Bitch Please.


Previously:

In Camp Kidney and Acorn Flats, excitement seems to be building up over two new campers. Everyone's equally excited about the upcoming tri-athelon tournament, the traditional and yearly competition between beans and squirrels. But like every year, the Beans usually lose. There is less enthusiasm with the Beans over the tournament than with the squirrels, who take great joy in humiliating the Beans. But everyone has a feeling that this year might turn out to be different. In the midst of all this, Camp Kidney has a new visitor in it's ranks. And his name is Maion Paschar. Will this new camper's presence change the outcome of the upcoming tournament?

Loading

Loading

\ /

Loading File: Magic Medicine

File Loaded


Wilt was standing with Ed and Coco, outside of... Mr. Herriman's office. Not like it was first time he did so; whenever a friend was told to wait outside, they had a doom cloud over their heads. Any friend caught in the act of breaking a rule, was sent to Mr. Herriman's office, and severely punished- so severe that a friend was forced to go without supper. Wilt was deathly afraid of it; no one wanted to be sent up to their room without supper. So he did as he was imagined by his kid; Wilt made it a habit to remember a broken rule led to punishment, and never so "No" against any of the rules. So many of Mr. H's rules were just inane, it spun around a lot of the friends' heads- if they had any. No one could much of anything around the house without breaking a rule. Wilt wondered just how many rules were probably going to be broken for doing... this.

"Bloo, are you sure this is safe?"

The answer from inside was muffed.

"Bloo?" Wilt called again.

Ed was still shivering. "Es muy malo! This is very bad! We shouldn't even be in here!"

No answer. Except the noise of a few items being tossed around, and soft thuds. Then Bloo's muffled, "Trying to find evidence!!"

Again, Wilt protested. "But, Bloo, there isn't any evidence of Mr. Herriman being an alien!"

The ruffling noises stopped abruptly, followed by Bloo sticking his head out the door and glaring at Wilt. "I"LL be the judge of that! Now you guys just stay here and keep guard!" Then he pulled his head back inside and more stuff started crashing down. Needless to say that Wilt, Ed, and Coco's fears tripled.

Bloo on the other hand was dead set. Enough that he disregarded any sense of discretion when pulling out all of Mr. H's drawers, full to the brim with papers. Bloo saw that a lot of these were adoption forms, release forms, and (where Bloo gagged) warrants to have "delinquent" friends expelled. A lot of these had Bloo's name on it, in full. "Papers, papers, where are those freaking PAPERS!?! Aliens make contact with Government, Government secretly sanctions them, then they HIDE them, and in exchange they get super awesome ALIEN TECHNOLOGY!" Or at least that was what he read out of the comic books- and they've never lied to him, not ever.

As Bloo furiously tore through more papers trying to reach the bottom, the party heard the doorbell ring, followed by dignified hops. Wilt yelled, "Herriman's coming!"

"Cocococococococo!"

All three dashed inside like their lives depended on it. Bloo didn't so much as bat a lid because he was too focused on finding that yellow slip describing the horrible Alien Autopsy Foster's so-called head had. Wilt's typical habit kicked in like clockwork; Ed helped him get up most of the papers off the floor. "Bloo I told you this wasn't a good idea!" cried Wilt.

In an uncharacteristic shine of genius, Bloo yelled, "Quick, behind the door!" But it quickly dawned on all four that the plan was ill-conceived. They ended up out of the wall-to-wall covering of rules like you couldn't imagine into a pearly white, orderly space... with toliet and makeshift shower and completing curtain. Ed let out a terrible whimper. "Thes es el cuarto de bano de Senor Herriman!!!"

"I'm sorry, Bloo, but he's right! No friend is ever, ever allowed in here. We should just leave and confess to sneaking around and-!" Sometimes Bloo wasn't sure he even knew Wilt. "Are you crazy?!" the blob hissed back. "Not only will he punish us, he'll pull out his two alien pistols and vaporize us into VAPOR. And I'm NOT losing this one and ONLY opportunity to get into Area 51's secret base at the center of the Medubla Triangle!"

Ed spun a finger towards Coco, a sign to indicate that as usual, Bloo's disposition against logic was standing pretty well. "Cococococococo!?" (Don't you mean "Bermuda Triangle, Medulla Oblongata, and Mojave Desert"?)

