Chapter 5- A Helping Hand
Walking to work had become a particularly tedious activity over the past few weeks, all thanks to Fungus. The little red monster had moved recently to a new apartment over the other side of town, and though there were obvious upsides to this for him, living within a five-minute walking distance from Monsters, Inc., for example, Randall found it very easy to point out the downsides. They now lived just a few blocks apart, much to the lizard-monster's dismay- Fungus, with a bit of research, had found out exactly what time Randall would leave for work each morning, wanting to walk with him for most of the way. And though Randall made the effort some mornings to leave ten minutes earlier or later than usual, Fungus would somehow manage to be there, waiting on his doorstep with that annoyingly happy smile stretched across his face.
This was one of those mornings. Leaning over to give a drowsy Fliss a hug goodbye, Randall whispered a quick "I'll see ya later," and was about to go out the room before he remembered something. "Oh, Fliss?" he said, shaking her gently. He waited for her to groan irritably before carrying on. "Since I won't be home 'til late, Fungus is gonna look after you for a bit, alright?" This made Fliss wake up properly. She opened her eyes, outraged.
"But Dad! You promised me you'd be here tonight! You gave me your word!"
"I know, I know..." As Randall edged his way out the room, he blurted out an excuse, noticing the time. "Waternoose had asked me to...err...do another errand, so I'm really busy-"
"Oh, whatever."
"No, seriously! Look, I swear I'll make it up to you." Fliss gave him a dismissive look, turning her head the other way and folding her arms. "I swear." Knowing that he could do no more, Randall rushed out the room, grabbing his keys and lunchbox, and took a glimpse at his own reflection in the mirror before swinging the door open and pushing an expectant Fungus aside. He then stopped in his tracks, his friend looking at him hopefully, and turned around.
"Hey there, Fungus," he began, his voice smooth yet undeniably sweet. Fungus was right to be nervous. "Let's walk and talk." They carefully made their way down several flights of broken and/or cracked stairs, plaster crumbling off the walls as they went, Randall's voice echoing up and down the corridors. "Y'know, Fungus, you've been a very good friend..." He drifted off as he manoeuvred his body down a particularly tricky section of stairs, wanting to opt for the easy road- climbing down via the walls- but, as he saw another large chunk of plaster fall to the corridor below, he decided that the way he was going, though perilous, was a lot safer. "You've been a good friend to me," he said, picking up from where he had left off. "And I know you've done me a lotta favours, but I might just have to ask another favour from you. Now, before you say anything, I know you've been busy lately, with your grandmother an' all," He breathed a sigh of relief as they reached the bottom, which was nothing compared to how overjoyed Fungus was to come to the end of the staircase. "But I wouldn't ask you if I wasn't desperate."
"Well, um, what is it?" Randall sighed, looking around the two of them. They were currently in what was previously a reception area- a dusty, rubble covered desk could be seen in one corner, crudely snapped in half, with a log-in book barely visible having slid halfway down the huge crack. The lights, which were off, looked antique and were ornately decorated in curling silver metal, and the floor, which was, unlike anything else in this block of mainly unused flats, a thing of beauty, was one-hundred percent Monstropolian mosaic. There was no light except for the sun's rays streaming in through two very small windows on either side of the shaky wooden door that led outside, and as Randall scooped down to retrieve the day's mail, the obscure sunlight danced over his scales, making him squint momentarily. He shuffled through the letters, not wanting to answer the question, and growled at bill after bill.
"Ya see, Fungus," he started in a quiet voice, sounding very absent, "I'm gonna be working quite late tonight and..."
"You want me to look after Fliss?" Randall looked up, heaving a sigh, and placed the bills on a dusty side-table, nodding slowly.
"Yeah...if you wouldn't mind..." Fungus suddenly grinned toothily, jumping over to the door and hauling it open.
"No problem, Randall! Anything for a friend!"
