You don't know what it's been like...
The 22-year-old Frances "Frankie" Foster lurched as she strode across the seemingly infinite halls of Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends. Exhausted by incredibly taxing recent events; as well as dulled by the endless hardship of her profession, she'd temporarily lost her grip on time and sense. She fumbled inside her brain, dizzyly wondering what time it was--when she could've simply raised her right arm and glance at the electronic watch. But she was out of it at the moment... so out of it that she thought the passive grip on her wrist was instead a leash dragging her into a most undesirable destination.
Ironically, also the only thing preventing her from accidentaly walking off a second-story window.
When the girl at last reached that destination--a sternly elegant office suite--she nary had time to speak when she felt a thick roar awash her eardrums.
"MISS FRANCES! EVEN MORE LATE THAN USUAL!"
"Herriman..." she whined--not even three seconds this time around. "I've been busy with the influx friends all day, can't--"
"NO EXCUSES, YOUNG MA'AM!" the hare roared. "Now sit down and we'll discuss current matters."
Frankie did as such--instantly afterwards, however, she directed a dirty glare towards Herriman. "'Current matters?' The only thing that "matters" right now is that we find owners for all these friends sooner instead of later; I'm leaving the entire place vulnerable by abandoning them like I did to come here..." she sighed. "Look, what do you want?"
"How about what I don't want: SLOPPINESS AND NEGLIGENCE!"
The redhead grimaced. "What are you talking--"
"NUH-UH!" Herriman interjected. "You talk about how the house is prone by leaving them unguarded? Perhaps I shouldn't have called for your presence here, because quite frankly, the entire place is uninspired as it is!"
Any desire Frankie had to fend herself vanished when the hare shot from his chair and broke into a full-blown rant.
"DUST SPOTS AND UNWIPED STAINS EVERYWHERE! INSECTS CRAWLING AROUND THE BARE FOUNDATIONS! WOEFULLY SHORT ON FOOD..."
Frankie just sank in her chair, letting the hoarse voice grow wishy-washy of contemptful familiarity. Her fingers drummed aimlessly against the chair's carved handles as she locked eyes with Mr. Herriman's bloodshot eyes; the monocle did nothing to filter it's razor-sharp sparkle... the scream session lasted a good ninety seconds in real time--and simply "too long" in her altered state of consiousness.
"And what do you have to say for yourself?" he said at last.
"Huh... what? I--"
"UNATTENTIVE AS WELL!" the rabbit spat. "You didn't pay attention to a word I just said, did you?"
"Well, I know you're angry at me again." she said. "I don't need to be fully aware to your fanciful blathering to know--"
And she felt her own left arm soar across her cheeks. Oh fuck fuck fuck FUCK!
Frankie flinched into her seat when Herriman opened his mouth and wagged a furious finger at the lady... but instead of more screaming, the hare simply collected himself and waltzed around the desk, halting right in front of the chair in which the miniscule caretaker sat.
"Turn around, Miss Frances." he said in a frightening low tone, noticing that Frankie didn't change the direction of her eyes. "Look at me, right in the eye."
She did just that--and felt Herriman's furry paw curl around her throat, clenching her as hard as possible without choking and pulling her just inches away from the rabbit. With his other paw, he removed the monocle and placed it in his tuxedo's pocket.
"The only reason you're here is because you're the last remaining relative of my creator, Martha Arliss Ridgeworth Foster." he began. "I assure you, if she weren't still alive or you weren't her granddaughter but instead some grossly incompetent brat whose cultural preferences involve too much "punk rock" and too little actual integrity, I'd be going harsher on you than my reprimanding... much, much worse."
Herriman's grip on the young woman loosened, but his demeanor remained harsh.
"So suck it up, 'Frankie'" he sneered. "You know very well this is the only job you can hold on to... even if you aren't very good at it."
The rabbit let go completely, slowly marching back into his previous position behind the desk. He zoomed in on the lady; her eyes were shut and her features started shrivelling... and cristal tears rolled down the ripples where her formerly-sparkling eyes used to be.
"Herriman... I'm trying." she said. "I can't be everywhere at once--I'm sorry about the house's condition, but they have me strapped more than you know." the woman inhaled deeply and withdrew back some confidence. "Look, just let me deal with some of the more troublesome friends, and I'll get around to those chores. Ok?"
The rabbit scowled. "Troublesome friends?"
Frankie was about to speak when the answer arrived in a different way entirely--loud rock music came roaring from the hallway, seeping into the office.
Herriman was about to speak when he saw both of the lady's fists tighten and her teeth grit.
- - -
The ape-like being with multicolored fur let his huge index race across the stack of CDs. The Clash, Ramones, Joy Division, Sex Pistols, Nirvana, The Offspring... he smirked; time to have some fun.
He darted back towards the computer's speakers, which blared Green Day's hugely popular new record at maximum volume. He hopped onto the bed, grabbed the two remotes sprawled on it's blankets and gloriously pounded against the invisible drumkit. "DON'T WANT TO BE AN AMERICAN IDIO--"
"KAROSHI!"
The creature instantly spun around towards the voice's direction; a certain redhead stood at the entrance, her fiery eyes bristling. Without any further words, she stomped inside and yanked the computer cords from the power socket, abruptly ending his musical fantasies.
