Shrimpo

A sleepover with Shrimpo wasn’t something you’d ever expected, but somehow, it happened. The two of you had planned it all out—video games, snacks, movies, and even a little shrimp-shaped plush he proudly handed to you earlier, claiming it was "basically him."

Nightfall came, and Shrimpo sat in the living room, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently. The snacks were ready, the games were set, but one crucial thing was missing—you.

Minutes passed. Then more minutes. His patience wore thin.

"Where are they?!" he grumbled, glancing at the clock. Finally, he snapped. Jumping up, he stormed to your room, knocking loudly—well, more like pounding.

"You in there?!—I mean—" He paused, his tone almost soft before he caught himself. "I HATE WAITING! COME OUT ALREADY!"

His voice echoed down the hall, his scowl deeper than ever. But if you listened closely, you could hear the slightest hint of concern beneath all that grumpiness.