it difficult for me to ban him.

THE RULES (TEMP MOD): Also, he's married to my daughter.

Phantom (MOD): Then let me.

[ JACK FENTON has been permanently banned.]

[ JACK FENTON has been restricted from viewing forum posts.]



THE RULES (TEMP MOD): What I know is that you're not supposed to be doing anything but sitting pretty and eating cake, punk.

[ Phantom (MOD) has been banned for one (1) hour.]

The Cooler Phantom: Oh wow wo familyy lore wive got a gempa?

West of West: The ******* sheriff ghost is Fenton's grandpa?

[ West of West has been banned for one thousand (1000) years.]

ashtree: I hate it here.


Danny looked up slowly from his phone, the remainder of his possibly poisoned cookie crumbling in his hand as his fingers clenched. Walker looked up at him and smirked, every line of his posture unbelievably smug.

Danny hoped he knew he was going to hunt him down and leave him in the thermos for a month for pulling this stunt.

Well, probably not literally a month. He couldn't afford to keep a thermos reserved for a single occupant for that long. But still. It was the thought that counted. Probably.

Ugh. Was this some kind of karma for wishing he had at least one relative that wasn't crazy at Christmas? Had Desiree been around that time? Was Walker just messing with him?

… No, there was no way, was there? That had to be against the rules. But Danny really, really wanted to be in denial about this.

So he glared at Walker even harder.

If possible, Walker looked back at him even smugger.


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Valorous1 (OP): Last attempt at this thread got weird, so here we go again. Investigators (TV show group) are on Stretch Street heading towards Casper High. Ideas/help getting rid of them?

tubahater: stretch street, you say? On the way to chs? Hey Tubalover how do we feel about flash mobs?

Tubalover: I thought you'd never ask.

passthemike: Why aren't you guys at Cake Day? I thought you were really into it?

tubahater: in addition to my hatred of tubas, I also despise gluten.

Tubalover: He has celiac disease, don't mind him.


"What's a flash mob?" asked Dani.

Valerie shrugged.


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Forums - All Community - Hobbies and Interests - Music - Stretch Street Brass Band



76trombones: YEAH

formercolorguard: ALL RIGHT


Killiope: y r we keeping this in here lets put it in the main music page


"Oh," said Nathan. "This is going to be good. I can't believe we're going to miss it."

Lester, frantically stirring icing. "What? What are you talking about?"



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Killiope (OP): Hey stretch street peeps we're doing a music flash mob to kill the paranormal weirdos

Tubalover: I'm begging you we are not killing anyone

SweetSax: Why are we leaving this in here? Shouldn't everyone on stretch street know about this?


Tucker glanced at the new notification as Sam dragged him along.

"Hey," he said, narrowing his eyes, "wait a second, celiac disease? Is that– No. No way. They're not on the forums!"

"What are you talking about?" hissed Sam.

"They talked about gay kissing! Online! It can't be them!"

"What are you talking about?"


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SweetSax: If you've got tunes bring your tunes deets to foollow


Angela and Maurice Foley ran out into Stretch Street carrying tubas.


"I can't believe this," said Tucker. "I can't believe this. I will never again be able to show my face."

"You're being overdramatic. Focus on actually kicking Mr. Fenton out of the forums this time."


"Why are there so many people with brass instruments living on this street?" asked Valerie, vaguely horrified.

"I think some of them are coming from other streets," said Dani, helpfully. "And not all of them have brass instruments, I don't think. That guy has a boom box."


Something that sounded like a dozen bands having a collision in the middle of a tone-deafness support group convention reached Danny's ears, despite the way that Tucker was still wailing about his parents being online (like, seriously, did he think his were the only ones? When Danny's dad was a continued menace to Amity Park's online community? Sheesh.) through the Fenton Phones. But Danny was supposed to sit quietly and eat cake and not do anything else.

Of course, there wasn't any cake yet, and from the racket coming from the kitchen, he was starting to doubt there would be.


"What," said Mr. Lancer, "is that noise?"

"Until it shows up here, it isn't our problem," said Mrs. Ishiyama.

"It sounds like three dozen drunk college students trying to play 'Seventy-Six Trombones' while also on acid," said the music teacher, speculatively. "Also, without actually having any trombones."

"Not. Our. Problem," repeated Mrs. Ishiyama with a forced smile. "Only the Fentons are our problem."



"Hng," said Jimmy.

"This flash mob kind of sucks," said Ned. "Like, there's no coordination."

"SECURITY," shouted the director fruitlessly. "SECURITY!"