She wagged her finger at the ape furiously. "You. Out. NOW."
"Awww, Franklin--"
"FRANKIE!"
Karoshi didn't wince but grin. "But you have such great taste in music! It's certainly better than that stalk-eyed creep and his boring-ass Coldhead and Radioplay--"
"OUUUUUUUUUT!"
And she lunged into the bed with great furor; however, when she landed, her nails sank not into his fur but the strewn-around blankets. Her eyes quickly turned the other way--Karoshi leapt cleanly over her.
"Nice try, Vicky." he laughed.
"Vic-- what the fuck..." Frankie fumed as she rose back from the bed. "Get out or you're going to regret it--"
"Really? What are you going to do to me?"
Frankie took a closer look and grimaced. The ape stood right next to her private drawer, which was already pulled open--and his paw was fiddling with it's contents.
"Oh, looky looky!" he pulled out a handful of small pink panties. "What again, Francisco? Steal my underwear?"
The woman made another lunge after the troublemaker, and missed again, this time almost disastrously; her chest crashed against the drawer's edge and her forehead smacked against the wooden top.
"Sorry, gotta run--or I'll be well done!" were Karoshi's last words before bobbling out of the room in maniacal laughter.
Frankie had little time to straighten herself out when Mr. Herriman walked into the room, equally puzzled. "Miss Frances, what is the meaning of this--!"
The redhead just growled and extended her left arm. "Leash, NOW."
- - -
"Was that Frankie screaming?"
"I know those records of her's were playing loudly moments ago; from her room's direction too."
"Rock girl or not, I know she's far more responsible than that. Perhaps--"
"Well--oh no..."
The chatter between the two friends walking across one of the many second-floor hallways--a scrawny street rabbit and a green eel--was disturbed when a huge furry critter leapt in front of them, doing a goofy jig. The other two just glared at the troublemaker quizzically.
"Karoshi!" the rabbit exclaimed. "Aren't you supposed to be back at the basement?"
"Hiya guys, may I take your order?" he said with a toothy grin.
The eel's eyes did a vertical one-eighty. "Hi, just do us a favor and get the hell out of the way. And stop those stupid jokes, they were never--" but before he could finish, he was prodded by the rabbit.
"Uhhhh, Savin..." he said nervously, pointing at Karoshi's head.
"What is--oh my god."
The two saw pink undergarments stretched and wrapped tightly around the ape's neck. But the worst was yet to come: Karoshi ripped off one of them, wrapped it around his nose and took a hearty whiff that lasted a few seconds, followed by a pervertedly satisfied shudder.
They both gawked.
The ape noted both of their looks and whistled innocently. "Whaaaaaaaat...?"
"Karoshi..." the eel choked. "Jesus Hebrew Christ on a Segway, don't tell me--"
The rabbit's eyes bulged into the size of dinner plates. "Frankie's... panties..."
Karoshi nodded as he proudly twirled the undergarments. "They're clean, don't worry--" he glanced excitedly over Savin and the rabbit. "ANGRY CUTIE AT THREE O'CLOCK!"
And the other two had no time to react: they each felt an arm connect thunderously with their frames, sending them flying into the hall's sides with a thud. Standing where they once were was now a very pissed-off redhead, only a few feet away from the ape--and brandishing a very thick leather leash.
"This is your last chance, Karoshi." she snarled as she slowly uncurled the leash on the floor. "Come willingly or I will use force!"
The ape took up a deep faux accent. "The force is strong with you, Frankie Skywalker--but I am not yours yet."
"Fine then--"
Frankie didn't do as much lift a finger when the ape somersaulted backwards, missing the leash's reach by a wide margin. He continued the routine, becoming a distant speck in the lady's increasingly grizzled eyes.
The eel chuckled. "I have to admit, that one--"
"Shut up." was Frankie's response before sprinting off into the troublemaker's direction.
The two friends looked on with stunned awe as the redhead vanished from sight.
"Yeesh..." the rabbit said. "'Shut up'? Was that the same kind, accomodating lady I met when I first arrived?"
Savin groaned unhappily. "I take it you weren't paying much attention when Goofball was here, eh?"
- - -
Fortunately, the ape reached(Or rather jumped atop) the central staircase of Foster's very quickly. Unfortunately--more passerby friends awaited.
"Hiya, Karoshi." one of them, a blue blob of small stature but big burden, spoke with a smirk. "What's all this fuss... whose CD collection did you raid now?" he slyly motioned towards another of the beings; a tall, springy-eyed fellow whose once-peaceful face carried shades of contempt.
"Frankie's, I bet." he said. "I could've sworn Green Day was blaring from up above."
"Green Day!" the blob scoffed. "So Bendy was right after all, she is a wannabe!"
"I'd like to continue with this chatter," Karoshi interjected. "But I'm currently busy with another matter!"
Before the two friends could react, he leapt impressively over them, landing at the very tip of the staircase's handle with the grace of an ice skater. Just in time too; they all turned around and saw a twitching Frankie right behind them.
"Hi Frankie, are things going..." the tall being began smiling--and wilted when he saw the disgust in the lady's face. "...not fine?"
