Chapter 8. An Exercise in Futility

Author's Note: The latest chapter is up! This one is probably the "darkest" chapter yet, though I've still tried to keep it faithful to the show as much as possible. The usual disclaimers still apply; I don't own any of the characters, as they belong to "Cartoon Network". Please keep the reviews coming, y'all! I already pretty much know how this one will end, and depending on whether or not the readers are interested, am tentatively planning a sequel...sort of.

After splitting up in order to facilitate their search for the incriminating photo in question, Wilt and Frankie both discovered that the object of their search was more elusive than they'd ever imagined. Many Friends claimed to have SEEN the photo, but no one could offer any clues as to just who had it now, let alone who'd taken it and started its circulation in the first place. As one dead end led right to another dead end, their frustration and Wilt's anxiety that the photo, or at least word of its existence, would end up in Madame Foster's possession, began to increase considerably. Who would have every thought that a simple Polaroid photograph could prove to be such an elusive quarry? AND, finding IT was only half the battle; the real hunt would have to be for the individual who'd taken it and started all this mess, and finding out WHY he/she'd done it.

Mac arrived that Saturday around 2 o'clock, a bit earlier than usual, hoping that Bloo had gotten over his obsession with being some super-genius weapons developer and making lots of money from his so-called inventions. This was part of Bloo's nature; he would frequently and suddenly develop such obsessions with various things, which more often that not involved some means of attracting attention to himself, then just as quickly abandon those in favor of newer, and often more ridiculous, obsessions.

Upon entering the large mansion, Mac could not but to pick up on some rather unusual vibes, a certain tension, if you will, that was noticeable even to an eight-year-old. As he passed a throng of Imaginary Friends in the foyer, they seemed a bit less friendly, more agitated, many ignoring him completely, instead of speaking, which was rather unusual. Clearly, something was going on, something out of the ordinary, even for THIS place, to have generated such tension, and Mac was struck with a particularly nasty suspicion that it had something to do with a certain small blue creature. This served to hasten his search for his little blue pal, to find out what was going on. Mac was pretty sure that Bloo would deny any involvement, but that was fine, since most of the time Bloo would end up tattling on himself in one way or another. It was strange, thought the eight-year-old boy, how much Bloo at times reminded him of Mac's older brother, who also had a tendency to tell on himself with his "monologging" .

Mac figured that the best place to look for his Imaginary Friend would be in the room(or was that still a "secret lab"?)he shared with three others, so he climbed the stairs up to that floor and headed for Bloo's room. Before he could reach the door, however, it opened, and out stepped two of Bloo's roommates, the massive, purple-furred bullish Eduardo, and his even stranger companion, the bird-plant-plane crash creature, Coco. Spotting Mac, Eduardo nearly knocked the kid over in his enthusiasm to greet him.

"Hola, Mac! It is so good to see you again, mi amigo!" One would assume, upon hearing this greeting, that it had been weeks, or months even, since they had last seen each other, rather than the day before, but this sort of thing was to be expected of the burly purple-furred Friend.

"Oh, hi, Eduardo. Say, either of you guys seen Bloo? I dunno, but something seems to be going on around here, and I just wanna make sure it doesn't have anything to do with him, though I have a really bad feeling that it DOES!"

"Oh, Si! Something IS going on! Everyone is talking about the picture."

Mac frowned in confusion. "Picture? What sort of picture?" More and more, Mac was feeling that his gut instinct as to Bloo's involvement in whatever was going on was a reality after all.

Eduardo continued with his explanation. "Oh, there is a photograph that was taken here in the house sometimes last night, maybe, that is being passed around, and has everyone talking."

Mac paused for a moment, hoping that Eduardo would elaborate, but seeing that this wasn't getting anywhere, decided to prompt him further.

"Photograph? Why would everyone be so excited over a photograph? What was in it?"