"Oh, hey," said Crawly, attempting to maneuver around a very enthusiastic group of middle-aged men with trumpets, "do you think this is, like, a, um, a supernatural flash mob, or just a flash mob?"

"Just a flash mob," said Bill, clearly disappointed.

"Still better than a scam, I guess. Man, I hate being scammed. We should get a refund."

"From who?" asked Bill.

"Dunno. Maybe I'll just take it out of them in cake. I can eat a lot of cake, you know. How much cake can you eat, Bill?"

"I'm not sure. I've never pushed myself to the limit before."

"Well, then, we can make it a contes–"

A woman with a piccolo came up behind them and started screeching, making them both jump.

"Oh, wow," said Crawly, their hand over their heart, "I think I hate it here."

The woman cackled. "That's the spirit, sweetheart!"

"I really hate it here."


"Huh," said Jack, "looks like there's some kind of event happening over there. Live music?"

"Yes," said Maddie. She tapped the side of her goggles. "But no ghosts that I can see. We need to keep going to the school. Let's go around this area."

"You've got it, Mads! Hey, do you think we finally ran that pesky ghost-boy off?"

"Seems like it." She sighed. "It's too bad, in some ways, but protecting the children comes first!"

"Absolutely! And those ghosts won't know what hit them!"


"I will have cake," said Ned, pushing through the crowd. "I will."

"Maybe we should just, I don't know, give up and get back in the car," said Az, hooking his finger over his shoulder at where the film crew was still following them. "I mean, I'm sure we're going to get fired over this already anyway."

Ned looked at the car with scorn, and then at the crew still trying to film. His expression softened somewhat, then hardened again as he observed the director. "No way. Then we'll be stuck in there with him. Jimmy, help me out, here."

"Mh," said Jimmy. He turned to Ned, picked him up under the armpits and held him over his head before running in the general direction of the school, deftly dodging all obstacles in his path.

Az's shoulders slumped. "I never know what's going on with those too anymore."


"Hey," said Crawly, "are we sure that guy isn't a cryptid?"

"No way," said Bill, "I mean, I can do that. It's not that weird."

"You can do that?" asked Crawly.

"I mean, sure?"

Crawly held their arms out to either side. "Do it," they said.


Maurice and Angela Foley watched the two main groups of paranormalists race through the crowd with expressions of disbelief.

"How are they doing that?" asked Maurice, knuckles white where he gripped his tuba.

"I don't know," said Angela, who still had the valves in place for the last note she'd played. "Are we sure they're human?"

"I have no idea… Wait. Wait a second. I have an idea. It could solve everything."

"Well, if it helps Tucker and his friends I'm all for it.


Excerpts from a text message conversation on the phone of Maurice Foley.

Maurice: Heya Jack. Me and Ang were watching the hullabaloo over on Stretch St. and we wanted your opinion on this: [Series of image of two large men carrying smaller, t-posing people over their heads while running through a crowd.]

Maurice: We were wondering if it was a ghost thing, and if so, could you take care of it?

Maurice: It's wigging Ang out a little and we'd appreciate it.

Jack: NOWORRIES thAT's TOTall y normal!

Jack: MAds and I can do THAT no PRoblem!11!


"It's okay, dear, it was a good idea," said Angela, patting Maurice's back. "At least we've given the kids a bit more time to prepare, haven't we?"


Valerie and Dani, still situated on a nearby roof, watched with disbelief as the Fentons slowed slightly, Maddie spread her arms out into a T-pose, and Jack grabbed her under her armpits, lifting her up over his head.

"What the heck," said Val. She looked over at the parallel street, where the paranormal guys were running down the street in similar positions. "Did these guys suddenly develop telepathy or something?"

"No way," said Dani. "Telepathy looks way different. I bet it's for a meme."

"What meme looks like this?"

"I don't know. But it kind of looks like it should be a meme, doesn't it?"

"I guess," said Valerie, as the paranormalists were blocked by an aggressive contingent of barbershop quartets. "But I could do without it becoming one."


"What are they doing?" asked Mr. Lancer, real fear in his voice.

"Don't break!" said Mrs. Ishiyama. "This is just an intimidation tactic!"

"Well, Art of War, it's working!"

The Fentons approached, Maddie held high in the air by her husband, who was running towards them at a speed that, in a saner world, might have seen him on an Olympic track team.

"STOP!" shrieked Mrs. Ishiyama.

Remarkably (or maybe not so remarkably, the teachers had made a fairly solid roadblock in front of the school entrance - then again, Jack Fenton was known to go through walls at speed), they did stop.

"Hiya, Danny and Jazz's teachers! We're just here to get those pesky ghosts out of your hair!"