Frankie's angry face contorted into one of sadistic satisfaction. "Not to worry, Wilt; this ends NOW!"
And with that, she swung the leash with all the ferocity she could muster, almost connecting with the blob and stalk-eyes--but instead reaching it's intended target; wrapping itself tightly across the ape's body.
"I HAVE YOU NOW!" she roared triumphantly--followed by a half-scowl. Great, now I'm doing it.
The two bystanders turned back towards Karoshi, expecting him to panic and thinking his luck ran out... instead, they saw his beefy legs spread up, sitting right on top of the handle--and slowly descending.
"Sorry!" the ape said with a smile as he slid down, still bound to the ropes.
Before she knew it, Frankie's body was knocked and dragged down the flight of stairs.
Just flipping great.
- - -
KNOCK. KNOCK. UMPPPH. THUD.
"Uhhhhhh..."
Frankie slowly opened her eyes; and gazed absently into the foundation of the floor she was sprawled around... she hoisted herself up with one hand, and rubbing her throbbing forehead with the other. She sat on the floor for a few seconds, groaning. I'm still alive, thank god...
Upon removing the hand from her face, the first thing she saw was a wishy-washy blur of colors with a wide smile.
"Ahhhhh yes, alive!" he proclaimed. "So there will indeed be a Indiana Frankie IV!"
The lady's first reaction: an absent groan. Indiana Frankie?
The lady's second reaction: a lightning bearhug tackle across the creature's huge frame onto the floor, not lovingly but angrily.
The house's spacious floor hall soon abuzzed with the presence of both imaginary friends and human customers waiting to be attended, but they both gawked at what unfolded before them: the pissed-off caretaker in emerald coat sprawled all over the huge ape, wrangling him with a messy leather leash, growling viciously and jabbing him multiple times... when it was over, Frankie was up and victorious, clutching the back of the creature's neck with one hand and tugging at the ropes with the other.
"THAT'S IT!" she snarled as she headed back up the stairs. "Screw the basement, you're going to have a nice chat with Mr. Herriman THIS INSTANT!"
"Fra--" was what all Karoshi managed before feeling a stiff knuckle soar across his cheeks.
"NOT ANOTHER WORD!" Frankie roared, now prompting her to yank on the ape's neck.
Halfway up the stairs they ran into a gaggle of imaginary fellows waiting at the top. Wilt, who witnessed the harsh behavior, approached the young lady dismayedly. "Frankie, no offense, but this might be a little excessive--".
"Oh, shut up and help me." she cut him off. "Frickin' jerk knocked me down the--"
And she herself was then cut off by the muddy yet audible and suspiciously recognizable vocals of an african-american couple singing about "humps" and "lumps".
The hell... Frankie scowled. "Okay, whose idea was it to play Top 40 radio on the main hall?"
Most of the nearby friends just giggled ominously. Bloo in particular had poorly-hidden hints of a smirk in his face, and Wilt's already-crimson frame went even more red.
"Uhhh, ummmm, I don't think that's coming from any radio."
Bloo just leant against the handle with evil satisfaction. "Frankie, I didn't know the Black Eyed Peas were punk rock."
"Of course not-- what are you talking-- ok, what's going on--" she tried to speak, but was interrupted by Karoshi's paw tapping against her jacket sleeve, which was buzzing.
Frankie stared menacingly towards the ape and opened her mouth to speak--and then it came dawning on her in the worst way possible.
Her cellphone.
The lady reached into her jacket and swiftly yanked it out from one of the pockets--and instantly, the previous muddiness vanished and the song(Now in it's infamous chorus) rang full-throttle, filling the entire room. The witnesses, who were just about to leave after seeing the rough scuffle between the fiery lady and the ape, now looked on with more glee than pity.
Frankie's face quivered uncontrollably.
"Oh no, no, no, no, no no no no..."
She backed away from Karoshi and slowly set down the stairs, her horrified eyes glued to the cellphone and the rest of her face contorting uncontrollably. Please no, please PLEASE NO...
When she reached the floor level, she sprung it open and quickly tapped the "send" button, and to her relief the ringtone would finally cease.
She pressed it against her face. "H-hello?"
Frankie? This is Ashley here, said a teenage girl's voice--out loud; everybody nearby heard her. I've been thinking and--
"I'm in the middle of something, CALL BACK LATER." Frankie hissed.
Ashley groaned. Just what I expected you to say. But, look--
"GOD, LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!"
I was going to apologize about my remarks last Tuesday--BUT FINE! YOU GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY LIFE! And you know what? My friends are right, you ARE a hopelessly paranoid and crybaby loser with no life, no real job and no future! How can you call yourself a "punk girl" if you're slaving away at that stupid madhouse for make-believe beings? Try getting laid for once--and no, that wonderful imaginary version of Brad Pitt doesn't count.
"Ash--" she tried to speak, but the girl hung up.
A painful silence etched the next few seconds. From every imaginable direction, there were pairs of eyes looking down upon the embarassing scenery. Some were still trying to stifle giggles, others now laughed outright--and hardly anybody appeared to be sympathetic at what they just saw.
She turned slowly towards the friends at the second floor, pointing a lame finger. "Who... who changed my--"
"MISS FRANCES!"
