As most Randall-fans should know, today is a sad day. It's been three years since the film came out, and therefore three years since Randall was 'banished'. (I say 'banished' in the loosest of terms, of course.) So, it's mere coincidence that the next chapter of my fic is up today. cough
Chapter 3- Chicken
"Hello? Anyone there?" Andy shook his head. "For pity's sake..." He turned back around to Randall, rolled his eyes very slowly, as though this particular ceiling that he was currently staring at happened to have lovely pictures of female monsters in bikinis all over it, and eyed the door in front of him, ready to ask a question. But before he could utter a word, the monsters behind him came back to life.
"Randall?! What are you doing here?!" Ranft said in absolute astonishment. The others exclaimed similar things, but Randall cut them off before they irritated him any more than they already had done.
"If you're not buying anything, I'd advise for you to leave." Andy wasn't at all deterred by this, and asked the previous question.
"The café's through that door, right?" Randall, looking quite bemused as a flashing neon sign above him clearly stated, with an arrow, "Entrance of café through door," (it might've been quite wordy, but he and his business partner had wanted a sign that would mean no-one would ask them of where the café was) and that illuminated his scales quite nicely, tilted his head slightly to the left, narrowing his eyes, and sighed, remembering that now he was in the sales business, he would have to be a lot more polite than usual.
"Yeah..." The niggling little voice in his mind dared him to ask a perfectly normal question, but if the answer had been a blatant 'yes', well, he wouldn't have liked the feeling that he knew he would experience. It was, after all, a 'cause and consequence' sort of situation. But Randall kept his queries to himself- this lot were his first set of customers, and it wouldn't do any good angering them now, would it? "Come through." He led the way, enjoying the sudden newly-painted smell that greeted his nostrils upon the entering of the other room, and added a few chairs to the largest chequered-cloth covered table they had to accompany the large number of monsters in his presence.
They took their time settling down, giving Randall the opportunity to grab his orders book and a pencil, and to also retrieve his apron, scolding himself for forgetting such an important detail. As he returned from behind the counter, his brow furrowed at a weird sort of sight, though it had, admittedly, been one he had expected.
Andy was having a stern talk with his friends, who all seemed to be temporarily paralysed, and with Randall's return, their shock grew worse.
"It's...it's HIM! He's actually HERE!" one managed to stutter- the words hadn't come easily. The rest of the group, not including Andy, that is, also started to babble erratically once again; seeing the lizard-monster for a second time had confirmed his existence, and that was, according to them, not a good thing.
"I guess you need a few more minutes to order, huh?" Randall began. In some ways, he had been looking forward to this, but it had been spoilt by two minor setbacks- one, that neither Sullivan nor Wazowski happened to actually be there, and two, that Andy was. "Um, I'll just be upstairs," he blurted out before going through the 'Staff Only' door and rushing up to their apartment.
The front door was open, and Randall stormed through it, catching Zephyr just closing the 'Accounts' book.
"Oh, hey Randall," she said, getting up from her desk. When she had had a proper look at him, putting the book of accounts back on a shelf for the time being, she smiled. "You shouldn't be panicking- I was about to come down with your coffee. God, you're desperate for that stuff sometimes! And I thought I couldn't live without my daily dose of caffeine...Randall...?" She stopped for a moment, observing her partner, who was now standing quite still with a hand covering half of his face. "Have we got any customers down there?" Zephyr carried on, though a lot quieter than before. A nod was enough of an answer. "Well why are you up here? We can't leave them on their own!" Now it was Zephyr's turn to sigh. "You've seen someone you know, right?" She put an arm comfortingly around Randall's shoulder, massaging his scales. "I told you that being so close to the company would be a problem, but you just didn't on, you need to be able to handle this."
"I know."
"Then get down there and handle it! What's the worse that could happen? What's-his-name...uhh...Wanooti or whatever, he isn't down there, is he?"
"Wazowski. No."
"So what's the problem?"
"Nothing." Randall grasped one of Zephyr's hands, taking a deep breath, and smiled. It was a horrible smile- clearly fake- but it was a smile, nevertheless. "I'm fine, just first-customer jitters, y'know? And I had better get down there- they've had enough time to make their minds up, though, by the sounds of it, they might've just lost their appetites." Randall's previous statement was practically confirmed as the continuous hyper jabbering from the floor underneath reached the two monster's ears. "Anyways, what are YOU doing up here? Chicken...?" he added playfully.
"No! I just...needed to sort out the account, that's all." Randall grinned- properly, this time.
"Hey, how about, when I believe you I will- and I guarantee this- eat the Accounts book? Ya like that? Cos it's never gonna happen!"
"I'll just start ripping up those pages into bite-size chunks for you, since I'm going downstairs."
"Oooh," Randall teased, creeping around Zephyr in pretend admiration, "I bow down to your bravery! Your example will teach all of us common mortals how a real god should behave!" Zephyr chuckled.
"Good, coz you need it!" The stairs were hungrily empty, and Randall waited for Zephyr to go down first.
"Well?" Zephyr gritted her teeth, grumbling, and rolled her eyes.
"Fine."
They went through the hallway, side by side, and opened the door to the café. The intriguing discussion that had been held just two moments ago abruptly ceased and the singing wind chimes hung up by a fan made the only noise in the room. Everyone there, other than Zephyr, (though she was very tempted to) looked around at Randall, and his third appearance seemed to settle any doubts.
