FPM: ...so yeah, thanks for wanting to read this.
Bloo: Now I'm infamous!
FPM: o.O...that means you're famous for a bad reason...
Bloo: Oh. (-shrug-) ON WITH THE SHOW!!
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"...Mahahaha! And I beat you at Go-Fish!!" Bloo exclaimed, throwing down his cards on the wooden table, beaming. Eduardo sighed as he put down his hand; Bloo gathered the hairy imaginary friend's cards and looked them over. "...Wait, you mean you still have a hand so technically I didn't win?"
"...Eh, si, Azul."
Bloo screamed. "AIH! How could you do that?! ...Rip off artist!!!!" With that said, Bloo flung his cards into the air and began kicking poor Eduardo with his foot. Eduardo screamed as he ran around the table in an attempt to get away from Bloo.
Wilt walked in and watched the petrified Eduardo screaming and dodging Bloo around the room. "...What's wrong, guys? Can I help you find something?" Wilt bent down and lifted the couch a bit and observed a spider innocently crawling below it. Wilt yelped and fell backwards on top of Eduardo. Frankie came running into the room, laughing and smiling.
"Guess what, guys?!?! My Friend –who I haven't seen in like forever-- is COMING!! ...Wait...what are you guys doing?" She helped Wilt off of Eduardo and Bloo came over, whistling.
"....I didn't do nothin', Frankie. Just , uh, ...sweeping , see?" He began 'sweeping' the floor with his foot and walked off as Mac stepped in the room through two doors.
"...You're friend's coming? Why?"
"Huh?- Oh! She wanted to say hi, ya know...it's been a while. ..."
Wilt nodded. "...Basically just to keep in touch, right?"
"Yeah! Exactly! ...Man-oh-man I gotta clean this place up-- Bloo! Get over here with a broom you sweeping-freak!"
Bloo came in, a monocle in his right eye, holding his head high. "...I am not Bloo. I am Blooregard Q. Kazoo—the first, the only, the magnificest, the last!"
"Thank heavens for last..." Frankie muttered. She laughed uneasily when Mac frowned at her.
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Cherie walked knocked on the door, sighing. Frankie had told her to come at four. She'd been waiting there for what seemed eternity when a small boy opened the door with his other friend under a blue blanket. She smiled. "What's your name?"
Mac's eyebrow rose. "Uh...who are you?"
"Oh! She must be Frankie's friend, Mac! Ya know, only everybody who's anybody knows that..." The person under a blue blanket (Bloo) said un-empathetically. Coco walked behind them, thinking, Then why does he know? Smirking, Coco bounced over to the door, screaming, "Co-Co! Coc cocococo! Coco-co-cococo!" (hey! How are you this afternoon?")
Cherie stepped back and wondered to herself why she had come in the first place. 'I mean, Frankie hasn't written or anything...Maybe she's helping the mentally-challenged and was too embarrassed to ask for help until now...huh. Alrighty-then...' She cleared her throat and managed a smile. "...I'm Cherie, and I'm waiting for Frankie...Is she here?"
Mac nodded. "Yeah, she's here. Hey, I'm Mac,"-he stuck out his hand-"Nice to meet you."
Frankie shook it and nodded. "Nice to meet you too."
Bloo coughed. "Whada-'bout me? Isn't this world interested in me?" Bloo crossed his arms and pouted and Cherie laughed.
"Oh, yeah, nice to meet you too...."
She stepped inside to stand by a tall, red person who was missing an arm and had a rather 'wonky' eye. "...?"
"Hi! ...I'm Wilt."
"...I'm Cherie..."
"What a pretty name..."
"Thanks..." She walked off, wondering why Frankie was working with retards...Frankie walked up.
"Hey, Cherie!"
"Hey, Frankie!" They hugged and smiled.
"Nice to see you again!"
"You too!...But, Frankie..."
"What?"
"...What is it you do her exactly?" She pointed at the group of imaginary friends standing behind them and had a questioning look. Frankie shrugged.
"...You didn't know? This is Foster's-"
"HOME FOR IMAGINARY FRIENDS!!" Bloo highperly screamed, interrupting Frankie. Wilt sighed.