They had no time to answer, as out of their crowd popped a very annoyed-looking Mr. Herriman. He glanced over the surroundings, frowned at the large gathering below him and directed his attention to the woman.
"Oh dear." the rabbit gasped. "What could be the meaning of this...?"
Frankie's face went blank. "Herriman, I..."
But she soon stopped when she saw another figure ascend from the second-floor crowd, halting right next to the rabbit: Madame Martha Foster--and she didn't look very pleased at all.
"IN THE NAME OF FOSTER'S!" she was horrified. "All this racket, all this noise, all these people currently in the room; all the screaming and the swear words..."
"Grandma--"
Madame Foster growled and then motioned harshly towards her granddaughter. "Explain this now."
"I--" Frankie choked. "I was in Herriman's office-- one of the imaginary friends raided my room all of a sudden, I found out-- I chased him all across the house, I--"
She glanced halfway across the staircase, and saw that Karoshi was still huddled against the railing... who shot her a brief venomous smirk before suddenly sprinting to the top and clutching onto the house's founder like a confused child.
"OH MADAME FOSTER, HELP ME!" he bawled. "That caretaker lady of yours, SHE WAS TRYING TO HURT ME!"
"Hurt you?" the elderly's face bristled. "That "caretaker lady" happens to be my granddaughter--and she tried to hurt one of my own?"
"Grandma, I--"
"IT WAS AWFUL!" Karoshi laid his huge head on Mme. Foster's shoulder and wept. "I admit it, I did invade her room and cause some trouble; it was wrong and I deserve punishment for it, BUT I JUST WANTED TO HAVE SOME HARMLESS FUN! But your granddaughter thought differently. Madame..." he paused tensely. "She punched me... right in the face."
Mme. Foster's eyes blew open. "WHAT?"
Karoshi cocked his head sideways, revealing the omnipresent throb on his furry cheek. "It's true..." he sobbed. "Not only did she assault me, she did so in front of not only the fellow friends--but your customers as well."
The old lady glanced around the ape's huge frame, and saw that the crowd below had many would-be adopters who were previously waiting in the reception hall, now attentive to the scenery in the central staircase. She returned to Karoshi, affectionately rubbing his face..
"Oh there there..." she cooed him. "Get this dreadful leash off your body and head back to your bedroom, I'll deal with this jerk myself."
"Yes, sweet Madame... I promise I'll stay put!" said Karoshi with faux piteousness, which the elder returned with a smile. He stumbled up the staircase and across the gathering of friends into one of the many second-floor halls, disappearing from eyeshot.
Frankie winced. What the... huh!
She timidly approached her grandmother with a pallid face--which went as crimson as her hair when the old lady suddenly let her right arm fly across the caretaker's face.
"Wha..." the young Foster tried to speak. "Grandma--"
"AND YOU, FRANCES JEANNE-HEMINGWAY FOSTER, SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF!"
The howl echoed across not only the floor area, but into nearly every single corner of the vast victorian house. Frankie backed away from her angry grandmother and spun to the outside area--right into the human bystanders, who were whispering and snickering and even hooting excitedly. She spun back towards the staircase... and right afterwards, she tripped and landed on her rear end. The caretaker's dismayed yelp sank in the influx of laughs and unsavory remarks.
Perfect too; she was now on the same height as Mme. Foster... who walked right up to her granddaughter with her fists tightened.
"How dare you... HOW DARE YOU." she cried out. "This is an adoption home, not jail! What gave you the right to treat a poor ape with such disrespect and cruelty!"
Frankie sprang back up, her face a hideous mix of contempt and sorrow. "What gave me the right?" she hissed. "That bastard nearly killed me--"
"BASTARD!" the elder Foster fumed. "Why, how polite, now resorting to insults--"
"HE KNOCKED ME DOWN THE FLIGHT OF STAIRS, GOD-FUCKING-DAMMIT!"
And right afterwards, Frankie's hands sprang into her mouth--simultaneously as her scream rang across both her eardrums and the mansion.
Too little, too late.
Mme. Foster turned around and took a few puffy steps across the staircase. She soon halted and slowly craned her head towards Frankie, faking a smile.
"Perhaps." she said. "But with that attitude and guttermouth of yours--I think you deserved it."
"Deserved it?" Frankie recoiled as she went up the stairs as well. "B-b-b-b-but--"
"'B-b-b-b-b-but!' 'B-B-B-B-BUT!'" she sneered. "...my butt."
"Grandma--"
Before she could finish, the old lady turned on a dime and--for the second time, slapped her granddaughter squarely across the face, drawing even more oooooh's from the spectator-like crowd.
"DON'T 'GRANDMA' ME, YOU GROSSLY INCOMPETENT BRAT!"
Frankie raised a finger to speak, but she was shot down by Mme. Foster's continued howls.
"You want to cause all this drama and attract such a large crowd?" she spat. "Alright, I'll play fair and scold you, in front of what you created--and see how YOU like it."
The twenty-two-year barely uttered a word before being cut off again.
"This isn't just about the poor ape either. I'm serious, YOU MAKE ME SICK TO THE STOMACH!" she screeched. "As of late, I've seen that you've been acting very nasty as of late, in front of not only your friends but my clients as well. Tell me, 'Frankie'... is this really the kind of image that needs to be festered upon my decades of hard work and determination?"
