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The one of the worst days of Stan’s life started with the two smartest people he has ever known being dumber than him. Stan told both of the Fords™ to not to mess around with that spooky fucking gem ring they found in the woods.
Now here he is, a broken ring in his hand and some buzzing skin. It looked like his skin absorbed the colors of the ring, sparkles dotting all of his skin with black splotches sporadically spread out. He looked like a cereal mascot with how sparkly he is now, he could be a toy in a Toys "R" Us. This was such bullshit.
Stan was just moving the ring off of the dinner table while the nerd patrol was off doing something deeper in the house. It had been a long day and Stan had made some chicken enchiladas with green sauce he was excited to eat. Instead now he has to deal with whatever curse the gemstone ring just gave him, hopefully it's just changing his skin and nothing else.
“Hey Ford,” Stan called exasperatedly into the house, walking towards the oven to take the enchiladas out. He figured that he might as well finish what he was originally doing while he waits for either of the Fords to come back.
The timer started dinging before he even reached the oven, a smile crossing his face as he neared. His twin hasn't responded to his yell but to be fair, he could be anywhere in this maze of a house. Ford’s view of building this house was lab space, not organization.
Everything started falling apart the moment that he tried to grab the oven handle. His hand went straight through the handle, making him stumble. He stared at his now multicolored hand with wide eyes, a pit of dread growing in his stomach. This might be a problem.
“Ford!” Stan yelled, listening to the annoying ding of the timer and standing in front of the oven. He kept trying to grab at the handle, hoping that it was a fluke. Maybe he just wasn't trying hard enough, he just needed to try again and again until something else happened.
Stan yelled out in frustration, he watched as the food in the oven started to burn. Smoke was starting to pour into the cavity, the top of the enchiladas starting to turn a deep black color. He worked hard on that, made the green sauce from scratch and everything. Now it was going to burn completely, maybe even take the kitchen with it!
Taking a deep breath, Stan tries to grab at the oven handle again. His hand goes through it again, tears welling in Stan’s eyes as he tries again and again. No matter how hard he tried, the enchiladas in the oven just kept burning, smoke beginning to start sneaking out of the seal of the door.
Sprinting out of the room to grab Ford, he didn’t know where a fire extinguisher was in this maze of a house! Sliding around the bends to get into whatever lab the Fords™ were in, not grabbing onto any wall just in case he goes straight through it and gets lost in his own house. Bursting through the hallway into the middle house lab Stan sees both of the nerds standing together by a white board and trading notes.
“Ford! Oh my god Ford, I can’t grab anything! The food I was making in the oven is burning because I can't open the damn door!” Stan hurridley explained as he ran straight over to them, “That stupid ring you left on the counter broke on me and now look!”
There was a long pause that made Stan have chills run down his spine. He hadn’t looked at either of the Fords™ since he got close, Stan had been staring at the ceiling, looking for smoke the moment he knew he wouldn't break anything. Now after not getting a response from either of them, Stan looked back down.
Neither of them had moved an inch, not even an eyebrow twitch or head tilt in his direction.
“Hey nerd patrol!” Stan snapped in their face, “I said the house is going to burn down.”
Still no response, not even a small flinch at the snaps. Stan could feel his breathing start to quicken, panic beginning to bubble deep inside him. He traced every part of the two men infront of him, looking for anything that showed that this was just a cruel joke. He grabbed at the notebook in Ford's right hand, trying to get anyones attention.
Just like in the kitchen, his hand went straight through.
“Oh god,” Stan gasped out, the world falling out from under him, “You can't hear me can you.”
A pit opened deep inside his stomach, his eyes going wide and shoulders dropping. There was nothing he could do to stop the fire in the kitchen, no way to get their attention about his new problem.
Stan just numbly walked back to the kitchen, watching as smoke began to pour down the hallway towards the lab. He stood in the middle of the kitchen and looked around at the story left behind from before this stupid curse.
The table is almost completely set, dishes in the sink, oven mitts on the counter next to the oven. Everything in the room was perfect before this, Stan was so excited to eat some comfort food. It was hard to get fresh tomatillos for the green sauce that's burning in the oven right now. It took him hours to perfect the spice ratio so Ford didn’t die from it, he even made the tortillas for this.
The rapid sound of footsteps came banging from down the hall, yelling echoing through the house. Both Ford and Fiddleford came into the kitchen, eyes tracing the room before getting to work. Stan slumped onto the floor with his back to the wall in the kitchen, watching the two men try and clear the smoke out of the house.
He felt numb, No one could hear him and he couldn’t move anything. He was worse than a ghost, he still felt hungry and every part of his normal body functions were working the same as before. But now he can't touch anything and his skin is stained with crazy patterns of color, looking like an oil spill was covering his body.
Hopefully either Fiddleford or his twin would realise Stan was missing, maybe even put together the fact that the ring was in pieces on the ground by the table. Unless the ring was in the same boat as Stan, then he might be stuck like this forever. In a house with other people, he was completely alone.