snorkledoot
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“Don’t interrupt me again.” It was menacing, but Frank is tired, and cranky, and he feels like he’s running in circles with some idiot on the phone.
“Okay, sure, I won’t.” Frank hangs up on him.
He presses his fingers to his eyelids and whines in discomfort, trying to recall what sleep feels like. The phone rings again.
Frank answers angrily, and hurts himself with how hard he presses the receiver to his ear. “Okay, fuckhead—“
“Joey, Joey, Joey,” a breathless laugh alongside the name is what the voice rushes out. “Calm down. Be nice. You were so polite the last time we spoke, right?”
Frank pauses, weighs the implications of this in his mind. “Who the fuck is Joey?”
Or the one where the killer who calls the 'wrong number' actually calls the wrong number.
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Summary
On November 16, 2020, Schlatt is confronted and killed in the Camarvan. He is drunk, pissed off and lonely, and simply has a heart attack and fucking dies. There are many worse ways to go. Schlatt has learned that the hard way.
When he awakes, Jschlatt creates a list of priorities—a plan for the future, thank XD. That could have been useful so many times in the past.
1. Do not die
2. Save everyone (if 1 becomes impossible)
3. Formally sign over his workout gear to Quackity
Number one sticks out above the rest, however, because his death is supposed to happen in three days.