She quickly shook her head. "But--"
"Oh, but let me guess: John Goofball McGee. So that's the reason for your newfound attitude problem? Still angry about him, eh? Still bitter that you had to miss that concert? Well then, SUCK IT UP! Sure, he was misbehaving and a bit of a moocher, but that gave you no right to try and wrongfully "expose" him--NOR DOES IT GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TO DENY ANY OF MY IMAGINARY FRIENDS!"
"Gr--"
"Your behavior epitomizes everything that's horribly wrong with our world's current culture--what this house stands against. I used to not mind that you were into that dreadful garbage you call "punk rock", since I thought you were a responsible girl who knew the difference between right and wrong, but now it seems to be poisoning your mind. But go ahead. Go crawl back to your room and weep listening to the Sex Pistols; I'm sure that wonderful Johnny Rotten lad and his sleazy, anti-establishment ramblings will make you feel better... but god save YOUR ASS if I catch you acting like that again!"
"Wha--"
"On second thought, forget about your hideous taste in music; because YOU'RE GROUNDED!"
Frankie's tone deflated into a high-pitched husk. "...g-grounded?"
"Oh yes indeed. All your possessions; your computer, your videotape recorder, your CD collection, everything--gone for a month. Mr. Herriman is to go to your room and take out those things effective immediately! Not only that, but you are banned from leaving the house under your own terms; and you will be forbidden to engage in any group activities unless I give permission. You better get used to the mop, missy, because you're going to be using it a lot more for the next thirty days."
Now standing on the second floor, Mme. Foster turned her back on the central hall.
"And that will be that--this crowd is adjourned. I don't care if you're my granddaughter or the Prime Minister, such selfishness will never ever be tolerated in Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends... let that be a lesson to everybody here."
The old woman raised her feet to leave when she felt a pleading hand's shadow cast over her--which she swiftly jerked away with her own arms.
"No more, Frances. Just... no more."
"Please--"
"Leave me alone." Mme. Foster sighed. "You are a disgrace."
And with a finalitative huff, she strode off into the nearest hall and away from the crowd's eyesight.
"I..."
The saliva in Frankie's mouth snowballed in reverse, trailing her voice into that of a defeated hiss. Her chest tightened, her fingers quivered and she could feel an intense moistening sensation in her eye nostrils... she darted back towards the main hall. The crowd, a mixture of human clients and passerby imaginary friends, looked on with stony silence and awe--a silence that, as indicated by her sunk soul, would last for only a few seconds.
The entire room roared with noise. Snickers and laughter, some of them pointing the fingers towards the young woman; derogatory remarks ranging from "What a loser" and "Ooooh, redhead's got no boyfriend, redhead's got no boyfriend!" to "The old lady sure put that bitch in her place!"... it all ran twisted circles across the eardrums, stinging her brain and stabbing her heart.
Gulping, she turned towards the friends scattered around the staircase... Wilt gave an embarassed moan. The big furry coward Eduardo carried grimace in his face. Instead of squawking, Coco just bowed and shook her head. Many of the others either looked on disapprovingly or snickered unsympathetically--the blue blob in particular leant against the railing, his face glittering with triumph.
"Bloo..."
"Wanna punch me?" he shrugged. "Turn a month into a year? Hey, it's your funeral after all."
Frankie didn't react to those last few words. Partly because she'd gone stone cold numb at this point--partly because her puffy eyes welled uncontrollably with cristal tears, blurring everything around her.
You know very well this is the only job you can hold on to... my friends are right, you ARE a hopelessly paranoid, crybaby loser... try getting laid for once... your funeral after all...
You are a disgrace.
She clamped her eyes shut.
- - -
Figures. A few dozen of them, huddled all around her in a pitch-black room with a white spotlight... a perfect circle. She sat in a plain wooden chair, letting everything swirl over her... her friends. And they all laughed.
Ooooh, angry Frankie's still bitter 'bout that Canadian kid! said the azure blue.
So pathetic, opined the satin red with stringy eyes. What a dreadful, ill-raised girl.
The blue scoffed. She's twenty-two, a full-grown woman for cripes sakes! What you mean to say is; for somebody her age-- and boy's name--she sure acts like a little girl.
Aye--not to mention, she's still slaving away at that madhouse for imaginary friends.
Tut tut, Master Blooregard and Master Wilt, watch your wording, said the pearly white. That's our madhouse... and she's my slave. Isn't that right, Miss Frances?
What do you think Frankie is, senorita? asked the huge slab of fur to the female ecstatic beak.
Co-co! Co-co, co-co... CO-CO! CO--
ENOUGH!
The others turned around in shock; and then moved aside: a small chestnut brown swirl rose among them and directly approached Frankie.
"Mac! You..."
The fist in the woman's heart loosened marginally upon seeing the brown; he was the lone voice of reason at Foster's, and the closest thing she could deem a human friend. If anybody would understand her woes, surely he would be it. He would...
...give a loud, prolonged, disgusted raspberry sound.
Eeeeeeeeeew, gross! Why would I want a loser like you as my friend--much less my big sister? he spat. Get a life, please... oh wait, you can't. You're forever bound to slave away at grandma's place. Which is a good thing, because you'd bomb in the outside world... and it's hilarious you tried to expose that Goofball as an imposter, since you're a lame-o poser yourself! Face it, YOU SUCK!"