"That's what I said!" Bloo hissed back. "Now be quiet!" he said again, while he peered through the keyhole on Wilt's shoulders. Ed remained propped against the wall, too nervous to even let out a hoarse Spanish cry of trepidation. He had every right to.

Behind the door was silence.

They were still holding their breaths, and held on to them tightly as they heard their least favorite sound in the whole world: dignified hops following behind the open doors. Sure enough, Mr. Herriman had arrived. Ed couldn't stop his teeth chattering. A punishment beyond anything he could have imagined - and for being caught in Senor Herriman's private quarters! They were in for a nightmare. A stern, cruel, boring nightmare! Ed thought he was going to faint.

Bloo seemed unfazed; he continued staring intently at the keyhole, but he saw nothing; instead, he put the side of his head to the keyhole, and waited. "Shhh..." he said to the other three. "I hear... voices," he paused. Two voices. If the idea of punishment, no supper and his beloved paddleball wrought from his blobby hands for another agonizing month didn't daunt Bloo's confidence, it did now.

Bloo wondered; Did Frankie come back from the store already? Bad news for him, and especially him and not the others, if yes. Bad enough Stuffy-rules-and-Nonsense was sitting at his desk, possibly looking for the alien ray gun- but Frankie was, from Bloo's perspective, an extension of Herriman's fun-taking sweep. She would jump at the chance of sending Bloo out of the house: not good!

And she was just as boring and "un-fun" as Herriman was! Maybe... she was an alien as WELL!! It didn't sound impossible; Bloo couldn't rule out that possibility...

While he was thinking this, he was surprised to hear, for certain, Mr. Herriman's voice speaking to another... but the second voice didn't sound like Frankie's at all. Or wasn't it?

(oooh cool... love house... s..... funny... wuld lik summm fooooodh.... nice chapt... ooh papurrss neeeet)

What the heck!? Bloo thought, or screamed, in his head. Is that supposed to be Frankie? She sounds like she got sick and then swallowed a giant tablet of stupid! At this he came close to laughing, but he stifled it down.

"... Hey, Bloo? Hear anything?" a stable Wilt whispered quietly. He was beginning to wane under Bloo's weight, which wasn't very heavy at all. He had no idea what was going on; he even thought he heard Bloo laughing. Other than that, he was doing fine. And he was surprised they could keep quiet for this long.

"Quiet!" Bloo whispered harshly back. Wondering if he had committed any fault of some sort, Wilt let out a dejected "Sorry" and kept staring back at the pristine floor. Ed and Coco felt ancillary to the going ons, and kept quiet.

Bloo's lack of patience and short attention span kicked into high gear. One eye turned to the black opening- he wouldn't see alot due to the key's narrow opening, but compared to a giant staring down an anthole, this was better than nothing. Through the opening, he saw Mr. Herriman's hands fly through the drawer he previously went out of his way "investigating", looking for something. Part of his face was bent over, exposing a monocle and whiskers. Compared with earlier, Bloo's claims about his "hidden identity" were rebuffed; he looked absolutely normal. (As about as normal as imaginaries like Mr. Herriman can get.)


"Well then," went the amicable Head of Foster's, pulling out his adoption sheet form- amazingly poised on top of pillar of paper, by the heavens, and right when he needed it -and dipped a pen in a thumb cap of ink. "it is truly sad when a child leaves his or her imaginary friend on the doorstep of Foster's without even introducing themselves- but alas I'm certain you will be a welcome addition to Foster's ranks, if but only for a moment."

It was business as usual, and, though he'd never admit it out loud, his pride swelled. Business he truly loved, and paperwork his soulmate; he was in a positive mood. Since giving Frankie her list of chores, he hadn't heard a word complaint out of her, and Master Blooregard hadn't so much as made any attempt at making shenanigans. It was seldom a peace Foster's ever had in a while. Although, far be it for Mr. Herriman to quell that meddlesome voice saying that he buying into a delusion, and it could've been shattered any minute. But he decided that unlike what he was doing right now, it was unimportant.

This routine, keeping records of all the comings and goings of all imaginaries, was trite, humdrum, and organized; the best sorts of things he enjoyed. The House, himself, sanitation staff (a certain Francis Foster who should've been back by now, whom he reminded himself to instruct to clean up the 3rd floor bathrooms once more) and of course, the delightful myriad of rule-abiding friends have seen more than its' fair share of imaginary friends, sized and of all kinds of shapes. Today's was no different. She, an imaginary, had a peculiar appearance- a giant metal white head with a yellow nose dipping down, like what she did with her head.

