"Summin's comin'."
"Mphm." Dollface grunted back to her sister.
Small town, small world.
When the richest man in the world showed up to see his baby girl and some random Elmore kids, people took note.
They had a connection somehow, and an online consiracy theorist, a real crackpot by the name of Shane Dawson, the one that made up stupid theories about Chuck E. Cheese's recycling pizzas, had decided the leader of the Fazbear Band girl group was somehow connected to Funtum after digging up a youtube video.
The video in question included Fazbear and Regina talking about random shit.
And the line 'My sister from the states.'
Regina puffed away like a chimney next to Dollface in the matching rocking chair Great Great Grandpa Cowatch had fixed in his basement in South Elmore as a wedding present to his soon-to-be Fiancé, now wife. Reggie rocked back and forth in her green vest and trucker hat, puffs floating from her mouth around the limply dangling Marlboro as she huddled in Eustace Cowatch's old Carhart jacket.
"Thought I told y'all t'quit."
"I don' giv'a shit." Reggie replied.
Dollface snorted. They'd have to check the bear traps in the woods behind the house.
Not like any bears were out and about at this time.
Reggie stomped a hiking boot on the wooden boards of the porch to announce the arrival.
Dollface looked ahead on the flat horizon of the Cowatch family's driveway just an expanse of gravel stopped by empty, flat, and long harvested farming fields.
Just an endlessly dull expanse of gray.
Like the sky full of equally grey turtle shit-like clouds.
Regina stomped again as the greasy shitbag snuck up. The little rat of a man jumped at the sound.
He was hiding something.
"Chuckie- Charles- Custer." Dollface said, unblinking behind rose gold aviators, ones that matched Reggie's.
Chuckie Custer looked at the girls, shoving the lump in his pocket further in. "Y-yes?"
"You Missy's uncle 'r summin'?"
"Y-yes?" Chuckie said, not as prepared as he thought he was.
"So, uh, what'cha doin' here?" Dollface asked, leather bomber creaking as she leaned over the armrest closest to the porch railing.
"Just wanted to con-gra-joo-late ya on yer leavin'."
"Oh, why thank ya kin'ly, sir." Reggie said. It was like they had targets on their backs.
It just took the town sixteen years for the world to realize it.
"What's in yer pocket?" Dollface asked, cutting to the point.
"Oh, just a lil gift." Chuckie said, nodding and pursing his thin lips. It made him look like a balding fish or a snake that swallowed a rubber ball. Chuckie pulled out two Funtum lollipops.
"Othuh pocket." Dollface said, standing with her Grandfather's deer hunting rifle. Regina handed her the box of buckshot, hair poofing out in a spiralling mess around her grandfather's favorite summer cap.
"Well I don't think ya wanna, it's just some stuff I need t'drop off." he nervously giggled to himself.
"Drop off where?" Reggie asked accusingly.
Chuckie stammered, watching Dollface.
Dollface grabbed two shell and snapped them with her thumb into the two holes off the sideways barrel. "Y'all know my first deer was a ten-point buck. I was eleven."
Chuckie watched her snap the double barreled shotgun shut, wood to steel. "Fed us fer months."
"Well, that's real nice." Chuckie said, gulping. He backed away, hands in his ripped vest pockets again.
Dollface listened to the chick-chack as she cocked the gun. "Since? Five t'eight pointers, twelve rabbits, sev'ral quail, an' a pheasant. That last one was, th'pheasant, was an…."
Dollface braced the butt of the shotgun against her, then finished, "Accident."
Chuckie gulped.
"Happy Nondenominational Holidays, motherfucker."