"Okay..." As they stepped outside, the early morning sunlight blinding them, Randall began to feel very guilty, as though he was taking advantage of his only friend. "Y'know, Fungus...ya don't have to walk to work with me every morning if ya don't want to. I mean, isn't it a bit of an...annoyance having to get up at half four every day?" Fungus swept a hand through the air, brushing the concern away.
"I don't mind at all! Though I still don't understand why you get up so early. I know we have a lot of paper work-"
"We've talked about this before, Fungus, and you know the reasons. I can't afford to start slacking." They walked the remainder of the way in silence, Randall yawning every now and then and Fungus peering up at him in a fretful manner. Randall hadn't noticed anything different about the way Fungus had been acting towards him for the past few weeks- except for the random, weird smiles and being happier overall- but Fungus HAD noticed something very different about Randall. The silence would've continued for a lot longer if the backward-kneed Scare Assistant hadn't had the guts to say something.
"Randall...don't you think you've been working too hard lately?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Fungus. Maybe if you were a little more precise...?" Rubbing his hands together nervously, Fungus suddenly realised that he was out of his depth in this situation, and found that he didn't want to carry on. Nevertheless, he was prepared to clarify his question.
"I-I mean, you've seemed very, um, tired and-"
"Not you too," Randall growled. He rolled his eyes, but understood that the only reason Fungus was concerned was because they were friends, and Randall hadn't had too many of those. He had to make this best of this one. "I'm fine."
"But you've been d-different and-"
"I said I'm fine." Threading a hand through his fronds, Randall knew that he had to make up yet another excuse otherwise Fungus would just keep digging deeper and deeper. How many excuses he had made over the past few months, Randall had no idea, and it was all that Scream Extractor's fault, Waternoose's fault. "Thanks for the concern, but it's nothing." Still peering up at Randall, Fungus continued to persist with what he started until he would get to the bottom of it all.
"Being Top Scarer for such a long period of time must be very exhausting, though. Are you sure..." Closing his eyes in annoyance, Randall stopped walking, letting Fungus carry on to no-one, and, with a swooshing sound, turned invisible. It took Fungus a few seconds to fully realise that Randall had gone, and when he did understand what had happened, he scurried away as quickly as he could, wanting to get to Monsters, Inc. before his friend arrived.
Fungus burst through the doors, puffing and panting, and stumbled up to the Reception's desk. He stayed there for several minutes, trying to catch his breath, and once he had recovered, wandered over to the clocking-in cards. Randall's had already been punched for the AM, so he obviously had arrived before Fungus. The short red monster began to panic- he had wanted to ask around as to whether anyone had any idea why Randall had been so strange lately. Fungus had even wanted to go as far as asking the company's boss, Waternoose, since Randall's excuse every time had been that he was on another errand for the CEO. But if Randall ever found out that Fungus had been asking around...
There was no-one to ask anyway, so the situation wasn't too bad. Fungus figured that he would just have to try again tomorrow. The problem was, with each day Randall seemed to be getting worse in all aspects- the way he looked, his mood- and it wasn't doing his reputation much good either. Therefore, he had to try and get this all sorted out, and he had to get it sorted quickly.
Fungus fidgeted, not knowing what to do with himself. He could try and find Randall, but, at that moment he didn't really feel like putting on an act in front of the lizard-monster- it was just too much hard work. Or he could wait for someone to come, say, Celia, and ask them a few questions...
This seemed to be the better idea, but the only comfortable place to wait, it seemed, was the Games Room. There wouldn't be anyone there which meant Fungus could have a bit of much-needed alone time, and at least it gave him something to do. He did as he thought, ending up reading the newspaper alone, the electronic sounds of the games-machines whirring in the background.
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"See ya later, my beloved Shmoopsie-Poo!" Mike waved frantically before twirling on the spot, Sulley just lifting a hand up to Celia before dragging his friend away from Reception.
"Come on Mike, I've gotta get my stuff." Mike's little act faded away at the sincerity of the furry, and he bounded up to him, wanting to ask a question.