"So then... "

( "Hello? This is Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends, how may I be of assistance? Oh, and forgive me, but our resident caretaker left several minutes ago to retrieve her things, that lazy girl. I assure you, good help is very rare around here on such days. Now, as I was saying, are you a friend who is looking for a temporary home till you can be adopted?" She had a metallic head angled down, and her eyes were narrow. The ears seemed like those of a fox, but... they also looked like a set of plastic ears- the kind that little children waste valuable time with to dress like an animal. The rest of her form was strikingly human; She wore outlandish clothing you'd see in eastern countries, a bushy wolf tail, and her hands were covered in all fur. If it were a normal human who answered the door and not him, they might as well have thought it was some deranged trick-r-treater. No. 5 decades as President of Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends, and Mr. Herriman knew an imaginary friend when he saw one. The trouble was that she looked like something straight out of those infernal new kids' shows. The only thing weird about any of this was that this fine figment was standing at the door without its' creator. It was a shame. Mr. Herriman didn't take this job without arming himself with a little knowledge; he knew that at some point, children leave behind their friends. No exceptions. )

( "... LOBOOOOO!!!" )

( "... I beg your pardon?" )

( "namu namu... mooooooooooooooofal... mu. LOBOOO!!" squarked the strange imaginary. )

( Saying he was stunned was an understatement; but he collected himself and calmly tried thinking it over. Most friends would make their imaginary unable to speak english. A child's range of mental activity acted as the variable in their creation; not every child, not like his own, could develop enough to make that possible. It was a tiring fact, but Mr. Herriman was used to it. )

( "I... uh, don't understand what it is you're saying." )

( This imaginary seemed absent-minded. Her manner of speaking was strange, and she kept twitching her head every couple of seconds; she even turned her entire body around like somebody jumped at her from behind. Mr. Herriman thought that was rude- and he had no time for this! He had many important papers to file and organize, not deal with an imaginary that clearly had a speech impediment. He had to speed this along, quickly. "Would you or would you not like to come inside?" )

( The Japanese-or-such-nonsense imaginary twirled back and cocked curious, almost suggestive eyes at the imaginary rabbit. "Ohreallysweet cool troo," she said incredibly fast. "Mega... bUNNNIIIIIEEEE!!!... cotsiewootsie" )

( Okay, now he really couldn't follow any of that. Whomever her creator was, he or she must clearly have dislexia or such a horrible throat condition if this particular imaginary friend came out speaking this way. He couldn't understand her at all. But protocol dominated Mr. Herriman like a habit, so when he spoke, he remembered the proper tone to address a lady. This imaginary was a lady, he reminded himself. A lady was treated with ABSOLUTE respect. "Miss? Excuse me, Miss? Though it'd be too much trouble, I can't immediately accept you into this house unless I have proper form of identification. Er... What is your name?" )

( The imaginary kept staring at him; Mr. Herriman wondered if she had been listening at all. If not, how infuriat- no. He was restrained in every manner, so even though most of his time was wasted, he had to be patient. The imaginary kept staring at him so strangely, though, that some nameless feeling made him unable to remain fully composed. )

( "My NAAAAAAAAAAMMMMmmmmmm oooooooo-!" )

( "P-Please, I simply insist that you just give me your name.... !" )

( "Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel naaaamu iiieeeeeeeesss" An abrupt pause came, making Mr. Herriman grate his teeth. "PPFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTT -----" )

"... Miss, er, Falconlobo."

"YAAAAY-ness," said the wolf/metal/humanoid imaginary friend in ghastly cheerfulness. "Cool wai troo ad totatlly wecked addaddddndndndndnnnnnn-YAAAH! G-gooooo-TII FooOD!"

She's absolutely random and speaks nonsensical gibberish, my heavens, Mr. Herriman was thinking. And her seating and conduct's like watching a 3-year-old. She is the epitome of improper behavior, and she doesn't act like any female-gendered imaginary friend we've seen yet.

If you could call her having her back bent over and foward, her arms propped up together like a pair of stilts, legs as malleable as a bending straw- her paws directed forward with her feet, and her eyes were stoic slits, as "Improper". But Mr. Herriman wasn't all that worried about questioning her. But... he had never seen any imaginary friend look so incredibly focused. She was sitting like a... like a gargoyle. Manners first, and then he would explain all the rules and regulations later, once she was settled.

