Hey guyses. What a nice little Randall - Fan hang out this site is!
This is an updated, edited version of the origional story. Much it the same, save for a little more description.
Please R+R and tell me what I could do better - and hopefully what I did well:p. Thanks, all!
The terrible reek of the bayou events still stuck to Randall's reptilian mind. Waking up that morning, an impending sense of complete and utter humiliation wafted in the air -
something he was not used to.. Something else for everybody at Monster's Inc to scoff at today. Not even the call of the classic Big Band music radiating from the bizarre
radio beside his bed could make his outlook any brighter. A wise man once said: "When you fall off the horse, you get back on."
However, if you have been -
flogged raw by a particularily powerful redneck,
have nearly escaped a pot of Gumbo,
Waded through a filthy swamp for a matter of days
Gossiped about, Shunned, jeered at,
and now smell like you've been flogged by a redneck, narrowly escaped a pot of gumbo, made a kiddie pool out of a swamp -
Most likely you'rea considerable amount less likely to get back on the horse. Randall's determination would not be frayed.
However, his pride could be.
He drew a deep breath in.The constant chatter of the lobby seeped through even the heavy glass doors of the factory, and he had a hunch it was mostly about him. The
soft morning sunshine poured through the many windows, almost trying to assure him that the day would not be useless.
Pushing open the doors, the floor went almost silent. The only voice above a suspicious whisper was Celia's squeaking greetings to big boss callers. He smiled. This was
what he missed! The fear and cowers of monsters was positive fuel. Every cower, every twitch, every step back was absolute beauty. The factory looked much the same as
it used to, however its maturity was obliterated. Baloons, streamers and "joke of the day" banners drove every ounce of the classy, sophisticated decor that used to
be.Today's read: "One in fifteen people are sociopaths. If you don't know any, it's you."
Drinking in this new and considerably tacky scenery, he glanced around the room. The monsters each pretended to be merely attending to their everyday activities, but
shot quite obvious and lengthy gawks. He didn't mind. Being the center of attention - and source of intimidation was perfectly fine with him. Walking towards the candy
machines, he lost their attention by his calm movements. Mr. Boggs then made like the B.C. Conservative party and vanished.
The soft morning sunshine poured through the many windows, almost trying to assure him that the day would not be useless.
"The guy's a killer! I honestly can't believe they let him back. What's more - Fungus took him! That little shimp has some guts, I'll tell you that."
said a rather hefty slug - like creature, his voice returned to its normal pitch now that the threat was gone.
"Killer...Not a clown?" he sneered, and wandered amongst the crowd. He spied Needleman and Smitty in a deserted hallway branching off from the atrium, the two social
outcasts that would shiver if they were in a one hundred mile radius of Randall Boggs.
" - I'm not worried. He's a weenie, remember? Sulley took him out with one punch."
He wished the every zit and blemish the world had to offer on them. Not true! he thought. Wait...it was a three year old human girl. Still - nothing like a little momentum!
"Hello boys!" he hissed slithering into view.
"Oh! Mr - Mr. Boggs we were just talking about you!" cried Needleman in a suddenly reverant tone.
"I thought so." he began to advance on the two of them, fronds perking up in the air, as if preparing for attack. His tail wrapped itself around the throat of the poor little nerd,
as the other looked on in horror, not letting a cracking peep escape from his mouth.
The scales were silky - almost sickeningly so. Most monsters envied them, and at that moment, Needleman couldn't blame them, although he was sure they would have
been much nicer if they weren't drapped on him like a python on a mouse.
"Things are going to change now...You got that?" he said in a tauntingly soft tone, and skidded away, invisable.
Randall was back and -
"All Comedians and Assistants please report to your floors."
it was revenge time. It was against every Sunday School moral he had ever known, but at this point, any sacrifice was a just one in order to get a few moments of sweet,
sweet retrabution.