"Well, since you're getting trained do you REALLY need to carry on with the whole janitor thing? What's the point?"
"The point is to keep Monsters, Incorporated clean. I haven't been promoted yet, Mike." They had reached the point in the corridor where they would split up, Mike going to Scarefloor F and Sulley carrying on down to the garbage disposal for the daily check-up. As they departed, Mike reminded Sulley of a conversation they had had earlier that morning.
"You gonna tell me who that Trainer is yet? Or is it still all a 'big secret'? Come ON Sul, you've been training for weeks now and you still won't tell me?!" Getting slightly agitated, Sulley grabbed hold of his friend, looking down at him sternly.
"I am not telling you who's training me, and I'm not telling you how much longer it's going to be. Now leave it, Mike." He eventually let go, making sure that Mike got the idea, but both turned their heads at another voice bouncing off the walls.
"Sullivan! Here! NOW!"
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Fungus put the newspaper down on a side-table, jumping as some Scarers came into the Games Room for a bit of early-morning rivalry, and quickly hopped out, smiling nervously. As he reached the main foyer, he was relieved to see that Celia had arrived and was doing her daily business behind the Reception desk, beginning to answer the first calls of the morning. Leaping up to the Reception yet having to attract Celia's attention by calling up at her, (he was far too short to be seen) Fungus continued to jump about excitedly, seeming quite hyperactive. It took the receptionist several seconds to realise that there was someone jabbering to her, and to understand what he was saying, but once he had finished, she stood up straight again, wondering what all the bother was about.
"Where Randall is? Oh...umm, let me see now...Well, I did see him going down the corridor to some Scarefloors earlier, though I don't know whether he's still there..."
"Which Scarefloors?"
"Probably F and the others in the same corridor- he is on that Scarefloor after all. What's all the panic about?" Fungus took some deep, steadying breaths, knowing that he had overreacted.
"Nothing much, I'll just be off now- bye!" He took three large steps before swivelling back round again (which made Celia have to change her what's-wrong-with-HIM? expression to a pleasantly surprised expression) and returning to Reception. "Oh, Celia!"
"Yes, Fungus?"
"I was wondering, um," he began, turning his voice down a notch or two and acting as though he was passing on some kind of a secret which, in essence, he was. "if you could, this evening I think, look after Randall's...you know, daughter, Felicity? Just because there's been, err, unforeseen circumstances and I can't look after her..." Celia nodded, understanding why he was acting all hush-hush.
"Okay, what time should I go round to his? Or maybe it'd be better if I talked to him about it myself-"
"NO! I mean, no, no, that's unnecessary- I can tell him myself. You should go about, say, well, any time right after work, it's not like Felicity is a baby or anything, so. Yes." Giving Fungus a slightly bewildered look, Celia remained silent for a little bit before remembering what he had talked to her about in the first place.
"Don't you have to catch Randall...?"
"Yes, err, bye!" Fungus skidded along the waxed floor, hoping to catch up with his colleague, and as soon as he began to make his way down the Scarefloor corridor, he heard a distinct Hoosier accent, which just could not be mistaken for anyone else in the company. It was short and sharp today though, meaning that Randall was in a bad mood.
Catching sight of a flash of purple, Fungus had a stupid idea. He hid in the shadows of a corner and peeked round, watching the scene. Mike was looking particularly distraught as his best buddy humbly walked up to Randall, and soon left, feeling outcast, which left Sulley and, of course, Randall.
"You haven't been talking about...about the training, have you? Because if you have..." the lizard-monster began quietly after checking that no-one was eavesdropping. Sulley looked taken aback, lifting his hands defensively.
"No, no, of course not!" Randall sighed.
"Good." Once again, he looked from side to side, giving barely ay attention to the monster he was talking to. "Should we go somewhere more private?" Shrugging, Sulley's mind began to turn. Why was Randall suddenly so anxious, so uptight?