"You're actually here!" a monster exclaimed- one that didn't know Randall personally, but knew of his little...adventure that had been re-enacted as the storyline for a certain company play. No-one else said anything, but their reactions varied greatly- Needleman and Smitty sat jittering in their seats after a quick yelp, Craigan, a monster that Randall had known during his time at Monsters, Inc., and who also happened to be an ex-Scarer, looked down at the table-cloth, innocently playing with his napkin, Ranft, well, drooled, Waxford really felt like rubbing his eyes, and Andy sat and stared in a demeaning sort of manner, arms folded and mouth the shape of an upside-down boomerang.
And Randall? Well, he put his apron on, got his order book out, growled, (that little voice in his mind was still there and still daring him) and put on the blankest expression his muscles would allow.
"So, boys. Ready to order?"
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"Hmm...okay. Well, your degrees and such look pretty good...your CV is impressive...I'm sure we'll be able to find a place for you around here somewhere. But I'd just like to ask a quick question- why, exactly, do you want to work here, rather than, say, the Monsters, Incorporated at Screamsville? And what makes you the perfect candidate?" Sullivan took off his reading spectacles, leaning back in his genuine leather chair and closing his applicant's CV folder.
"B-b-b-b-because it's...near...?"
"NEXT!"
"Mike!" exclaimed Sulley, surprised at his friend's sudden decision.
"Sul, he isn't good enough!" said the Cyclops, not bothering to keep his voice down. But what was done was done- Grace had popped her head around the door and had led the monster away, thanking him for coming and gently showing him the way to the exit.
The next applicant soon came in, and the same question was asked.
"Wow...that's...err...quite a question," he chuckled, pushing his overly-large glasses up a Pinocchio-sized nose. There was a quietness that the monster had never experienced before as he struggled to find the answer.
"NEXT!" The quietness soon disappeared, though.
Once, again, the same question was asked, first to a supposedly handsome monster with a big set of impossibly shiny teeth...
"Okay, my friends, I will tell you a story," he began dramatically. "I was crossing the road the other day, helping several elderly ladies as I went, carrying their shopping, what the hey- I carried them! Anyway, just as I was crossing the road, I saw this BEAUTIFUL building and BANG! I knew what I had to do. I will do my utmost best, as an honest and quite handsome citizen of this city, to help this company's cause, and, hey, if you're lucky, you might catch me at one of my autograph sessions in the Games Room!" Weird looks were passed from one side of the room to the other.
"NEXT!"
Then to a scientist with shocking pink hair...
"If you base the conclusion on the theory of probability, I have a sixteen to three chance of-"
"NEXT!"
Then to a teenage girl...
"Why do you hate me so much? Why does life HATE ME?!" (Sobbing followed.)
"Uhh...I'm sorry, but can we have the next applicant...? Like now...?" Mike swallowed and added in an undertone, "Maybe sometime before she floods the whole company...?"
After the last applicant had left, evening was beginning to draw in, and Mike went around Sulley's office, switching the lamps on and humming. Grace had just come in with another stack of paperwork, and Sulley had decided that he was to sacrifice this evening, dedicating it to the 'Brand New Safety Features' that some other company were offering concerning exploding canisters. Mike was annoyed at this- he had been many times before- but he was most certainly relentless. There was something about his not-accepting-no-for-an-answer attitude that was managing to wind Sulley up that particular chilly evening.
"I told you Sul, if you do this again I'm-"
"Not leaving the office, I know, I know."
"Sulley-"
"Mike, would you PLEASE just be quiet for a bit? I need to work! I've had a bad day today, and those applicants...well, they weren't exactly impressive, so if you want to be a good friend, just leave me in peace for a little while."
"Weren't exactly impressive?! Sul, they were RUBBISH! SCARILY RUBBISH! Half of 'em need to go to MENTAL HOSPITALS, and the OTHER half- I don't even WANT to talk about the OTHER HALF!"
"Mike..." Sulley whined, putting his pen down and giving his friend a very stern glare. It soon eased off, though Mike had finally gotten the idea.
"Fine fine fine, I'll go. You were never like this before though, Sul." He opened the door, realising how weak their relationship had become. "You've changed."
Three hours and a stack of paperwork later, Sulley had finished. He had gotten round to closing the curtains and was ready to go home, but a single piece of paper had caught his eye just as he was about to depart. His overcoat was on, his briefcase was packed and ready, but he was sure of a sleepless night if he didn't look at this final sheet. A horrible understanding washed over Sulley like a sea of sand- it got into his eyes and ears and mouth.
It was true what Mike had said; Sulley would never have worried about the one little bit of paper. As a matter of fact, he wouldn't have really worried about anything, before. But now, leaving this final bit of work behind, even thinking about leaving this final bit of work behind made him experience a very sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach, as though his lunch had come back to life and was growing in his tummy at a rapid rate.
Sulley dumped his briefcase down, dragging his tail back over to his desk. The paper felt rough to his fingers- rough and rigid. He unfolded it, and his eyes popped out of his head.
WErE coMiNG. THe ComPANy wIlL bE DeAD bEfoRE LoNG, LiKe YOu. bE ReaDY tO tAsTe thE FlaMEs.
It wasn't signed.