"Wha... what did you--"
Red is ugly--YOU'RE UGLY! No man would want you as their girlfriend... at least, those who aren't RETARDED!
"Ma--"
The brown just hunched back towards and blended with all the other swirls, forming one giant nauseating blur. They spun around the skirts of the spotlight, laughing and giggling, laughing and giggling... Frankie tried to rise from the chair and run away, but she was paralyzed and bound to it--and now she couldn't even open her mouth or move her eyes.
Nobody likes you, nobody likes you... said the blue blob, at first alone--and then it grew, one-by-one. Nobody likes you, nobody likes you, nobody likes you, NOBODY LIKES YOU, NOBODY LIKES YOU, NOBODY LIKES YOU, NOBODY LIKES Y--
"EARTH TO FRANCES, EARTH TO FRANCES!"
Without warning, the blur morphed into a giant furry paw, which rocketed straight towards her.
- - -
"Still making a scene in front of everybody? Tell me, Miss Frances--do you want an Oscar nomination? Do you need to be this hopelessly overdramatic?"
The caretaker lay fallen and sprawled across the upper rungs of the central staircase for some time and without speaking. Soon, she opened her eyes, inch by painful inch, and glanced at her surroundings... much of the crowd still remained, continuing to react and remark over the ensuing drama. For the third time, her facial cheeks throbbed with the fury of a thousand suns... and worst of all, she felt the shadow of a certain stern hare drooping over her.
He laid a paw on the female's scrawny figure. "Get up, you pathetic, insipid--"
CRACK.
It all happened in a flash: Mr. Herriman waltzed backwards, his arms flailing and his eyes aimlessly wandering across the ceiling... he mumbled incoherently for a few seconds, hissing something to the effect of "eye" and "blind"... the nearby friends soon noted that his monocle fell to the nearby rung. It was cracked--and tinged with fresh blood.
They turned towards the rabbit, and just in time: he succombed down the staircase, landing harshly on his front and laid across the floor, immobile.
They turned towards Frankie. Her right fist was raised straight in the air, closed tight--
Hanging where Herriman's head previously was.
- - -
And just like that, all energy amongst the witnesses drained once they saw the rabbit on the floor; the raucous noise reduced to stunned gasps and dead whispers. Some of the humans inched to check on the fallen hare... his left eye began to gush crimson.
One of them, a middle-aged businessman, gawked. "Alright, don't panic, somebody call--"
The man felt a fierce clawing sensation on his shoulder before finishing--and before he could react, it shoved him firmly away and back into the pack. The others became horrified: standing in his place was that very woman they saw just moments earlier.
Frankie simply knelt on top of the hare and pointed with a slurred scowl.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up..." she tranced. "I mean it, SHUT UP!"
"You... you punched--"
"You think you're sooooooo great: that tacky monocle, that shitty tuxedo, your seniority--ooops, I mean SENILITY in his house; and that drunken mouth of yours that's good at nothing except bossing me around because YOU'RE a lazy asshole and because YOU count all the finances of this house while I slave away as I'm part of some SWEATSHOP..."
"Frances--"
"FOR THE LAST TIME, MY NAME IS FRANKIE! I REFUSE TO BE ASSOCIATED WITH YOUR PRECIOUS ELITIST UPPER-CLASS!"
"I--"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Aghast murmurs abuzzed. The nearby witnesses instantly backed back into the crowd, not wanting to feel the woman's wrath--but frankly, at this point, Frankie couldn't care less about how any of them would react. Oh, they were out of the picture now. Instead, years of anguished regret flashed before here, years of being nice and finishing last, of respecting others without being respected in return... her hands, her mouth, her eyes--
They all flared with the need for revenge... and she was going to get it now.
Ignoring the shades of sincere fright in the his face, Frankie mounted the hare and hammered away without ruth.
"Fra-- why-- you-- pl--" Herriman's head bobbled against the exposed floor, his cheeks crunching with massive pain.
"You... ruined... MY LIFE..." she snarled between breaths. "Now I'm... gonna... ruin... YOURS--"
A satin hand quickly reached towards the woman's fist, yanking it back. "Frankie, my god," said Wilt. "What has possesed you into this--"
Her arms promptly halted and sagged--then rammed him away.
The friend's lanky frame flew a few feet away from the scuffle, tumbling some of the nearby witnesses. They stared towards his direction, and saw the lady's right arm finish a fierce horizontal 90-degree turn.
Her index uncurled from the fist. "Leave me alone." she threatened. "I mean it, just..."
"Frankie?" said Wilt. "Please, calm down, tell me you'll--"
"LEAVE ME ALONE!"
And she spun to leave when she heard an angry wheeze from the floor.
"Utterly speechless!" she turned around and saw a wounded Mr. Herriman being helped to his feet by Eduardo and Coco, his paw covering the bloody eye. "Attack me like that, in front of EVERYBODY no less-- oh, there'll be hell to pay, I'm warning you. You've completely lost it--"
"LOST IT!" she cried. "Oh no no no, I didn't lose it, BECAUSE YOU ALL TOOK IT FROM ME!"