"It was Wilt and Frankie…on the couch in the TV Room…at night…in the, uhm, dark." Eduardo seemed rather hesitant to be telling Mac this information, and began to twiddle his hooves together nervously, all the while failing to meet Mac's eyes. He continued, glancing around at the walls and floor in a manner than suggested he wished that they would speak for him, so he would have to. "They must have gone in there late last night, after everyone was asleep, and…and…"

"Co co Coco!" interjected Coco,

"Busy? What do you mean, "busy? Mac asked, genuinely puzzled.

Eduardo frowned at Coco, taking a defensive tone now. "They weren't BUSY; they were SLEEPING!"

"Wait…Wilt and Frankie? Sleeping? As in TOGETHER?"

"Si! Together…under a blanket on the couch! Just sleeping, like dos bambinos." Eduardo finished, nodding proudly that he'd successfully cleared this matter up once and for all, then, his smile quickly fading into doubt as he once more realized that perhaps it wasn't cleared up.

Mac pondered this bit of new information. What could possibly be the big deal with Wilt and Frankie sleeping on the sofa that would get the whole house into a tizzy? People fell asleep on sofas all the time. He'd certainly done it more times than he could count. Before he could ask, though, Eduardo inexplicably turned mind-reader and answered for him.

"Coco and I are going to find the picture and get rid of it before Mr. Herriman finds it and shows it to Madame Foster. Mr. Herriman has rules against us Imaginary Friends…you know, uhm…uhm,.." he was at a loss for the right words at this point, so Coco took it upon herself to help out.

"Coco CoCO co coco co co co!"

"Gracias, Coco! Si, Mr. Herriman has rules against us 'messing around with people who work here'. Senor Wilt can get in mucho trouble if Mr. Herriman sees that picture! They might even kick him out, and that would be very sad! Wilt is my bestest amigo, and I don't want him to get kicked out! That is why we must find this photograph and tear it up into teeny, tiny little bits, no?"

This was making no sense at all to Mac. First, he never even knew that Wilt and Frankie would "mess around", as Eduardo had put it. He'd never noticed that they were anything other than friends. Even if that WEREN'T the case, though, it didn't seem like anyone else's business but theirs, so it would have to be a really mean and spiteful person to sneak up on them while they were sleeping and take a picture, then circulate the picture around the house. This was ESPECIALLY the case if what Eduardo said about the rules were true, and Wilt could really get kicked out of Foster's if that photo ended up in either Mr. Herriman's or Madame Foster's hands. Why would someone want to get Wilt kicked out, of all the Imaginary Friends in the entire household? It was difficult to fathom how ANYONE could have it in for Wilt, or Frankie, for that matter, since she could possibly lose her job over something ridiculous like this.

"You're right; we do need to find that photo. I don't want Wilt OR Frankie to get in trouble, either. But first, I need to find Bloo. Maybe he knows where this photograph is, or who took it. You guys haven't seen him, have you?"

"Co co co co co CoCo co", replied Coco, pointing with one of her feet in the direction of the TV Room, down the hall.

"Thanks, Coco! I'll let you guys know if I find out anything about that photograph. I hope one of us can find it before Mr. Herriman or Madame Foster does!" With that, the eight-year-old turned and headed at a fast walk down the hallway towards the TV Room, where he hoped he might at least find Bloo.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Coco had turned out to be correct, and Mac soon caught up with the object of HIS original search, on the sofa, leaning back watching some nature program on spiders and wearing an extremely bored expression on his blue face.

"'Bout time you got here! I thought I was gonna die of boredom watching this show on styoopid spiders! Don't these people have anything better to do than watch some styoopid ole' spider build a web? I mean, come ON…"

Bloo's creator interrupted his critique of nature programming and the intellectual capacities of arachnids to call Bloo's attention to a more urgent matter. "Bloo, we need your help, Eduardo and Coco and me. Somebody took a photograph of Wilt and Frankie asleep on a sofa and now it's being passed around through the house to make it look like were…you know, 'messing around', like, you know…with each other. Which I'm SURE they WEREN'T, but we need…"

"Yeah, I know. I took it." Bloo stated nonchalantly, with a wave of a hand that indicated this was all old news to him and not worth listening to again.