"Ah yes, it's quite a shame when an imaginary is abandoned and left to fend for itself, but rest assured, you'll be most likely adopted by another kid within a few days. And I must say, Miss Falconlobo, you're quite a sight that I'm sure you'll most definitely draw the attention of many potential adopters," Mr. Herriman said, not holding back any blows. He remembered how often he had imaginaries in his office who immediately and rudely responded with a denial, making settling in new additions a strained process. Falconlobo, however, didn't say anything. Things seemed to be going pretty smoothly. "But for now," he said, "I believe it's imperative that we go over the rules and regulations of living in this house, and every punishment that accompanies each violation."

"Ah shoo prease toobee bgt san uou," the bizzare figment responded, bopping her head up and down. Mr. Herriman remained confused, trying his best to brush off the genuine tomfoolery he was hearing. After a moment, Mr. Herriman rose from his chair and hopped over to the bookshelf. He thought he heard Falconlobo humming, or maybe that was just his imagination.

It took him a few minutes, but he found the book he was looking for; A hefty volume titled, "Rules, Rules, and regulations to Follow In Order to have a Successful living". Mr. Herriman wrote it himself, and it was ultimately the most reliable source there ever was. Out of protocol, the imaginary rabbit bristled a little with excitement. He couldn't wait to explain these rules-

That tinge of excitement froze quietly inside, once he sensed something... off. As he turned around, he was surprised to see that the not-so-behemoth anthromorph was standing right behind him. Rude, he was going to say. Was, because he asked her to stay in that chair exactly. What exactly was she doing? Well, Mr. Herriman was going to find out. "I beg your pardon, but, what are you doing out of your seat?"

The newest house resident didn't say anything and tilted her head in a strange way. Her yellow eyes were squinting in and out. Something about that was irking the imaginary rabbit - and as much as he hated admitting it, there wasn't any rule against doing that. "Ah, um, yes, of course. Well, please have a seat so we can continue."

Not paying her any mind at all, Mr. Herriman proceeded back to his seat, unaware that Falconlobo was still standing in the same exact spot staring listlessly into nothing. "Now then," he continued, staring down at the book he selected, pulling back the cover of the heavy tome. (Which was a little dusty, he was going to have Ms. Francis dust it off later) "This house has a strict guideline of rules you will be following," he said sternly, "Up to every last little detail. Failure to uphold, dictate to memory, and equate to absolute importance any these clear indications of regulation around the household, and there will be consequences."

Preoccupied with his expounding on the rules, Mr. Herriman caught his breath when he was finished. When he turned he saw that Falconlobo was still standing in the same spot, making the imaginary feel completely ancillary. He wondered if he done something wrong; impossible! She was the one being rude by not having any manners and sitting down.

"Miss Falconlobo...?"

Regardless of what he said, she still kept staring off into nothing. He may not have been entirely sure about her behavior, but Mr. Herriman held a strong intolerance for ill-mannered imaginaries and their ridiculous quirks. His ire was reaching a point where enough was enough.

"Miss Falconlobo, will you please take your seat? I won't continue if you persist in standing there!"

Again, she showed no sign that she heard him.

Finally Mr. Herriman bellowed, "Miss Falconlobo! I will not ask you again, please take your seat at once-!"

"SWWEEAAAAAAAAAAA-it!!!!!!!!!!!!" garbled the wolf/metal/humanoid in an abrupt, disturbing cry. This badly startled the stuffy, no-nonsense imaginary friend. But what wrong did he do? All he told her to do was take a seat. "What is the meaning of this?" Mr. Herriman roared in anger as he recovered. He had to deal with a number of troublemakers, (Bloo included) but this was crossing the line. "Screaming is absolutely NOT tolerated in this HOUSE!!! You are NOT starting out with a very good record young lady!!"

He didn't predict what would happen next. She starting walking stiffly and vehemently over to him. Mr. Herriman was caught off guard, and pushed against his desk in panic; papers and such flew off the desk, and she started pushing off more. 'LIKEEE!!?" she snarled. Another enraged protest escaped Mr. Herriman's lips, but now she was too busy running over to a bookshelf and pushing down books, and creating a mess to hear. When that didn't seem to satisfy her, both her eyes turned to angry slits and ran straight back to Mr. Herriman, pinning him down on the floor. "OOF!!" he let out in an anguish- he was furious enough that she disobeyed him, but the rage boiling beneath his black jacket was over the destruction she was causing.