Maddie cocked her ecto-rifle… or whatever that thing was. Mr. Lancer didn't really know. "Permanently."

"There aren't any ghosts here," squeaked Mr. Falluca as the other teachers converged on Jack and Maddie, surrounding them.

"And even if there were, you can't bring that into the school," said Mrs. Ishiyama. "You can't bring any weapons into the school."

"Since when?" asked Jack, apparently flabbergasted.

"Since always," said Mrs. Ishiyama firmly. Mr. Lancer, however, could see her hands shaking behind her back.

"But you've let us in with weapons before."

"You'll note that I never 'let you in,'" said Ishiyama, "and those times were always during active ghost attacks, which this is not."

"But there are ghosts inside."

"No there aren't!" repeated Mr. Falluca. "There are absolutely no ghosts! None!"


Unnoticed by the teachers or the Fentons, the pairs of Crawly and Bill and Ned and Jimmy pushed past the last lines of flash mob defense and made it to the school.

"What's going on over there?" asked Crawly.

"Don't make eye contact," said Bill. "Anyone wearing stuff like that in broad daylight is probably disturbed."

"I don't know, they just look like teachers to me."


Danny's eyes darted towards the doors as they opened and he was faced with the dreaded sight. The youtubers and paranormal investigators. Together. He wasn't the only one who looked up and went still at the sight, but it took both groups a minute and several steps alongside the perimeter of the room to realize that they'd just become the center of attention.

"Why is everyone staring?" asked Ned. Then he grinned. "I supposed you've all seen me on T–"

"You!" shouted Crawly, pointing at Danny.

"Uh, me?"

"How did you get here before us?" they demanded.

"I've been here all day," said Danny.

"No, you haven't. We chased you all around town, you– you cryptid faker!"

"Ohh," said Danny, "you must have seen someone else in the same costume. Phantom's pretty popular, he's, like, the town's mascot."

"Hey," said Jazz, sidling up next to Crawly. Her new drama-class provided outfit was so bad Danny's heart literally skipped a beat and he had to grab onto the table so he wouldn't fall out of his chair. "It sounds like you've had a rough day, why don't you–"

"Maybe I'd buy that, but what's with all the costumes?" demanded Crawly.

"It's a community thing," said Danny with a shrug, hoping his distress regarding Jazz's sartorial choices wasn't obvious. "You know, for the tourists. Most haunted town in America or whatever."

"Much easier to be the ghosts than to hope one shows up," said Ida Manson, helpfully. She was wearing an Ember wig, and Danny wasn't sure if that increased or damaged her credibility. In any case, it was still better than what Jazz was wearing.

Crawly opened and closed their mouth several times. "You know what?" they asked. "I give up. Just give me c–"

At this point, the door to the kitchen, which Crawly was standing directly in front of, slammed open, shoving them into the side, and a surprisingly ornate seven-story cake was wheeled out by Paulina and Star, to raucous cheers.

Lunch Lady wiped a tear away from her eye. "They learned so well."


Outside, some distance away from the teachers, Jack and Maddie conferred.

"The children must be hostages, for the teachers to act like this," said Maddie.

"Yeah!" said Jack. "They've got to be, or they'd never just kick us out like this. Our weapons aren't harmful to humans at all."

"We'll have to find another way in," said Maddie.


"They're about to go through one of the walls, aren't they?" asked Mr. Lancer, resigned.

"Looks like it," said Mrs. Ishiyama, also resigned.


Unbeknownst to the faculty or the Fentons, Az had also just made it out of the flash mob mosh pit that was once Stretch Street. He took his phone out of his pocket and dialed nine-one-one.


Transcript of a call made to the Amity Park Emergency Services Line.

OPERATOR: Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?

CALLER: Hey, uh, there are these weirdos - two weirdos - standing in front of this school - Casper High - with what looks like weapons.

OPERATOR: Can you tell what kind of weapons?

CALLER: No I'm not very close, I can't tell what kind.

OPERATOR: Just the general kind is fine. Knives? Guns? Swords? Bats?

CALLER: I mean, guns, right?

OPERATOR: Thank you, sir. Are you able to stay on the line?

CALLER: Yes, I'll stay on the line– Oh my god! They just ran through the wall!

OPERATOR: Wait… are these weirdos dressed in orange and blue jumpsuits?

CALLER: I– yes? How–?

OPERATOR: Don't worry about it. We'll send someone.


The cake was, of course, demolished.

The entire room stared at it with even greater horror than that which they had visited on the paranormal investigators.

"Mom! Dad! What are you doing?" demanded Jazz.

"We're rescuing you from gh– Young lady, what are you wearing?"