"Depends what we're talking about." Randall folded his arms, deciding what would be best.
"Nothing much, just that I can't train you tonight."
"Again?" Sulley exclaimed. "But Randall, it's been five nights in a row now! I'm never going to become a Scarer at this rate!"
"Yeah, and at this rate the whole friggin' world'll know it," he muttered, hoping that his student would get the hint. "I'm busy, okay? There's nothing I can do about it. It's not one of those things that I can change the time of or anything, so don't get your hopes up. No training tonight. The – end." Nodding slowly, Sulley acknowledged that this was the conclusion of the discussion and headed to the garbage disposal, getting on with what he was doing before. Randall also left the scene, going into his Scarefloor to begin the usual morning preparations.
Fungus knew that he should go with him, but as he got up from his hiding place, (he had been crouching) he noticed that he still had over an hour left to help Randall, which meant that he had over an hour left to do a bit of snooping. And the best person to start off with was obvious- James P. Sullivan. But wait! a little voice in his head said, halting him. What if Sullivan tells Randall that you've been asking around? It didn't seem like such a good idea after all, though Fungus was still determined to find something out. But his opportunity disappeared in a second- Randall had come off the Scarefloor to grab a cup of something, and had spotted his scare assistant.
"Fungus," he started, but as the little red monster nervously hopped up to him, he realised he had made a mistake. "You comin' on the Scarefloor soon?"
"Err, no, I mean yes! Yes!" Randall's brows furrowed.
"Are you okay..?"
"Fine! Just fine!" Fungus licked his lips, thinking of what to say, but the best thing to do, it seemed, was to just go. "Bye!" His eyes following his overexcited friend, Randall put his hands on his hips, wondering what had just happened. Then he remembered something quite important- that this was Fungus, and that he didn't really care about him right at the moment because of all the other things he had to think about. But he still couldn't help question whether Fungus's behaviour was...out of the ordinary or not...and if it was, why?
Oh, Randall sighed to himself, it doesn't matter. I've got other things on my mind... And with that settled, he picked up his beverage, staring thoughtfully into the cup for a second before returning to the Scarefloor.
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It was dark. Too dark, for Fungus's liking, but he was willing to put up with it if it meant getting to the bottom of months of watching his friend, Randall, change moods almost every second, from reasonably pleasant to hot fiery anger to subtle depression and utter fatigue. The third and final stage was always the worst- Randall, without knowing it, would go around with a sad, tired look, his eyes downcast, and his motions slow and seeming to be pointless. An easy answer to all of this was work, as Randall was known to be a bit of a workaholic and had been, recently, on the Scarefloor more than he had been at home. Fungus thought these thoughts with a touch of sadness; what must it be like for poor Felicity, never being able to see her father?
But none of this explained what Randall did almost every evening. Some of the time, as Fungus had found out, was taken by training Sulley, but that didn't take hours every evening, did it? Anyway, Randall had cancelled this particular training session, yet he was still there, at Monsters, Inc. after hours.
The plan to find out some much needed information that Fungus had formulated wasn't exactly...well, going to plan. He had left the Scarefloor as usual, after Randall so that he could clean up after him, but though he had hurried with his errands, he had still lost sight of the lizard-monster. Fungus DID manage, though, to ask around and get an idea of his whereabouts and, according to a passing janitor, Randall was last seen around Scarefloor F. Following these directions, Fungus had returned to the Scarefloor and had immediately spotted a pile of papers on Randall's desk that he didn't recollect being there before. But though Fungus had all the enthusiasm in the world, going into a dark Scarefloor alone...
He wouldn't dare turn the lights on- what if Randall was there and he noticed? A sudden thought struck Fungus. Randall could turn invisible. Fungus could wander into the Scarefloor, looking around and trying to find him without him noticing, but he might have blended in the background! And what if Randall caught him? What excuse would he make?
Fungus stopped himself before his nerves could get any worse. Thinking of all the bad things that could happen was not the solution. All he had to do was be brave, and face his fears...
