by Joy
NOTE: This is my first full-length fic, so please review! But be gentle. *grin*
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Chapter One - Randall's Return
It was a crisp, cool autumn day in the muggy, swampy bogs of southern Louisiana. The sun ducked behind the dense forests of mangrove trees that seemed to stretch on for miles and a multi-colored glow radiated from the remaining light. Purples, reds, pinks, and oranges danced off the clouds, ushering in another night. One of the many that a certain purple-scaled lizard monster had spent there. That lizard monster was Randall Boggs, former second-best at Monsters Inc. He sat up in a moss-covered tree, his thin tail curled around his cold body. He watched the sunset as if in deep thought. How could everything have gone so wrong? He knew now more than ever that it was all the doormat and eyeball's faults.
If they hadn't poked their authoritave noses in his plans, he probably would have been the head of Monsters Inc. Not in a dull, dismal swamp trying in vain to catch fish and keep from being alligator chow. How he hated them. Ever since that day when he was thrown in that rundown old trailerhome with that stupid lady and her son, life had been one big mess. She had left him with a case of migranes and a lame arm, so catching his food was harder than he had ever expected. So, he had to resort to sneaking over to the local alligator farm to steal some gator chow. It tasted more like old boots. He made a face at the taste, which still lingered in his mouth from the evening's dinner.
He knew he had to get out of that swamp soon, or he swore he'd lose his mind - and his lunch. One serving of gator chow after another was one too many. A sudden gust of cold wind blew over him. He shivered and closed his eyes. Being cold-blooded definately had it's disadvantages. Randall leaned his back against the tree trunk when he suddenly heard voices. His fronds perked up and his eyes flew open. He crawled to the end of the branch and looked over the trees to the alligator farm. There were two dark figures and a truck loaded with boxes. Swiftly, Randall slithered down the tree and snuck over to a patch of bushes nearby to listen.
"Yeah, I can get that shipment down to Miami in no time," a tall, lanky man told the other in a southern drawl.
"It must be overnight," a short, fat one told him.
Randall recognised him as the owner of the gator farm. He had once tried to capture him to see if he could raise him in his farm. Since then, Randall was more cautious when visiting. He had talked about making him into a fine pair of boots. That thought disgusted him.
"Sure, no problem," Mr. Lanky replied casually, as if he didn't care if it made it or not.
"Good, now git, I've got gators to feed," the owner said, turning back around to leave.
Randall's eyes followed him until he was gone and then he slithered silently onto the back of the truck, hiding amongst the boxes. Maybe this was his ticket out of the human world, wherever this 'Miami' was, he had the feeling that there'd be plenty of kids there. Which also meant active closet doors. Which finally came down to him finding his way back to the human world to get revenge on those responsible for his banishment. He was going to make it once way or another. It was so close he could almost feel it.
A grin spread across his face as he made himself comfortable for the trip. He happened to bump against a box, it moved and gave out a low hiss. Randall stared at it in surprise and looked at the label on the front of the box.
"Caution. . .Live Gators," he read silently. "Hmph. Great, just great. Now I have to keep them from making a racket or else this idiot'll probably come back to check on 'em. . ."
He sighed and folded his arms across his chest as he sat on one of the many boxes of live gators. He made sure his tail wasn't hanging through the holes in the boxes as a door bang was heard. Mr. Lanky was mumbling about late night deliveries before stepping on the gas. Randall had to hang on tight to keep from falling off the box as the truck suddenly sped off through the swamp.
"Where'd this guy learn to drive anyways??" he muttered with irritation, gripping the box underneath him with every turn.
But he convinced himself this was only a minor inconvinence. Soon he'd be home and this horrible nightmare would be over. Then he could begin creating Sulley and Mike's own nightmare. . . .
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A few hours later, the truck pulled into the glowing light of a gas station to fill up. Randall had fallen asleep on the floor of the cargo bed. He had moved a few boxes around to make a space big enough, but it was worth it. The vehicle jerked to a stop as it almost recklessly speeded into a station.
Randall was rudely awakened as his head banged against one of the crates, causing an alligator to hiss firercely. "Would you shut up already?" he said groggily without opening his eyes. The gator quieted.
He groaned and finally decided to open his eyes. When he did, he was greeted by the blinding glare of the electric lights above. Squinting so as not to hurt his eyes, he cursed under his breath then peeked out over the wooden guardrails. Mr. Lanky was filling the vehicle up with gas and whistling 'Dixie' as he waited. Randall scanned the area and spotted a sign across the road that read, 'Welcome to Miami'. It wasn't the bustling city area he was expecting. It was just the country outskirts, but it was good enough for him.
"This must be it," he said to himself, crawling out of the back while Lanky's back was turned. "I'm outta here. . ."