"…find it and…Wait, you WHAT? Did I just hear you say that YOU took the photograph?" At least seven different and distinct expressions of disbelief tried to pile up on Mac's face at once upon hearing this news clip.

"Yep. It was me. Took the incriminating piece of evidence right here in THIS room, on THIS very sofa, as a – mat-TER – of – FACT!" Bloo seemed to brush a few crumbs off the arm of the sofa, looking more smug than any living being had any right to.

Mac was stunned. He knew that his Imaginary Friend could be a bit spiteful at times, but THIS was going too far, even for him. "…Where I'm SURE they really DID just fall asleep watching television! But WHY, Bloo? Why would you wanna do something like that and them pass the picture around so everyone could see it? I just don't get it!"

"Don't 'get it', huh? What's so hard to 'get'? Frankie acts like SHE owns the place, sometimes, instead of her grandmother…always getting in MY business! And Wilt…everyone thinks he is just Sooooooo perfect, always getting "Friend of the Month', always helping out all the time, while it turns out that Mr. Perfect is just a back-stabbing traitor! Now, everyone can see that those two aren't as wonderful and perfect as everyone thought they were!" Bloo crossed his arms in front of him, glowering at his creator, then shifted his gaze back to the tv, apparently finding the spiders more appealing after all.

"I cannot believe you'd do something like this just to get even with Frankie for making you give back all those things you'd taken, or with Wilt for telling HER than his cleaning bucket was missing! This is LOW, Bloo, really, really LOW! This sounds more like something TERRENCE would do!"

Bloo winced. That last comment stung. If there was any being on the face of the planet he'd rather NOT be compared to, it was Mac's older brother, Terrence. He turned to face his creator once more.

"Mac…I am deeply HURT that you would even think that about me!" The whiny tone began to creep into his voice, replacing the arrogant one he'd used just second before. "Besides, I don't see what the big hairy deal is! Sure, it will tarnish certain people's reputations a little bit, but sometimes certain people NEED to get taken down from their little pedestals every now and then. After a few weeks, everyone will forget about the whole thing!"

"Not if that photo ends up with Mr. Herriman or Madame Foster seeing it, they won't! Bloo, don't you realize that if they see it and think that Wilt is fooling around with Madame Foster's GRANDDAUGHTER, that he can be kicked out of Foster's, for good? Is THAT what you want to happen?"

Bloo snorted with disdain at this question. Honestly, the boy could be so dense sometimes! "Of course not! Why would I want THAT to happen? Anyway, Mr. H. and Madame F. are both so old that even if they DID see the picture, they probably WOULD just think that Wilt and Frankie just innocently fell asleep watching tv!"

"Which I'm sure they DID! Even if that wasn't the case…which I'm sure it IS, it's still nobody's business but THEIRS! And I still can't believe you'd stoop this low just to make someone else look bad!"

" It's not so much about making others look BAD; it's about making ME look more good…or something like that. All I wanted was to design and sell my technology and get rich, 'cause everyone loves RICH people! I just wanted for everyone to love ME, instead of going crazy over some Goody Two-Socks all the time! Is that so wrong?"

Mac shook his head, not sure whether to feel angry or sad for his Imaginary Friend. "Yeah, Bloo, it IS so wrong. It's wrong to think you can make yourself look better just by making someone else look bad! Didn't you learn ANYTHING from 'The Incredibles'? The reason that Syndrome was defeated was because he tried to be something he wasn't, and he thought that he had to hurt others just to make people like HIM. He could have used his own talents to do good things and become famous and popular that way, but instead he used them to hurt people. It's like what my second-grade teacher used to say, 'it's better to be hated for what you are, than to be liked for something you're NOT!'" Mac paused a moment, then continued, "So, where is this photograph, anyway?"

Bloo's attention was back on the tv, his face trying very hard not to betray any emotion. He shrugged. "Yeah, I learned why you should never wear a CAPE! Anyway, how should I know where it is? Last time I saw it was around seven this morning. I'm sure it'll turn up, somewhere…"

"Well, you better help find it, before it 'turns up' in Mr. Herriman's office! You started this whole mess, now it's up to you to help fix it. And, once you find that photo and destroy it, you're gonna apologize to Wilt and Frankie for putting them through all this, got it?"

