Your phone pings with a Discord notification. Looks like you were invited to a chat. With a shrug you pick up the phone and open the voice call.
“There you are, man!” Jack, a friend and neighbor of yours said, “We were a little worried about you. Heard you breathed in some of that fog gas.”
“I’m fine, Jack,” you say, “it was just a couple wisps of it. Only added about fifty pounds... ish. Nothing a little exercise can’t fix.”
“Yeah, maybe when the fog clears,” injected Rodger, another friend of yours, “I think I put on something over a hundred from how much I breathed in. Can confirm, shit smells like a Burger King grease trap.”
“I put on 300 from the fog,” Cindy, (one of) the female(s) of your friend group added, “and I feel great! Kinda don’t wanna go back *bworp!* to being a skinny bitch after it clears! Heck, I’m thinking about going back outside and just go full flesh pile!”
Everyone else in the vc tried to change her mind about that idea, but she just laughed.
“I’m fucking with you guys!” she chortled, “Hell no am I going back out there without a gas mask! I’m big enough as it is!” You could hear her smack her stomach through the call.
“Oh that’s a good point,” Jack replied, “Anyone else got a gas mask? I got plenty, and I’m willing to brave the grease fog to bring you guys some.”
“Got mine,” Rodger said, “Not like there’s any point. Nowhere’s open right now.”
“I don’t have one,” you admit.
“Do you want one of mine?” Jack asks you.