She towered over him- he hadn't noticed it before, but she was taller than she let on -and Mr. Herriman saw that same suggestive glint in his eyes he'd only seen once. She leaned in close: the imaginary rabbit's weary eyes were wide open, not at all appreciating what was happening. However his inner voice kept screaming to not to abandon sense of reason for a second. She leaned down even further, to his ear, and shouted in a hoarse, understandable voice:

"FIIIIIIIIIIINEH!!! I'LL TAKE ZE SHAAAAAAAAAR!!!"

Although his ears were ringing with spectacular pain, Mr. Herriman couldn't stop his ongoing remark of, " "Share?" That's pronounced Chair, learn your diction-! OOF!!" Again, Falconlobo pushed Mr. Herriman hard down on the floor. The head of Business affair's eyes were wide open in incredible panic.

Out of nowhere, she did something that made his mouth fall open. She pulled out of Mr. Herriman's range and snatched the left handle of the chair. Clutching on them tightly, Falconlobo lifted the tall seat with spectacular ease. At this point it was easy to say that Mr. Herriman was frightened out of his wits; but the only thing that came out of his mouth was, "W-what the blazes!? M-Miss Falconlobo I insist that you stop your inappropriate behavior! P-put down that chair, that's PUBLIC PROPERTY!!" His voice was now reaching high-pitched levels, only because his neck got swelteringly hot from enduring the havoc this house "Guest" was creating. Mr. Herriman closed his eyes and out of panic covered both with his pearly white gloves...

But nothing happened.

Assuming it was safe, Mr. Herriman made several mental notes, the first and foremost that the imaginary calling herself Falconlobo was clearly dangerous, ill-mannered, and completely unpredictable. As he opened his eyes, his ire didn't come close to matching his shock; he found himself alone in the office. And the chair was missing. Did that Miss leave? He had made the mistake of thinking her an ordinary imaginary, but she was just an unpredictable menace. As he got his breath back, he wondered if he should leave this with somebody else... but where was anybody else? Where was Miss Francis?

"Goodness... MISS FRANCIS!" he called for his employee. It took him a minute of unanswered silence before he called again. "Miss Francis!!!" There wasn't any answer, till he remembered that she had already left on the Foster's Bus. That was horrible timing: he hadn't authorized her to go out for anything today. He made sure to remember punishing her later for lollygagging when she was supposed to have been doing chores.

But what was he to do? He couldn't just pursue her himself!

But, his common sense argued, she'd clearly stolen a piece of private property out of his office, and he couldn't replace it. And she couldn't have gotten very far with it. Not doing anything about this insane young lady now would result in more accidents. He didn't have time to debate this; he'd have to go after her himself. And when he found her, he'd administer punishment.

With that settled, he didn't waste another second hopping madly out of his office. As he closed the door, a loud crash came from behind, one which he was out of earshot to hear. The whole party of 4 disoriented, confused imaginaries stared at the empty, trashed room in unthinkable disarray.

Bloo whistled, glancing over the entire scene. He was doubly thankful that whatever happened, (He and the other three were not completely aware of the true story) it was the perfect distraction for Mr. Herriman. But... his mind chilled. Whomever this "Falconlobo" was, she was some crazy kind of Bold- Bold enough to do what Bloo dreamed of doing a lot, and that was get away with trashing Herriman's office, with the very likeness of that stuffy rules and nonsense sitting in there as he did! There wasn't any friend dumb enough, or stupid enough (Bloo retracted that thought after a while) to think they could get away with that. Had he known this Falconlobo was that kind of imaginary friend... oh, man... Bloo felt color rushing to his cheeks!

But still... Bloo knew for a fact that he heard Mr. Herriman yelling. Yelling like something bad was in the works. What exactly did that imaginary friend do to make that happen? (Sure in the past, Bloo did a number of insane things that would've easily had him kicked out of the house, and to jail- which wasn't all that bad, actually) The tone of his shrieks were petrifying.

Bloo turned around and said in a bewildered voice, "What the heck just happened?"