"Do you see any ghosts here?" asked Jazz, spreading her hands. She pointed at Ida Manson, then at several drama students. "Do any of these people look like ghosts?"

"Well, that one–"

"No!" Jazz slapped Jack's hand, forcing it down. "That's Spike! How do you still not recognize any of my friends?"

"Well, maybe if you brought any of them home, sweetheart–"

"Ugh! We can discuss my teenage rebellion at home. At least you haven't destroyed the walls to my room this week!" She stalked out through the hole Jack Fenton had made in the wall, the sunlight catching on her black miniskirt, her thigh-high sparkling white boots, and the crop top that read 'it's not gay if he's dead' in comic sans. All topped, of course, by the obviously handmade Ember wig.

"Don't walk away from us, young lady!" With that, the Fenton parents disappeared through the hole they had made.

Danny… could not believe that had worked.

"Hey," said Kitty, "wait. Did we seriously go through all of this for no cake?"

Paulina began laughing hysterically. "Of course we didn't make only one cake! We made many cakes! Huge cakes! That was just– That was just the most beautiful– The beautiful–" She broke down crying, and Star led her away.

Behind them, Mrs. Tetslaff cleared her throat. "Okay, yeah. Plenty of other cakes to eat, people."

"Hey," said the paranormalist who hadn't been squished. "Shouldn't we get out of the structurally compromised room first?"

"What are you talking about?" asked Tetslaff.

"Yeah!" said Nathan. "The room's fine! He didn't hit a support pillar or anything!"

Ned put a hand on Jimmy's shoulder. "Jimmy, I have to admit, I was having some fantasies about you feeding me cake, but I think I just want to go home now."

"Hnm," said Jimmy.

"Glad you agree. Uh, Crawler or whatever your name is, do you need help, or…?"

"No," said Crawly, voice muffled, "I live here now. On the floor of shame."

"They'll be fine," said Bill. "Things like this happen all the time when you're hunting cryptids."

"Uhhhh," said Crawly.

"Great. You do you. Come on, let's go, Jimmy."

"Holy crap," said Sam. "Did we just win?"

"Even if we've won we've lost. The knowledge I have gained should have remained buried."

"Stop being melodramatic about your parents being on the internet, Tucker."

"Not quite," whispered Danny. "The Cryptid Crawl guys are still here."


"What are you doing with your phone?" asked Ned after he spotted and made his way to his brother.

"I was calling the police," said Az, faintly.

"Because of the–"

"Because of the people who made the hole in the wall, yeah," said Az. "You know, something is very wrong with this place, but I don't think I want to know what it is."

"Me neither. Let's go back to the hotel."


"Oh, hey," said Danny to Star as she started serving cake to the 'head' table, "what happened to the record-breaking cake? I don't think I see it here."

"And you won't," said Star. "Not unless you go out to the Ghost Zone or something."

"Ah," said Danny.

"Yeah, ah. Enjoy your cake privileges while they last, by the way. Paulina and Dash are furious that you wrecked the stuff they put together for that Phantom outfit."

Danny sighed. "Back to normal already, then."

The cake was surprisingly good.

(He studiously ignored the sound of sirens outside the school. If he pretended hard enough, he could almost believe it wasn't his parents getting arrested. Again. At least they probably wouldn't be arrested for very long. They never were.)

(And also, he could pretend that Walker wasn't his grandfather.)

(And also– oh, who was he kidding? Nothing about his life was ever going to be normal, and he couldn't really pretend about it, either.)

(But at least the cake was good.)


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Thread: Did anyone else think this was surprisingly fun?

Cynosure (OP): Not that I'd want to do any of this again, but honestly, in retrospect, the overall experience was enjoyable? Does anyone else feel like this?

Phantom (MOD): No, but at least the cake was good.


[Video switches away from the school cafeteria, back to Crawly in their apartment in front of their Cryptid Crawl banner.]

Anyway, I lived on the floor for a while after that. It wasn't so bad. Every so often, a teenager covered in flour would give me cake, though, so it wasn't that bad. But you want to know the worst thing? That fast food worker in that one video? Yeah, she came in, but that stupid low-quality video made her look like… five years older than she actually is in-person. She's definitely a minor, and now I have what I said in the other video on the internet for all eternity. Also, those posters totally lied. Vlad Masters never showed up even a little bit.

Just… wow. What a bust on all levels. Not even the tiger was a real cryptid. Guess that goes to show you not to believe everything you see on the internet, no matter how good it sounds, am I right? Well, this is Cryptid Crawl, signing off. As usual, contributors listed in the credits.

[Video briefly goes black. A list of usernames begins to scroll by, faster than possible to read. Video ends.]