Tip-toeing though the doors, Fungus made sure to leave them half-open to let in a bit of light- he wouldn't be able to see what he was doing otherwise. Every footstep he made seemed to be glaringly loud, as were his teeth chattering, and as each second passed, he became more and more worried and hoped that his luck wouldn't vanish too soon.
He had made it to the desk. Great. Sighing with relief, Fungus picked up one of the pieces of paper, holding his glasses forward to his eyes. He gasped. In his hand he held an intricate drawing of what seemed to be some kind of machine...Fungus searched the other papers. This one had quite spidery writing, which was sloped the wrong way- Randall's...and this one had been written with a thick, blotchy pen, that had smudged to the point of it being illegible...
There was a metallic clank not too far from Fungus, making him literally jump. It reverberated around the whole room, repeating itself over and over...
Once his susceptible heart had slowed after a period of alarm, Fungus crept to where he thought the noise had come from- behind the desk, around the far wall. He had been right, and as he laid eyes on the perpetrator, he shook his head and smiled to himself- it had only been the cover of a vent. This vent was unusually large though, hot air pumping through it, and as Fungus looked closer at its metal cover, he realised that this vent-cover hadn't just magically fallen off by itself- two screws that had secured it to the wall had been undone on purpose, and if Fungus still wasn't convinced, a screwdriver was to be found right in the centre of the crime scene.
A little burst of excitement erupted inside of him. This could be the chance for a quick adventure, Fungus thought to himself. No, no, what was he thinking? The sensible thing to do would be to notify a member of staff tomorrow morning. At least, that was what the logical part of his brain was saying- all ninety-nine percent of it.
But Randall was an old friend, and if this was anything to do with him...And it was blatantly obvious that the lizard-monster didn't want anyone finding out what he was doing if this WAS part of what had been making him so grouchy and moody recently...Fungus couldn't afford to loose yet another friend, no matter how...unfriendly that friend could be...
And there was still that opportunity of a quick adventure, which would almost certainly promise, well, a bit of fun and...risk.
It was what you could call a unanimous vote (if the courageous one percent of Fungus's brain could have as many votes as it wanted, that is) and Fungus decided that if he DID end up finding any important information about anything, he would inform personnel of the highest rank in the company, even if that meant betraying one of his friends. After all, doing the right thing would always be right.
Getting down on his knees, Fungus slowly crawled into the small space presented before him, ready to greet the darkness and immensely pleased with himself for just having the guts to do anything remotely adventurous.
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Randall grinned. It had taken him a long time to get the exact right fitting for what he needed- and to get a brand new one at that- but as he unwrapped the protective packaging that encased the computer chip, he realised that it had all been worth it.
It was a beautiful piece of handiwork, though something that Randall could've easily done himself, given the right instruments, components, and, something that Randall had very little of- time. But it was because of these requirements that he had been forced to 'order out' the part, ready for him to program it for his needs. The melded strips of foil on this immensely tiny object shone in the dim light as Randall turned it over and over in his hands, joy that he hadn't experienced for quite a while flowing through his veins.
He then turned around, and stood and stared at his creation for a moment or two, appreciating the half-finished machine for the first time. Randall couldn't help but let a slightly regrettable thought pass through his mind- how proud Fliss would be of him once all the hard work was over, when 'Randall J. Boggs' was a household name and he was earning good money, living a comfortable life. When this time would come, Randall knew that Fliss would love him as a daughter loves her father- constantly and truly. Oh, how Randall longed for this time to come. But he would have to wait just a bit longer before his dreams could be fulfilled. Just a bit longer. Just a bit longer.
Getting back to work, Randall was preparing to crawl under his precious machine when the desk-lamp on the nearby table (which, incidentally, was covered with papers as was every other even surface in the room. Well, it was either that or random mechanical parts or lengths of wire) moved- he could tell as the light was aimed directly at his face, making him raise his arms up. He suddenly felt very scared. Lamps, as far as he knew, didn't move by themselves. They needed monsters or SOMETHING remotely alive to move them. Which meant that there was a monster (or something) in Randall's hideaway. And that, obviously, wasn't a good thing- hence his hideaway being called a hideaway.