Bloo sighed, slouching back against the arm of the sofa, trying to feign indifference. "Yeah, yeah, OK…just keep your shirt on! I'll help find it in just a minute!"

Mac simply shook his head, and turned and walked out, leaving Bloo alone on the sofa, wondering if Bloo really did intend to help find that photo, or if he was even capable of caring for anyone else anymore.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Slumped down in the corner between the arm and back of the sofa, Bloo tried to concentrate on the spider program, miffed at what Mac had just chewed him out about. WHY did things always have to end up this way? It wasn't HIS fault. What was so bad about wanting everyone to like HIM, or being rich? Rich people had it made, they really, really did. Bet Donald Trump never had to put up with this sort of nagging. He'd find the photograph, and hopefully Mac wouldn't go run his mouth about who took it, but right now, the spider show was getting sorta interesting…for a show on spiders. Who knew those little suckers could hear with their LEGS, for crying out loud? Learn something new every day…Bloo yawned. He really had not had enough sleep, what with not being able to get a decent night's rest the night before, and having gotten up much earlier than usual. Gotta help find that photograph…don't see what the big deal is, though. Nobody'll get punished. Spider silk is hundreds of times stronger than steel…wow. Yawn…gotta tell Mac that one…bet even he doesn't know that…I don't act like Terrence…Terrence is a styoopid-head….not….like…me…

…spiders….spitting venom…gotta…find…

…photograph…later...

Rather abruptly, the tv program on spiders changed scenes. Suddenly, instead of close-up shots of eight-legged, silk-spinning venomous carnivores, the scene switched to a grimy city street, obviously in the grip of a terrible winter storm. Blinding snow filled the screen, blown horizontal by fierce winds howling down the nearly-abandoned streets. It was so realistic, that Bloo could have sworn that the temperature in the room dropped by at least 15 degrees! Now, THAT was weird, he thought. Maybe I accidentally hit the channel button on the remote or something. Glancing around on the sofa for the remote so he could change it back to the spider show instead of this dismal and cold scene, Bloo was shocked to discover than he was no longer on the sofa. He was, as unbelievable as it seemed, sitting on a concrete bench, on a sidewalk, on that same frigid city street he'd been watching on tv just moments before. Well, guess that explains why it got so cold in here all of a sudden, doesn't it?

Bloo stood up from his rather uncomfortable hard seat, surveying the scene around him with increasing bewilderment and growing alarm. How'd he get HERE, of all places? Where, exactly, WAS "here", besides somewhere really, really cold? A car passed by slowly on the street behind him, snow chains clanking against the ice-slick pavement. Bloo hugged his arms to himself, trying to keep warm. You'd think that whoever dumped me HERE could have at LEAST made sure I had a COAT! Well, obviously, standing here on a wind-swept street corner freezing was not an idea way to spend an afternoon, so Bloo decided that his first priority was to get inside, inside somewhere WARM. He would have to work out just where he was, and how he'd gotten there, after he thawed out. Hey, at least this gets me outa having to look for that dumb photograph.

Moving down the sidewalk, rubbing his increasingly-numb arms, Bloo could not help but notice just how desolate this place was; the only other sign of life had been the long-gone car with the floppy snow chains. Where was everyone else? Must be this bad weather, keeping everyone inside, which is where I need to be…Passing an alleyway set at a right angle to the sidewalk on which he was traveling, Bloo caught a movement out the corner of one eye, and turned to look, hoping it would be someone would could at least direct him to the nearest warm, dry building, preferably one with a wide-screen tv. What he saw was a slightly-built human figure, which appeared to be climbing backwards down from a dumpster.