"...All right guys. I have to help Duchess clean today. See you later." He waved and walked off. Cherie nodded.
"Uh...Okay, home for imaginary friends...What does that mean?"
"This is a place where people can...well, do...abandon their imaginary friends...Yeah. My mom didn't want me to have an imaginary friend anymore and so Bloo is here. But I visit him. ...I like it here." Mac nodded and stared into space.
Cherie asked, "...So can anyone adopt?"
Frankie nodded. "Yeah....are you going to?" Frankie nudged Cherie and winked.
"I dunno...It gets kinda lonely in my apartment..." Shrugging, she added, "But I can't really afford anything—or anyone—right now..."
Nodding, Frankie smiled. "Well, how's about you work here?"
Bloo smiled. "YEAH! ANOTHER FRANKIE! ...except it will be a Cherie...which is not a Frankie because Frankie is herself—WAIT! Unless she was cloned and--HEY! I WANT TO BE CLONED TOO, FRANKIE! WHERE'S THAT CLONING MACHINE! TELL ME NOW!!" Bloo clung to her leg.
Frankie sighed. "It's a wonder I haven't gone crazy yet...Anyways, wanna apply? I'm not exactly doing a superb-o-rific job here myself—It's just that my grandma is the one who runs this place so I have the privilege of working here-"
"-And not always to a level of perfection, might I ad." Mr. Harriman hopped in. He sighed. "Has anyone seen my monocle? I can't seem to find it..."
Bloo's eyes enlarged and he took off the single-eyepiece that was in his eye. "...Oh, uh...this thing?" He held it up for Mr. Harriman to see. Nodding, the rabbit took the monocle from Bloo's hand, hopping off. "...That's Mr. Harriman. He's Mrs. Foster's imaginary friend..."
"Mrs. Foster. Hmm...Sounds nice...So what do I have to do to apply?"
"Come with me," Frankie grabbed her arm and pulled her away. Mac and the other imaginary friends shrugged and continued along playing Go-Fish.
Frankie led Cherie to a big room with Mrs. Foster sitting at a desk in a rather large, mahogany chair. She little old lady smiled. "I am Madame Foster. And you are?"
"Cherie. Cherie Kiefer."
"Ah, what a pretty name...yes, Cherie. All right, you're in."
"WHAT?!" Mr. Harriman hopped in through two doors around the corner. "You can't just possibly hire someone you don't know just because they are friends with you granddaughter..."
Madame Foster smiled sweetly. "Yes, of course. But Frankie would never hang out with any hooligans of any sort..."
Frankie smiled as she remembered her old boy-friend, Hank, who dressed in black leather and chains... Madame Foster continued.
"...And furthermore, she seems like such a sweet girl. ...How old are you Cherie?"
"I'll be nine-teen this June..."
Mr. Harriman sighed. "See? She's not even as old as dear Frankie and will probably follow in her footsteps of-"
"BUT YA JUST GOTTA HIRE CHERIE!!" Bloo ran in the room, hugging Cherie's black-panted leg. "...See her soft, grey eyes with flecks of blue in them? PURE BEAUTY! And her green shirt says ...well, it says nothing...but she has a black jacket to cover up her arms because she's MODEST! MODESTY IS GOOD! And black pants...Ah, well, she doesn't look Gothic...AND NOTHING LIKE TERRENCE!! SEE?!?! THEN HIRE CHE-"
"I think you've made your point, Bloo..." Frankie interrupted, prying the blue midget off her friend's leg. Madame Foster nodded.
"Very observant of you, Bloo. Very well, then. Cherie Kiefer—welcome to Foster's."
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FPM: ...yes, uhm, okay...there's that first chapter. Sorry if anyone was out of character, but I-
Mr. Harriman: there are no excuses in life, FPM. Make no mistake about that.
FPM: uh-huh...anyways, I do not own 'Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends' or its characters, but I own my story, ideas, and Cherie.
Bloo: Frankie's not giving me the cloning machine.
FPM: I also don't own a cloning machine.
Bloo: (-shrug-) Ah. Well, I guess no mini-me's...
FPM: ...that's probably for the best of humanity...
Bloo: WHAT?!?!?!
FPM: oh, nothing...