NOTE: This short story takes place in the same continuity as my ongoing story Frankie Rules. You don't need to have read Frankie Rules to understand it (although I'd very much appreciate it if you read it anyway). All you need to know is that it all takes place eight year after the show, and that Frankie is now in charge of Foster's.
Don't forget to review! I'm curious to see if you manage to guess what this story is about.
Pant pant pant pant
Frankie took a look at her watch. It was nine already. Well, that was all she had time for this morning. She got off the exercise bike and took a look in the mirror. Of course, she still looked awful. But a quick shower might help a little…
She walked out of Foster's gym, but her movement towards the wardrobe was halted by the long, thin legs of a tall imaginary friend she knew very well…
"Uh, Frankie?"
She looked up.
"What is it, Wilt?"
"You remember these papers you promised to sign?"
"Oh yeah…" She sighed. "I'll take care of it right after I've hit the showers. Could you meet me at my office at nine thirty?
Wilt hawked. "I'd prefer that you took care of it right now."
You knew that Wilt had to be in a bad mood when he talked like that, and without even once saying "sorry", "excuse me" or "please". As her estate manager, he was not in a position to give her orders. But his choice of words and the tone of his voice, made Frankie decide it was best not to refuse this rather firm request.
She grabbed the papers. "Fine, let's go to my office."
Her office was at the other end of floor, which meant she had to pass a lot of people on the way. Which also meant that she had to endure their disapproving stares. Or worse. Unfortunately, they met Eduardo on the way, and once again, he ran away in terror the moment he saw Frankie. Turning around the corner, she could hear Eurotrish doing her best to try and calm the big guy:
"There, there, caro, the bad lady ees gone now"
Frankie sighed. She had become Eduardo's bogeyman and the object of everyone's contempt. It had been going on like this for three days now. When were they going to forgive and forget? Mr. Herriman had been pretty gracious about the whole affair, but she could only imagine that, deep down, he must have been enjoying this throughoutly. The big rabbit was never very well liked when he was President, but he had never screwed up like this.
Entering the office, Frankie sat down by her desk and sank slowly (and perhaps a bit too demonstratively) down in the chair. "All right, let's get this over with.", she muttered
Silently, Wilt handed her a bunch of papers. She counted them slowly. "Five" she muttered. "Why do you need so many copies?"
Looking at the ceiling, he replied casually: "One for you, one for me, one for Mac, one for Goo, one for Bloo…"
"BLOO? Why does he get a copy?"
Wilt waited a few seconds, then folded his arms – or at least tried to – before he replied: "You need to be reminded of this. And I know that Bloo, for one, won't let you forget this so soon."
Wilt spoke slowly, as if he wanted be sure that he didn't accidentally slip in words like "excuse me" or "I'm sorry" out of habit. Clearly, he was not in a negotiable mood.
Frankie quickly put her signature on five pieces of paper, then pushed them slowly across the desk, into Wilt's waiting hand.
"There you go. Happy?
"Sure, Frankie. Except for just one more thing…" he handed her his MP3 player. It was set on "microphone". Frankie knew what this was about…
"Please, Wilt, can't this wait until after lunch, at least?"
"Frankie, you promised!"
Still not as much as a "sorry" from Wilt's mouth, although his tone of voice was mellowing slightly. Nevertheless, without another word in protest, Frankie picked up one of the copies, pushed the button and began reading out loud from the document she just signed:
"I, Frances Foster, henceforth known as Frankie hereby resolve that cookies made after my dear, departed grandmother's recipe are to be baked only once a month, and only one batch every time. Furthermore, I am not entitled to more than five of these cookies every month. Should we ever decide to sell the cookies to the public in order to raise money, we may of course bake more than one batch to meet the demand. However, in such a case I am still not entitled to more than five cookies. I am not allowed to buy them unless, for some reason, that is the only way to get my monthly quota of five cookies. Nor am I allowed to try and obtain more than my monthly quota of cookies by means of theft, threats, furious rage, bribery, flattering, grovelling or violently pulling them out of other people's hands.
"If I should violate any of these rules, my punishment will be…" - she swallowed - "…that I am to be denied my monthly quota of cookies. If I threaten to fire someone or expell them from Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends in order to get more than my monthly quota, I will have to pay a 500 fine to the offended part and offer him, her or it my quota. If I, in my craving for cookies, should happen to yell at someone who is considered particularly sensitive, my punishment will be the same.
Furthermore, all large quantities of flour, sugar, cocoa, chocolate chips, eggs, baking soda and milk purchased by the house must be approved by house's caretaker, Wilt Michaels. As owner and de facto administrative leader of Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, I approve of these rules. The rules are in effect as of the date of this document, and will not be made retroactive."
"And thank goodness for that, at least", she added with another heavy sigh as she turned the recording function off. "Now, if you excuse me –"
She was interrupted by Mac suddenly entering the office.
"Wilt, when you're writing the grocery list, remember to add milk."
For a moment, Frankie and Wilt stared at him, then at each other. Or more correctly, Wilt stared, slightly suspiciously, at Frankie.
"- Because Bloo just spilled out a whole one gallon bottle", Mac added, not quite certain of what was going on.
"Right! So, if I'm cleared of all suspicions -" Frankie growled as she got up form her chair " - I'd like to take that shower now."