Live in the piggy household

The house was already loud before the sun even came up.

Not “normal loud.” Not “people getting ready for the day” loud.

More like—something crashed, someone screamed, and somebody else yelled “MY BAD” from across the house.

“WHO PUT A TRAFFIC CONE IN THE SHOWER?!”

Kitty stood in the bathroom doorway, dripping wet, holding the cone like it had personally offended her.

From the kitchen, Mimi didn’t even look up from her phone. “Decoration.”

“That’s not decoration, that’s a hazard!”

In the living room, Clowny was spinning in circles on an office chair, holding a phone out.

“CHAT, CHAT, WATCH THIS—”

The chair tipped.

He disappeared behind the couch with a loud thud.

A pause.

“…I’m okay.”

Meanwhile, Robby stood in the corner, completely still.

Then suddenly: “INITIATING BREAKFAST PROTOCOL.”

He opened the fridge.

Paused.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

“ERROR. THERE IS ONLY ENERGY DRINKS.”

From somewhere upstairs, Tigry yelled, “THAT IS BREAKFAST!”

Upstairs was worse.

Way worse.

Zompiggy was trying to microwave a slice of pizza for the fourth time.

He stared through the glass like it was a life-or-death situation.

“Why is it sparking.”

“Because you left the fork on it,” Devil said, not even glancing up from painting his nails black.

“Oh.”

The microwave sparked again.

Neither of them moved.

In the hallway, Parasee was lying flat on the floor scrolling.

“Anyone else feel like existing is kinda mid today?”

“Yeah,” Angel replied, walking past with a halo slightly tilted. “But like… aesthetically mid.”

Downstairs again—

Torcher had somehow gotten hold of a lighter.

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

“You absolutely do NOT—”

Too late.

A small flame burst up from something that should not have been flammable.

Soldier immediately turned the corner like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment.

“FIRE?!”

“NO—YES—MAYBE—”

“EVERYONE CALM DOWN!”

Nobody calmed down.

Outside, Crove was perched on the roof, watching everything unfold through the window like it was a live show.

“…this is better than TV.”

Back inside—

Raze sprinted through the hallway.

“WHO ATE MY LEFTOVER NUGGETS?!”

“Finders keepers,” Badgy said from the couch, not even trying to hide the empty box.

“You’re actually evil.”

“Correct.”

And in the middle of all of it—

Mr. Stitchy just stood in the corner.

Watching.

Silent.

Unmoving.

Completely ominous.

“…why is he just standing there?” Katie whispered.

Owell shrugged. “Vibes.”

Something exploded in the kitchen.

Someone started laughing.

Someone else started recording.

And somehow—despite the fire, the chaos, the questionable life choices—

nobody was even slightly concerned.

Because to them?

This was normal.

And it was only 8:12 AM.