"Well," Herriman puffed. "Why, I can't believe it... how could poor Madame be related to such a savage..."
Frankie flinched, but didn't react to those last few words. Instead, "poor Madame" prompted her to dart towards the staircase; the elderly Foster stood halfway, holding a full wine vase with one hand and clutching her stunned face with the other.
"Frances..." she choked. "What is this--"
TWACK.
Instantly, the vase slipped from her grip and fell to the floor, shattering into microscopic bits. The auburn liquid spilled down the rung and eventually onto the floor, leaving behind a filthy unremovable trail that was chillingly symbolic of what occured right now. The impact was loud--
Not as loud as being slapped by your own granddaughter.
Any anger in Mme. Foster's face drained as Frankie bore venomously into her.
"Respect. R-E-S-P-E-C-T." she sobbed. "All of these years spent; that's all I wanted in return... and this is how you pay me back?"
"Fra--"
"Fine then." A bitter smile curled around Frankie's thinning lips. "FUCK YOU!"
The elderly's brittle eardrums recoiled in those last few words. Fuck you... her eyes widened in horror.
"Swee--"
"FUCK ALL OF YOU, IN FACT! YOU'RE NOTHING MORE THAN LAZY, GOOD FOR NOTHING PIECES OF SHIT!"
"Why--"
"I'M TIRED, TIRED, TIRED! SO FUCKING TIRED I COULD DROP DEAD OF A HEART ATTACK THIS INSTANT... AND I SINCERELY HOPE SO, BECAUSE I'VE HAD FUCKING ENOUGH OF YOUR BULLSHIT!"
"You--"
"AND YOU KNOW WHAT? I'M DONE! I QUIT! BYE-BYE FOR THE EVIL MISS FRANCES, LITERALLY THE REDHEADED DEMONSPAWN OF THE WONDERFUL FOSTER FAMILY! THE BLACK SHEEP SO VILE AND HEARTLESS THAT SHE SACRIFICED ALL THE YEARS SPENT ON COLLEGE, GETTING ALL THOSE DEGREES, PURSUING SOMETHING RESEMBLING AN ACTUAL GODDAMN FULFILLING LIFE--JUST SO SHE COULD SPEND THE REST OF HER LIFE HERE, TO SCRUB TOILETS AT THIS WONDERFUL MADHOUSE! YOU WANT TO VILLIFY ME? GIRL, YOU'VE GOT SOME NERVE--YOU SHOULD BE PUNISHED FOR WHAT YOU PULLED OVER THE TICKETS TO EUROPE!"
Tears formed across the old lady's face. "Please--"
"PLEASE? PLEASE! PLEASE WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU WHEN I NEEDED EVEN THE BRIEFEST OF BREAKS--IN NO FUCKING WAY SHOULD IT BE GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME NOW! IT WASN'T MY FAULT THAT GOOFBALL TREATED ME LIKE A BITCH, NOR IT WASN'T MY FAULT THAT I HAD TO GO SHOPPING BECAUSE HE AND THAT ASSHOLE BLOOREGARD ATE EVERYTHING--OR THAT THEY ORDERED PIZZA WITHOUT TELLING ME--NOR WAS IT MY FAULT THAT NOBODY BOTHERED TO TELL ME ABOUT THOSE ELEPHANT TRUNKS BEHIND THAT STUPID CLOWN NOSE, SO THAT MY "GOOF-GOOF" INCIDENT COULD'VE BEEN AVOIDED SO THAT I WOULD'VE GONE TO THE CONCERT AND, GOD FORBID, GET SOME FUCKING TIME TO MYSELF?"
"IT WAS A MISTAKE, A FUCKING MISTAKE! I'M ONLY HUMAN, NOT SOME WONDERFULLY FLAWLESS IMAGINARY CREATION LIKE I'M SURE YOU THINK MR. HERRIMAN IS! BUT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, I HAD TO PAY FOR ALL THE THINGS GOOFBALL DID TO ME; WHICH IS WHY I'M STILL SUFFERING WHILE HE'S NOW COZY SOMEWHERE IN CANADA, PROBABLY PARTYING HARD, WATCHING A SOUTH PARK MARATHON AND FUCKING SOME TEENAGE BLONDES ALONG WITH HIS EQUALLY REPUGNANT FRIENDS! BUT FINE--IF HE OR SOME OTHER ASSHOLE LIKE HIM COMES BACK, LET'S SEE HOW YOU HANDLE WITHOUT ME!"
"He--"
"AND NEXT TIME YOU WON'T HAVE ME AS A SCAPEGOAT! INSTEAD, YOU'LL HAVE TO TURN TO, GEE I DON'T KNOW, PERHAPS WILT! HE'S ONLY SOME SPINELESS WIMP WHO COULDN'T SAY "NO" EVEN IF HE HAD DARTH FUCKING VADER THREATENING TO SHOVE A LIGHTSABER UP HIS ASS! IN FACT, HE CAN BE THE NEW CARETAKER; I'M SURE MR. HERRIMAN WILL APPRECIATE NO LONGER HAVING TO GO "MISS FRANCES" ALL THE TIME--"MISS FRANCES" THIS, "MISS FRANCES" THAT, "OH MISS FRANCES, GO END THE WAR ON TERRORISM AND CURE CANCER WHILE HANDCUFFED, BLINDFOLDED AND JUGGLING TEXAS AND THE MOON WITH YOUR NOSE--AS A REWARD, YOU GET TO WIPE MY ASS!"--ALWAYS MISS FUCKING FRANCES!"