"Hey, you!" he called out to the figure. The person landed somewhat awkwardly on the slippery crumbling asphalt in front of the dumpster, clutching something against his, or her, chest. Not getting any response, Bloo started to walk towards the person, waving his hand in the air to attract their attention. "Hey, I need to know where I can…" Bloo's demand was cut short by the individual turning to face him. It was a woman, wearing a tattered, dirty old coat; he could see that now. She was holding what appeared to be several pieces of rotting meat and molding French bread clutched against her, as though she held something precious. It was her face, though, that rendered Bloo speechless. It was gaunt and pale, with deep, dark bags under the hollow eyes, eyes that were filled with such sorrow and fear. A few wisps of red hair straggled out from under a filthy head wrap, blown about by the wind. If I didn't know better, I would almost swear that looked like Fr….no, it can't be…can it?

"Fr…Frankie?" Bloo hesitantly asked of the woman, knowing that this pitiful, starving street person could not POSSIBLY be Frankie, not the Frankie HE knew, anyway.

Upon hearing that name, the fear in the woman's eyes increased, and she seemed to shake her head, though whether in doubt or denial, Bloo could not tell. Before he had a chance to say anything else, she turned and ran deeper down into the gloom of the alley, quickly disappearing from sight.

Bloo stood for a moment, staring after her. No, it couldn't have been Frankie; why would Frankie be eating garbage from a dumpster when she has a nice warm home where she can eat decent food? Still, the mystery homeless woman seemed to be the only other living being around besides himself, and Bloo was becoming more and more desperate to find shelter before he ended up freezing. Seeing no other recourse, he decided to follow the homeless woman with the red hair and haunting eyes down the gloomy alleyway. Maybe she at least knew of a homeless shelter or something where he could get warm until Mac came to find him.

It did not take long, though, for Bloo to realize that this might have been a mistake. Although the wind and the driving snow were not as bad back here in the canyon between buildings, the cold was much worse. Shivering, teeth chattering, Bloo HAD to find somewhere warm, and FAST, or he knew he would not be long for this world, or any other. There was no sign of the homeless woman, so he assumed that she had found some way out of the alleyway and gotten to a warmer spot. Bloo debated whether to continue further down into the darkness of the alley, or to turn back and head in the way he'd just came, back towards the sidewalk and the snowy streets, when something else caught his eye. Not a movement this time, but a color, a splash of red and bright blue that seemed out of place in this gloom. His curiosity momentarily overcoming his instincts for survival, Bloo walked towards the patch of red. As he got closer, and his eyes adjusted more and more to the darkness, he was nearly overcome with relief to see a familiar figure, sitting propped up against the wall of one of the buildings. Apparently, he was not the only Foster's resident who'd ended up on these frozen streets.

"Wilt! Am I ever glad to see YOU, buddy! What's goin' on, and how did we end up…" As he approached his friend, Bloo began to get an extremely unpleasant feeling that something was very, very wrong here. Wilt had not acknowledged his presence at all, not even to turn and look at him. He had, in fact, not moved a muscle. Something is definitely not right here…Bloo could now see that Wilt had something hanging around his neck, and upon closer inspection, saw that it was a sheet of cardboard, with a hand-written sign.

Was Thrown Out of Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends

Will Apologize For Food

"What the HECK are you doin' wearing THAT thing? Whatya mean 'was thrown out of Foster's'? You know they wouldn't throw YOU out! Now come on and quite fooling around; we need to get inside where it's warm and…Wilt, you OK, there, buddy?"

Throughout Bloo's whole discourse, Wilt had still not moved an inch, but continued to just sit and stare off into the distance, not bothering to so much as glance at Bloo. This was, of course, worrying Bloo quite a bit, as it was very unlike Wilt to be so disrespectful and ignore someone who was talking to him.

"Uhm, Wilt? You OK? You seem a little…quiet. I hope you're not still mad about that photograph, are you? I really didn't mean for it to cause so much trouble, seriously. Now, come on and let's try to get inside somewhere, maybe talk it over like friends…I mean, we ARE still friends, right, buddy? Wilt…?"

Almost hesitantly, Bloo slowly reached out to prod Wilt's shoulder, hoping maybe that he was just sleeping. Yeah, that's it…sleeping…with his eyes open. His hand, though, touched not a warm, vibrant living being, but icy-cold, and ice-hard, frozen, lifeless…

NO.

This CANNOT be real! This can't be…HE can't be…