Taking a few steps towards the blaring light, Randall became very fretful at the thought of someone finding out anything of Waternoose's plan and his involvement in it, and his eyes darted left and right constantly, though they couldn't see much- they had begun watering a little because of the intense light. His hand snatched out at the lamp's switch, then, seeing movement in the shadows and deciding that he would need some kind of weapon, Randall let the darkness overcome his opponent, quickly grabbing the torch that lay on the floor nearby, and braced himself.
There was more movement, only a few metres away. Randall aimed the torch into a particularly dark corner of the room, his pupils growing large in the dark, his eyes wide open. He had to time this well, to surprise whoever it was that had, essentially, invaded his privacy.
Something moved again, this time more violently.
Any second now...
"WHAAA!"
A small, red being jumped out of the shadows at the sudden burst of light, clawing at Randall and making him step back, also yelping. Everything was panicky and confused for several seconds, with a shaking burgundy lump resting against the control panel and the lizard-monster, still trying to get over the shock of what had just happened, with both upper hands cupped over his left eye and cheek. There was a stunned silence before Randall gradually made his way to his desk-lamp and, making sure that it was facing the right way, (a.k.a., not in his face) switched it on.
He lowered his hands, revealing several semi-deep scratches, one perilously close to an eye, and sighed with open relief at the intruder.
It's only Fungus! he thought happily to himself. Only Fungus...There's someone here. There's actually someone here. Damnit.
"You IDIOT!" Randall seemed to prowl up to Fungus, sticking his own face right in front of his. "You...ARRGH!" He then swept an arm across a table, clearing it in seconds. Fungus was scared beyond belief, but was ready to try and talk to his friend.
"R-Randall...what's t-that?" He had said exactly the wrong thing, and a moment after he had twitched his head in the direction of the Scream Extractor, any attempts for Randall to control his own temper had sprouted wings and flown out the window. He stormed up to Fungus, every inch of his very being, his very soul, fuming with absolute fury. He didn't need this. "RANDALL! P-Please!" Fungus pleaded, backing away quickly.
"I have worked SO hard for this, y'know, and now YOU'VE come and YOU'VE just RUINED IT ALL!" Fungus, of course, had no idea what Randall was talking about, but this didn't stop him from being afraid. Raising his arms as Randall had done before, he squealed as the cold of the wall came up behind him. He was trapped. Randall could be a very menacing creature when he wanted to, baring his teeth and glaring powerfully, but when he really saw the terrified look on Fungus's face and understood that it was himself that had caused this, the expression on his face went from one extreme to the other- first, a picture of rage, and then, gradually, an appearance of doubt and sadness.
Fungus didn't even know what was going on, did he? He was just looking out for a friend, wanting to know what had been causing Randall such discomfort for what seemed like such a long time...he was only being loyal...
Randall closed his eyes, feeling the terrible wrath of his temper cool down, slowly but surely, and soon enough, he was the monster that Fungus was used to. But, then again, Fungus had crossed wires with Randall's temper many times before, so seeing him angry was as Fungus probably knew him.
He knows me as a... monster...doesn't he? And yet he still thinks of me as a friend...
Randall turned around, a hand on his face, at a lost at what to do. He couldn't just throw Fungus out, not after he had seen the Scream Extractor, and he was bound to ask questions. But he couldn't get him involved. No, that wouldn't do. Waternoose would loose HIS temper if he found out about Fungus helping out, and banishment would be nigh. Though Randall really could use an extra pair of hands... He would be able to get the machine finished in record time, ahead of schedule, and might even be home every evening in time to spend a few hours with Fliss before she went to bed. It would be great! But there was still the issue of Waternoose...Then it struck him. The most obvious answer to all his problems.
