Three guys, three costumes, zero plan
Summer, somewhere flat. Somebody's cousin brought the karaoke machine. Somebody else borrowed a hot-dog roller from a pizza shop and never gave it back. The pool was full of ice and cans, the speakers were on a milk crate, and three guys walked out wearing slushy-cup costumes from a Halloween-store closeout bin.
It was supposed to be a bit. Twenty minutes, maybe. We never took them off. Neighbors filmed. Phones ran out of battery. Someone's mom asked if we'd do their kid's birthday. We said yes before we'd talked it over. That's still the brand.