(Scene Change; 3rd floor hallway)

There was no way Mr. Herriman could ignore the griminess of side to side walling of the hallway; there was actually a microscopic half-inch of it just resting there on the floor. To any one normal person, it would've seemed invisible. But nothing escaped Mr. Herriman's trained eye; what an UNGODLY, disgusting sight! But as urgent as that was, it paled with the real pressing matter at hand.

"I will find you and you will be punished for the racket you're causing! Miss Falconlobo?" the Head of Business ducked a head inside one of the rooms. There was nobody inside. In several other rooms he saw other imaginary friends reading, or watching television, or whatever- honestly they didn't have anything more stimulating to do? He may have had to make a new rule barring such slothful behavior out.

He tried calling "Falconlobo's" name multiple times, as he hopped around the same hallway multiple times. There was no response. Then after going up the next set of stairs at the end, there was a surprise: he had seen her ducking behind into the east wing. He had a strange feeling that Falconlobo was hiding and expecting him-

Hmm. What an odd thing to think. No. I must press on, I will apprehend that friend and retrieve the chair, and as soon as Ms. Frances returns, I'll punish her immediately for leaving without my giving her permission.

But while he was thinking this, another thought suddenly reared it's ugly head; it happened as he rounded a left corner in the east wing. There weren't any doors leading to any rooms in this hallway, other than an empty room. Beyond that was a dead end with a window overlooking the backyard.

"Miss Falconlobo...?" he yelled. Mr. Herriman looked around twice, thinking that it might not have been a good idea to try and pursue the batty imaginary friend. But he had to. He couldn't let such a rude sociopath run rampant around the house; nobody else was aware of how insane she was.

What if she had run into the Madam? What if she attempted to (Mr. Herriman gulped hard)... hurt her? If she did... Mr. Herriman's heartbeat increased as he couldn't bear to think of what would happen...

- boink boink -

He almost snapped, for someone tapped on his shoulder, snapping him out of his panicking horror. "For goodness sake, who is-?" that fear swallowed him as his head turned- she was standing right behind him, arms folded behind her back. She was... leering at him with a sharp, wiggling grin past the protruding nose-beak. Already Mr. Herriman felt like his legs (and his confidence) were jelly. He was wildly floundering how the devil she could've gotten past him- oh what difference did it really make now? Confound it! She's out of control, and does not listen to me! What am I going to do? At this point, logic and reason failed the Head of Foster's, who was now literally being backed into a corner.

She was leaning in, like a cat waiting to pounce on the mouse; his arms were shaking. She noticed, because she said in a dark, threatening tone, "SHAAAKY Bunnny. Saaaaad caause your e a KE-uuuuute BUUNN-EYE!!!"

Surely she didn't expect him to understand what she just said. But that didn't make the Head any less afraid for his life. Being pressed back towards the window, Mr. Herriman's whole body was vibrating like a phone receiver.

Instead of coming closer to him, but still holding that twisted grin on her face, Falconlobo held out one of her furry paws and formed it into a pointing finger. Having no idea what was to happen, Mr. Herriman tensed up like was about to be suddenly violated; but whatever horrific torture he imagined, nothing startled him more than the humanoid imaginary lightly and swiftly... touched his nose.

Silence hung in the air like a putrid stench. This was as good a point as any for Mr. Herriman to let out a blood-curtling scream as he jolted, terrified beyond reason. He looked like he would've hit the ceiling and his noodle arms flailing.

Falconlobo's expression was unreadable; in a first cleanly legible sentence she replied to a collapsed Herriman, "You don't LOoooOK well- I GIVE YOU MAGIC. Med. Ic. Ine. GAVE! GIVEN." Falconlobo's change in expression was a shocking feat; she looked so incredibly relaxed, compared to her hideous mix of stoneface and sheer intimidation. All Mr. Herriman could manage to bellow out in angry confusion, "W-What!? What on Earth - !?"

"I give YOU sWeet, Sweet, MEDICINE!" Falconlobo burst out yelling with disturbing glee. "BUH BYE!!"

"W-What are YOU -!?"

CRASH!!

The window now had a jagged ugly opening at the center. Glass bits broke off and fell on the floor. A distant thud was heard out in the open wild yonder; wind kept whistling through the window after she had gone. Once he stopped shrinking away in terror all Mr. Herriman could do was look up at the broken window in stunned silence. His mouth continued to hang open, as if it had simply fell off his face.

