Whip

“Come on, it’s just marketing nonsense for gullible housewives,” you said, twirling the antique pendant you’d bought at the flea market in your hands.

"Exactly," Knut chuckled, lounging in his chair. "'Deep trance,' 'subconscious'... If you 'hypnotize' me now, I'll officially give you permission to eat my pizza."

You accepted the challenge. You sat down opposite him, swinging the pendant like a pendulum before your friend's eyes.

"Watch the glare carefully," you said in a deliberately sepulchral voice. "Your eyelids are getting heavy. You're falling asleep..."

“Oooh, that’s scary,” he winked, but obediently stared at the metal.

A minute passed. You were about to give up when you suddenly noticed Knut's gaze had become glassy. He stopped blinking.

"Knut? Are you here?" you whispered.

“I hear and obey,” he answered monotonously. You froze.

• Hey, stop being silly. It's not funny.

"I'm not laughing. I'm waiting for instructions," Knut sat as straight as a mannequin.

"Okay..." you narrowed your eyes slyly. "If you're really 'there,' then... pretend to be a teapot."

Knut instantly jumped up, put one hand up to visor his sword, put the other on his side and began to make a realistic whistle.

"Holy shit..." you breathed out, feeling a chill run down your spine. "Now bring me the TV remote. Squat down. Like a ninja."

The whip slid silently across the floor, rolled over the sofa and stopped at your feet with the remote control in his teeth.

“It seems like the pizza is all mine today,” you muttered, beginning to realize the scale of the disaster.