He ran across the street into the ditch and began following the road to see where it led. Surely, he'd find a house with children along the way. But as he was walking through the grass, someone was watching. At the gas station, a figure had spotted him sneaking out of the truck and their eyes were now trained on him, as if he was something they had been waiting for. The figure slowly slunk off into the shadows behind the station.
Randall walked for several miles before finding a suitable house. It was perfect for small children. He climbed over the fence into the backyard and stepped on a toy train. He had to bite his lip so as not to make any noise, but that hurt like heck. He kicked it aside and snuck over to the house. He knew there must have been a small kid inside, because their backyard was full of toys, balls, ride-on vehicles, and a playground set. After a bit of searching, he found an open window. He saw that it led to an empty hallway, so he carefully slid it open a bit more - just enough so that he could crawl inside. He landed with a soft 'thump' on the burgandy carpet and took a minute to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. The only light that was there was moonlight that shone in through the window.
He turned around to untangle his tail from a window plant when a menacing growl came from behind him. He froze for a moment. If there was one thing he was scared of, it was big dogs. The growling got closer just as he finished untangling the vines. Randall spun around to see. . . .a very ferocious Chihuahua. He saw the size of the dog and took in a deep breath of relief, scolding himself for getting scared of such a creature before he knew what it really was.
He just lept over the animal and marched towards the kid's bedroom. Abviously, the Chihuahua didn't like this very much because he ran over and bit him firmly on the tail. Randall winced, again trying not to awaken anyone in the house. But this time it was harder. A muffled cry came out of his mouth and he furiously grabbed the dog, stuffing it in the nearby laundry chute. Who knew such a little dog could bite so hard?
"Stupid mutt," he grumbled, checking his tail before heading towards the kid's door again. "Probably has rabies. . ."
Strangely enough, there was talking inside and the child's light seemed to be on. Randall opened the door with a slow creak and stuck his head in. The kid, a little girl, was giggling. Her closet door was beginning to close as a familiar monster walked out. It was Fungus! What in the heck was he doing in this kid's room? And how in the world did he become a Scarer? The girl was supposed to be scared - not laughing! The sight thoroughly confused him, but he was determined to find out. He vanished from sight and followed Fungus through the door and onto the Scarefloor. Or, at least, what he thought was the Scarefloor. . .
His eyes widened as he looked around. Every which way he turned there was something he didn't recognise. Banners with the words 'Think Funny' hung above the stations, balloons floated to the ceiling, and there were prank materials and pies everywhere. He couldn't figure it out.
"What happened. . .?" he muttered in disgust. Everything was way too cheery for his liking - scary even.
"This is the Laughfloor," a voice from behind him said.
Randall turned around to see a tall gecko-like monster with blue eyes and a big crest of blonde hair arching over his face. The gecko-monster's face lit up when he saw Randall. "Wait! Randall? That really you?" he asked with excitement.
Randall squinted and then recognised who it was. "Caylin?" he replied. "What. . .you're not supposed to be here. And what are you talking about?"
"I'm not?" Caylin said, pausing to think. "Well Sulley, the new CEO, made all the Scarefloors into Laughfloors and-"
"Wait just a minute here," Randall interrupted. "You mean to say, SULLEY'S the new CEO??"
"Yup."
"Ugh!!"
"He's a really nice guy."
"He's the one who banished me!"
"Really? He banished you?"
"Duh. Who else would have the nerve to do that to me? Fungus?"
Caylin shrugged. He hadn't seen Randall for about a year, but the news of his mysterious disappearance spread like wildfire. Banishment was a newsflash as far as he was concerned. Nobody knew about what really happened to him except Mike and Sulley and even then they never mentioned it in public. Just then, Fungus came up next to him with disbelief written all over his face.
"Randall? Is that really you?" he asked with a slighly nervous tone in his voice.
Randall slapped his forehead. "I'm NOT going over this again. . ." he replied, abruptly picking up Fungus and bringing him to his face. "There. Do I look like myself? Okay. Good."
He then dropped him. Some assistant, he thought. Fungus was probably most glad that he was banished to a cold, wet swamp, so seeing him again made his anger rise. As far as he was concerned, the only monster who was actually loyal to him was Caylin. He had to admit, he liked the guy for that quality. But he also figured that if he were to get proper revenge on Sulley and Mike, he'd need Fungus. So, instead of putting him through the door shredder as he had previously planned, he decided to get him to help.
"Hey, you two," he began, putting his hands together. "I've got plans for Sullivan and Wazowski. A little revenge, if you will. They're the ones responsible for my month of torture in the Human World, so I'm going to give them their payback. And I need you two to help me. You will, won't you?"
Caylin paused and exchanged looks with Fungus. He then looked back at Randall. "I'll help you," Caylin agreed. "It's not gonna hurt them alot is it?"
"No, not at all," Randall lied. "Fungus? What about you?"
"Uh, er, well. . ."
Randall glared at him.
". . .Sure! Why not?"
"Perfect," he said, motioning them to follow as he walked out of the Laughfloor.