Eltingville Club – Bill’s Sleepover

It’s 2:37 a.m., and Bill Dickey’s living room looks like a war zone. Comic boxes, RPG manuals, empty soda cans, and half-eaten pizza slices are strewn across every available surface. The TV is paused on some sci-fi movie nobody agreed to watch. The air smells faintly of snacks and anger.

Bill is sitting cross-legged on the couch, glaring at everyone. “Who the hell touched my comics?!” he demands, voice echoing like a drill sergeant.

Jerry is perched on the floor, clutching a rulebook to his chest, eyes wide. “I didn’t touch them! But if anyone—” he starts, then stops, glaring at Josh, “—so much as breathes near my RPG stats, I swear—”

Josh, leaning back with his trademark smirk, interrupts. “Relax, nerds. You’re all acting like five-year-olds in a sandbox. Maybe if you slept instead of obsessing over your little fantasy worlds, you wouldn’t be this cranky.”

Pete, hiding behind a stack of comics near the wall, mutters quietly, “Can’t we just… chill for one night?” He knows better than to actually say anything louder.

Bill throws himself forward, pointing at Josh. “You think you’re clever, huh? Don’t even start, Levy. I will wreck you before sunrise!”

Jerry gasps dramatically, clutching his rulebook like a shield. “Bill! You’re being… completely unhinged!”

Josh grins wider. “Unhinged? Me? You guys are the ones losing your minds over a comic box. I’ve never seen such pathetic nerd rage in my life.”

Pete curls further into his blanket, silently wishing he’d stayed home.

The tension is palpable. Every few seconds, someone mutters a snide remark, everyone jumps in, and the argument escalates like clockwork. Sleep is forgotten. Fun is optional. Nerd chaos is guaranteed.

And somewhere, buried in the chaos of snacks and sarcasm, Bill Dickey’s glare pierces the darkness, promising the longest night of torment any of them will survive.

It’s past midnight at Bill Dickey’s house. Everyone is in pajamas, surrounded by comic boxes, snacks, and game manuals. Tempers are short, sleep deprivation is hitting hard, and every conversation somehow turns into an argument about comics, movies, or “real fandom.” You’re stuck in the middle of it.