This is a very awful dream... that's what this was, he kept thinking rapidly, his mind already in cold sweat. But the more he kept staring at the naked sky past the broken glass, the more he knew that terrible experience wasn't a phony daymare.

While he continued staring at the empty space, the door on his right opened, and out stepped a very hazy lanky caretaker, who looked she had awoken from a massive nap.

"Miss Frances!?" shouted Mr. Herriman, automatically ushering himself back on his feet. Automatically he had forgotten anything about Falconlobo, or the broken window. He was flippantly confused. "What is the MEANING of this!?" he roared.

Frankie continued staring at her employer, looking oblivious to her employers' rage. "When did you get back here? And what were you doing that room?" He asked.

"Uh... I... "

He was baffled; what he heard was clearly not a legitimate answer (but still looking for a reason to shut the events of the past hour and the lunatic imaginary friend). "Oh, never mind! I need you to make several calls to the constable, because we have a maniac imaginary friend on the loose. She's crazy, and obviously homicidal."

Frankie didn't respond, making her employer wonder what happened. For a moment, the two shared an awkward stare before the Foster's President continued regardless.

"Since you've returned from whatever task you had, I expect your chores to be finished. The gasoline you wasted will come out of your pay, and you will not be allowed to rest for the next day. I expect to you put the house back into tip-top shape and for you to scrub the foyer floor immediately as punishment," Mr. Herriman said quickly and anally like nothing had happened, and then without waiting for her response, he turned and hopped away for the foyer.

Meanwhile, Frankie continued fazing the wall in front of her with a moronic stare. Mr. Herriman hadn't noticed, but Frankie looked like she'd woken up from a not-so-favourable dream.

"I... ah... how did I... get here...?" Frankie's eyes went wide with horror before she collapsed. "Ah! I... I WAS...!!"


(Scene Change )

What insanity...! Mr. Herriman kept thinking, even as he rounded another corner and reached the stairs. That's what it IS... pure insanity!

KNOCK KNOCK

"Oh, goodness gracious, what now!?" he roared as he hopped down the stairs to the source of the second knock. Surely that Falconlobo didn't come back... did she? As he reached for the handle He kept going with the thought he had earlier. This is insanity. Those "dreams" I had of me and... Miss Frances, the nightmares, and now that whole mess with that nonsensical, psychotic imaginary friend- Oh! Whatever am I thinking? I'll NOT let this boulderdash worry me out of my wits!

That's what he told himself, but he realized how badly he was lying to himself when he started fumbling with the door handle. Oh confound it!! Too busy with door handle and the incessant knocking turning into banging, he didn't notice when Bloo, Wilt, Ed, and Coco sneaked out of his office and ran for their lives upstairs. They were now out of earshot of any of the events happening in the foyer.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"Good Gracious, have some patience!! I'm about to open the door!" he'd already locked the door earlier after letting Falconlobo in earlier. The door handle wouldn't budge, but he slapped himself in rage for just remembering: he had the keys in his coat pocket. So he pulled them out and shoved the handle into the door. A second later, a click tolled, indicating the door was unlocked.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Morally messed up remembering the circumstances of his last meeting, Mr. Herriman was in no mood to deal with whatever trite ruffian was standing at the door. He wondered if maybe it was Falconlobo, but now he dreading that possibility; he chided himself for thinking it. It might not have been that lunatic, for he doubted she'd just come back after that small-scale catastrophe. They might not have been that important, and were probably nothing more than unsolicited meddlers and or those blasted kids throwing things at the house- nothing would've enraged Mr. Herriman even more. "If it's any ridiculous product you want to sell," he yelled, "Then I should let you in advance we aren't interested- What the blazes?"

Squeezing the handle and pulling both doors wide open, the Head of Business affairs had only a few seconds of good vision. His good vision failed after seeing an unknown and threatening-looking stranger before his world was flipped upside down- and quite literally, as his head met the foot of the stairs in with a painful shock.

CRASH!

About halfway his monocle was tossed up into the air, and cracked like broken china. Some of the pieces fell by his feet. It all happened in a flash. As for the actual eye that was covered by it, it was covered in purple... just a tinge. throbbing and bleeding. He mumbled incoherently for a few seconds about something involving reaching for the phone. He didn't have any anger in him now for being inconvenienced.

Once the white shock in his still working other eye started to slowly wear off, it wandered lazily and frightened in the direction of where he was just standing. Right in place of where he stood a moment ago, hanging in the air, was a black-gloved, leather fist.

