The lights began flickering again, and then completely turned off, and this time no one was touching it, and Eminem knew it. He looked around, and couldnt see a thing, but jumped back in surprise as he felt a hand cupping his pants.

"What the fuck?!" He yelled, and the lights turned back on. He looked down and saw Steph crouching on the floor, one hand on the crotch of his pants, the other grasping his pant leg. "What are you DOING?" He yelled, and she let go of him immediatly, and straightened up.

"I was just, um protecting you." She shrugged.

"PROTECTING ME FROM WHAT?" He shouted, pissed off that he was being fondeled so much tonight. First the ass pinching just minutes ago, now this.

"Um, from Micheal Jackson." She said, as if Eminem should have known.

"Well, she has a point Em," Swift nodded. "Would you rather have Micheal grabbing you, or this chick." He stared at Eminem for a moment, and a grin broke out over his face. "Sorry, silly question."

"Shut up, shut UP." Eminem growled. "This is the stupid thing, theres no spirit, I-" He looked around quickly and then yelled, clearly annoyed, "WHERE THE FUCK IS THIS DAMN MUSIC COMING FROM?"

"Its, him." Steph said, pointing to the kitchen table, where a shadow was moonwalking backwards across the table.

D12s eyes widened, and the music stopped, the shadow dissapeared, and they looked to Steph, almost looking scared.

"I told you! And look, hes loose, you pissed him off! Now hes going to, going to," She couldnt bring herself to say it, and as she tried, a loud shriek peirced the room, but it didnt come from any of the 7 people/penguin in the room, and the lights shut off again.

"Shit, lets get the fuck out of here," Eminem muttered. "Id like to know why we dont have security in this story..."

"And 20 other readers," She replied. "You cant leave, anyways, The doors all lock themselves when the spirits out, believe me Ive tried. Ive had to jump out windows, and stuff."

"Is the spirit really that bad?" Proofs voice asked, almost quivering.

"Uh, I dont know, I just wanted to get some pizza those times. I mean, a penguins gotta eat." She shrugged.

The light went back on, and all 6 of them sighed with relief. WAIT, 6 OF THEM? WASNT THERE 7 A MINUTE AGO?

"Wheres Kon Artis?" Kuniva said, looking around the kitchen.

"He was just standing next to me," Bizzarre looked to his left.

"BIZZARRE!" Steph yelled, and grabbed a loaf of bread off the counter behind her. "THERE IS FOOD AT MY HOUSE, YOU DIDNT HAVE TO EAT YOUR FRIEND!"

"Haha," Proof patted Bizzarres stomach and grinned. "You know at thanksgiving, there aint no left overs at this guys house!"

"Guys, seriously, where-" Kuniva was cut off by the sound of a scream, unusually girlish, coming from outside the window, next to the kitchen table.

They all raced to the window, and Steph held her arms out, stopping them from going any closer. Kon Artis was being dangled out of the window by a shadow. "The spirits got him..." She said solemnly, watching Kon Artis kicking his legs wildly.

"Help! Guys, get me the fuck out of here, shit!" Kon Artis yelled.

"Dont!" Steph advised the remaining members of D12. "You might get taken too."

"We cant just leave him hanging there," Proof tried to push Steph aside, but he was too late. The spirit dropped him, and dissappeared.

They all rushed to the window, looking out it, their friend falling down into Stephs backyard, screaming.

------------

"FUCK!" Kon Artis screamed, feeling his body hit the seat underneath him, and he opened his eyes, looking around. He was.... In the car. What the fuck? He raised an eyebrow and looked to his left. Bizzarre was sitting there, comfortably. He blinked. Was it a dream?

"What the fuck are you doing, man, you were kicking my seat like crazy..." Proof said bitterly.

"I think he was dreaming, he was sleeping." Bizzarre said, smiling at his friend.

"So, it was a dream?" Kon Artis gulped.

"What was a dream?"

"Micheal Jackson, and-"

"Ew, nasty motherfucker, dont be dreaming about that shit right next to me," Bizzarre wrinkled his face.

"No, see it was..."

"Kon, YO!" Marshall yelled, cutting him off. "WE DONT WANT TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR WET DREAMS!"

Kon Artis shook his head and sat back, looking out his window. He was just glad it was a dream. Ever since that horrific incident at Victors house, with Bob Barkers head, he couldnt seem to sleep peacefully. The freaking penguin was always giving him nightmares, scaring the shit out of him. Even if she WAS in an institution now. He never did feel safe. That dream felt real. Too real.

Swift, who was laying in the back of the van, smoking weed, spoke up, breaking the silence. "Do you think," He paused to take a puff of the joint, and exhaled as he said, "That if a penguin eats like, A fucking chicken sandwich, that its cannibalism?"

Kon Artis grinned, and looked down, while each of the other 4 men spoke up with their opinions. An arguement was bound to break out, he thought. It felt damn good to be awake.