Charlie ripped the door to her flat open, roaring, “COME ON, CANDICE! WE’RE GONNA BE LATE!!” Not even waiting for her roommate to reply, the young woman hastily changed from her professional clown outfit into her wrestling uniform right there in the doorway. She didn’t even bother attempting to salvage her now-smeared makeup, and instead began arranging her long russet hair into its signature ‘battle bun’.

The aforementioned blonde in question giggled hysterically and bolted frantically to and fro in the wrecked remains of their sad little kitchen, the two separate grease fires on the stove climbing ominously high despite being taken off the heat as the dishwasher gurgled and sputtered the tell-tale beginnings of an ill-advised sud based detergent from its mechanical lips. All the while, the toaster belched black smoke and sparked electricity, almost drowning out the steady burble of the toilet overflowing down the hall. The fire alarm shrieked over it all, completing the symphony of chaos.