The Great Escape (From Adulthood)

Chapter 1: The Funeral That Wasn't

The coffin weighed less than Rachel expected.

"Are you sure there's no body in here?" she whispered, straining under its weight as she and Daniel carried it toward the hearse.

"Positive," Daniel grunted. "Just the 150 pounds of sandbags we stole from the construction site. And the Bluetooth speaker."

Rachel bit her lip to keep from laughing. This was, objectively, the stupidest plan they'd ever concocted—which was saying something, considering last year's "Let's Start a Cult (For the Tax Benefits)" experiment.

The raindrops hitting the polished mahogany coffin sounded like tiny applause as they loaded their own funeral prop into the vehicle.

Chapter 2: Why Fake Your Death? (A Brief Flashback)

Six weeks earlier, over burnt microwave pizza:

"We're drowning," Rachel had announced, waving a collection notice for their $87,000 student loans.

Daniel scrolled through their shared bank account. "We have $13. And half a bag of Cheetos."

Rachel's eyes lit up. "What if... we didn't?"

"Didn't what?"

"Have student loans. Or rent. Or jobs." She leaned forward. "What if we just... stopped?"

Daniel blinked. "Like... suicide?"

"No, you walnut. Like disappearing. New identities. Beach somewhere. Hammocks. Endless margaritas."

Twenty-four hours, three bottles of cheap wine, and one very illegal deep web browsing session later—Operation Clean Slate was born.

Chapter 3: The Paper Trail to Nowhere

Their preparation was meticulous:

The "Accident": Daniel's old rowboat "conveniently" capsized during a storm (conveniently caught on a "hiker's" GoPro they'd planted).

The Evidence: Rachel's scarf found snagged on rocks (+ DNA from hair salon trash).

The Digital Ghosting:

Scheduled sad Facebook posts ("If you're reading this, we didn't make it...")

Canceled all utilities using pre-written emails

Programmed their phones to send "final texts" to family

The hardest part? Not telling Daniel's little sister, who would absolutely have ratted them out for a Klondike bar.

Chapter 4: Bugs, Sweat, and Fears

The hearse broke down in New Mexico.

"Of course it did," Rachel groaned as steam poured from the hood. "We bought a funeral car from Craigslist. What did we expect?"

Daniel kicked the tire. "I expected at least three states before divine retribution!"

They ended up hitchhiking with a trucker named Earl who smelled like beef jerky and existential dread.

"You kids running from something?" Earl asked, eyeing their black funeral attire.

Rachel forced a sob. "Our... our goldfish died."

Earl bought them Denny's.

Chapter 5: The First Crack

Two months in, Rachel woke up screaming from a nightmare.

"They buried us," she gasped. "My mom—she put flowers on a fake grave—"

Daniel held her as she cried. For the first time, they faced the truth: this wasn't a wacky adventure. Real people were grieving.

That night, they logged into a secret email account.

One new message:

From: Emily (Daniel's Sister)

Subject: YOU BASTARDS

I KNOW you're alive. Mom's a wreck. Dad hired a PI. CALL ME or I swear I'll mail your "suicide note" to the FBI.

Attached was a photo: their "drowned" bodies... with Rachel's visible wrist tattoo in the "corpse" photo. The same tattoo she'd just posted on her new Instagram.

Oops.

Chapter 6: The Un-Death

They came clean in spectacular fashion:

Sent a singing telegram to Daniel's parents ("Dun dun dun... WE'RE NOT DEAD!")

Had a local news crew "catch" them dancing on their own graves

Rachel livestreamed their apology while Daniel ugly-cried in the background

The fallout? Surprisingly manageable:

Legal: 90 days community service (turns out faking death isn't technically illegal if you don't commit fraud)

Family: Six months of silent treatment (worth it)

Financial: Declared bankruptcy (clean slate achieved!)

Epilogue: Living (For Real This Time)

Now they run a beach bar in Belize.

Sometimes tourists recognize them from the viral news clips.

"Weren't you those guys who—"

"Yep!" they cheer, sliding over a free margarita.

The secret? They did escape adulthood. Just not the way they'd planned.

And when the moon hits the water just right, they still toast to their greatest performance:

"To being terrible at being dead."