As Randall thought things through slowly and carefully, Fungus began to side-step away, edging along the wall and hoping to get out of wherever he was before the fearsome lizard-monster could stop him. He had caught sight of an exit, though he had absolutely no idea where it led, but if it meant getting out of this place and away from Randall, it didn't matter. But Randall wasn't as stupid as Fungus had hoped him to be. There were a few seconds of silence, except for the rushing of the air in the pipes above, in which the Scare Assistant just slowly edged away and Randall was to be seen somewhere behind his messy desk. It didn't last very long though, and as soon as Randall had decided what he was to do, he advanced towards Fungus, looking a little apologetic.
"Fungus?" The monster he had addressed practically screamed at the sound of his own name, and stood stock-still like a rabbit in headlights, mouth wide open and eyes popping. "About earlier...You caught me at the wrong time. A lot's been going on recently...I didn't mean to loose my temper..." This took him by surprise. He didn't expect Randall to say anything, let alone apologise. Wanting to accept it gracefully, he pointed at the Scream Extractor with a shaky finger.
"W-what's that?" Randall sighed, knowing that this would take a little while, and cleared a chair, beckoning Fungus to sit on it and make himself comfortable. He was quietly confident with himself, and knew that he could tell his friend anything as long as the two of them played by the one and only rule- what Waternoose didn't know couldn't hurt him.
"I like to call it the Scream Extractor, or SE."
"And w-what does it d-do?" Fungus was still jittering like a pair of wind-up teeth, and this was really starting to annoy Randall.
"Relax, Fungus, re-laaax. We're friends, right? That's why I'm telling you all this, right? Right?" As a reply, he nodded, wanting to make it clear that he agreed.
"Of course, R-Randall. Yes!"
"You asked me what this machine does. Well, isn't it just a little obvious in the name? If it ain't, I guess I gotta think of a new name." Still puzzled, Fungus pushed back his glasses (a habit of his) and licked his lips.
"But why?"
"Why did I build it?" Randall patted the metallic side of his machine, relishing the freshness of the smooth texture that it had. "Y'know all those 'scream shortages' that have made the headlines recently? I wanted to help out, contribute in the world of scream-produced energy. And, yes, make a name for myself while I was at it. Why not? I had an idea, it worked on paper, and so I built it. It'll help Monster-kind, and that's all I'm really concerned about. Well, that and the money." He chuckled at his own joke, then smiled warmly at Fungus. "You're free to help out if you want. Ya gotta use that 180 IQ for something, don'tcha?" This was all a little too much for Fungus, and he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.
"But what about Waternoose? Does he know about all of this? Won't HE want to take the credit rather than a reptile-monster?" In a second, he realised the terrible mistake he had just made, saying such a thing, and if he didn't, Randall's hurt glare said it all. But now was the time for Randall to begin lying, and because of what the person he was to be lying to just said, he found that he didn't mind anymore. And it all got even worse when the lizard-monster found himself to be thinking about what Fungus had just said, about Waternoose taking the credit. But he wouldn't do that. That was a silly idea. Waternoose wouldn't dare.
Would he?
"He doesn't know. There's no point of building something and telling your boss about it halfway through when, in the end it might not even work. I couldn't take that risk, Fungus. Especially since my job depends on the boss's opinion of me." Fungus blinked understandingly, threading his fingers together thoughtfully.
"So this is why you've been asking me to look after Felicity? You've been busy with your Scream Extractor?" Nodding guiltily and sorrowfully, Randall found himself automatically getting up and reaching for a ratchet- he couldn't stay in the same room as his machine for five minutes without working on it. He scratched the back of his head, and with a spare hand, picked up the precious chip that he had been unwrapping earlier.
"Hey, Fungus? You any good with linking up computer chips to machinery?"
And, from then on, Fungus liked to think that the Scream Extractor was a shared project, and that he and Randall were partners to a certain extent. But he was wrong.