"Selling things?" Mr. Herriman faintly heard someone say in a flat, embarrassed tone. "Nah... I don't actually sell jack shit."

Still a black silhouette from the bloody-eyed, vulnerable imaginary friend's perspective, Mr. Herriman obeyed an inside instinct that kept telling him urgently, get up! Get up at once! The black silhouette was coming closer. And getting clearer. He was having a horrible time catching his breath.

It was tall man with grey hair, and he had hard, dead eyes that looked like they were going to dance with glee. He reached out his arm and grabbed the shivering and bleeding imaginary friend by the neck. His mouth was fixed in a relentless grin that seemed to say for itself, 'You're going to die. Hard luck.'

"Hey, sir?" asked the stranger in an egotistic, acrid voice, "You uh... haven't seen some idiot named Falconlobo? Now tell me quick, cause I've got to kill her quickly, ya know?" Unfortunately, Mr. Herriman had been struck with such horror that he couldn't speak no more than a syllable. "W-What?!" That, and the searing pain from his bleeding eye was all he could think about, the only reason he started crying.

"You're... not going to speak?" said the hard-eyed psychopath. "H-Hey! Are you crying? Like a Gay? Ah man... ... Bummer. Well, whatever, dipshit."

The poor rabbit, shivering and weeping at the same time, thought the stranger crazy, but still had no strength to actually try and do anything about it. At the very least, this boorish, curt killer could've given his name, but that was probably asking for too much. And... such spectacular strength... horror set in at extreme levels when the man reached for his arm while still holding Mr. Herriman lightly above the floor.

"Oh! Do you want my name? It's uh, Dualsphere. And now I'm going to break your arm."

A million things darted into Mr. Herriman's narrow skull, all of them crippling shouts, cries, and shrieks of ugly protest, none of which he could properly voice. Dualsphere, or as he called himself, stretched out the left arm before he stretched to the point where Mr. Herriman opened his mouth to cry out in pain.

Someone... anyone... help...!! But it was no use screaming like that in his head. His head felt like it was full of helium, and the villain was making it hard for him to breathe.

"AAAAAAh!" went Dualsphere as well, "Don't scream like that, man! I can't fully enjoy myself if you're screaming!" Mr. Herriman saw a flash of a tongue, a flicker, run over Dualsphere's sadistic, nasty grin.

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP

Mr. Herriman's eyes, both of them, had gone stiff. His ears wouldn't stop ringing. His vision, because how his eyes stiffened, sharpened, before being swallowed up in a watery lens; he could easily see the smiling face of Dualsphere just staring back at him with patient glee. All of Mr. Herriman's receptors could up one thing: mind-splitting agony.

The stub where his left arm originally was let loose an ocean of blood down like a waterfall. The floor turned into a bloody pond.

Dualsphere stopped marvelling in the massacre he caused, and looked down. His face sported such a disgusting twist; he said, "Oh man, you messed up my fucking shoes. Okay. Well, I've got to get going. Laters, BITCH!"

Dualsphere dropped the torn arm, then raised his hand, and out of nowhere a gun appeared. Mr. Herriman could do nothing but continue to stare on, lifeless.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

Once Dualsphere decided to let go of the neck, It was more or less finished. Mr. Herriman's body fell with a plop in the small pool of red.

Dualsphere let out a snide laugh, then in a strange light he was already gone. "O-ho-ho-ho-holy SHIT, you look SWEET with all that blood. You know, for a gay-ass figment. Really, you should go.. uh... fornicatch-I MEAN, ah FUCK it, AAHHHH. Screw this bullshit! I'm going to go somewhere else!"

"Input code: 000.... Okay. I'm off." The voice faded into nothing.

The imaginary rabbit's attached arm still twitched. The color in his eyes drained. But even after everything, the madness of Falconlobo, those weird dreams, the mind-splitting pain and horrific eye scar, and the foyer ceiling and sparkling chandelier hanging overhead now fading away into a blackness, the last thing to come to Mr. Herriman's mind was:

Your language is... atrocious... young man... learn to control your tongue!

Mr. Herriman died still confused.

- Pause -

- Save and Quit?


NC: Magic Card Trick

Really would help if there were other people reading the fanfic, but unfortunately, I have 3 projects due in the next 5 days. Kind of thrilling, actually. I'll see you around. Till then...