"AS OF RIGHT NOW, I'M STUCK BABYSITTING ABOUT SEVEN-HUNDRED FRIENDS THAT ONLY EXIST BECAUSE PARENTS THESE DAYS ARE SO NEGLIGENT THAT THEY CAN'T EVEN TEACH "MIND CONTROL" TO THEIR KIDS; IT'S BAD ENOUGH THAT THEY'RE SO IGNORANT THAT THEY'LL LET THEM GET BULLIED AND THEN THEY'LL PLAY ABOUT DOZENS OF HOURS OF GRAND THEFT AUTO AND THEN STUFF LIKE THE COLUMBINE MASSACRE AND THE SEPTEMBER 11 TERRORIST ATTACKS OCCURS!"
"AND WHAT DID YOU LOT DO TO, I DUNNO, ACTUALLY HELP ME OUT A BIT? I KNOW, CALL ME TO YOUR OFFICE SO YOU CAN REPRIMAND ME OVER CHORES THAT I'VE YET TO GET AROUND TO BECAUSE OF THE AFOREMENTIONED--AND THUS LEAVING ALL THESE FRIENDS UNGUARDED, CAUSING THAT MISCHIEVOUS ASSHOLE APE TO WALTZ INTO MY ROOM, MESS WITH MY MUSIC COLLECTION AND STEAL MY FUCKING UNDERWEAR! OH, HARD TO BELIEVE, THE BEST IS YET TO COME: HE KNOCKED ME DOWN THE FUCKING FLIGHT OF STAIRS!"
"AND HE'S A "POOR APE" BECAUSE OF IT? HE GETS ALL YOUR LOVE FOR MISBEHAVING WHILE I LOSE ACCESS TO MY POSSESSIONS FOR TRYING TO SET THINGS STRAIGHT? BIG DEAL, IT'S NOT LIKE I GET MUCH OF A CHANCE TO ACTUALLY USE THEM IN THE FIRST PLACE, BECAUSE I'M TOO BUSY CATERING TO EVERY THANKLESS FUCKING WHIM! AND I'M A "WANNABE" BECAUSE BLOOREGARD CHOSE TO CHANGE MY RINGTONE TO FUCKING BLACK EYED PEAS TO EMBARASS ME IN FRONT OF EVERYONE? WAS IT MY FAULT THAT MENACE SET THE RECEPTION SO THE CALLER COULD BE HEARD OUT LOUD, AND WAS IT MY FAULT YOU ALL MADE ME SO UNSETTLED THAT I SNAPPED AT MY FRIEND, SO THAT SHE WOULD SNAP AT ME AS WELL AND SO THAT EVERYBODY COULD OVERHEAR THE LAST REMNANTS OF MY SOCIAL LIFE GO DOWN THE TOILET!"
"OH, BUT THAT DOESN'T MATTER, BECAUSE I'M THE BIGGEST BITCH TO WALK ON THE FACE OF THIS INNOCENT AND PURE EARTH! I'M MORE EVIL THAN HITLER AND HUSSAIN PUT TOGETHER! GREEDY, TEMPERAMENTAL, COLDHEARTED, SELFISH! ONE THING, THOUGH--HOW CAN I BE SELFISH IF I DON'T HAVE A MOTHERFUCKING SELF TO BEGIN WITH?"
"I--"
"I HATE YOU!"
The room entire became stone cold. The bystanders, once deriving great glee from the young redhead's plight, now gazed in horror as they watched her headfirst plunge into insanity. Mme. Foster cowered against the rungs, giving up the idea of stopping Frankie's maniacal fit... at the same time that she at last stopped screaming.
Her wide-open mouth shook shut... she slowly spun around, and quickly read the uniform terror in all their faces... and soon after, she closed her eyes shut--but it was too late. Instead of lines, freezing rivers of tears streaked down her pasty-white face, dripping down her chin and perfectly countering the stinging facial sweatdrops...
Just barely, she felt a small tug on her jacket's sleeve.
"Frankie?"
A youngling's tone, innocent and concerned... she drooped her head accordingly and there he was--a small boy with chestnut brown hair and eyes that glistened with fresh sadness.
"Why are you so upset?" he said. "I heard you screaming as I made my way inside... what's wrong?"
What's wrong?
Frankie sagged in faux contemplation before speaking in a fatal tone.
"Hmppph, want an answer?" she scoffed.
"Yea--"
"How about you."
The boy's eyes widened dismayedly. "What do you mean--"
"How about that good-for-nothing piece of shit "friend" you call Bloo." she then raised her finger and spun it in a woozy circle. "How about every single person standing in this room as I speak? You deem yourselves to be so great--but you're all fucking peasants as far as I care. That's all I have to say."
She took a sharp sigh and marched back up the stairs--only to feel that familiar old hand curl around her waist..
"Frances, I--"
"No... please tell me. How can I be selfish if this is the best I can manage after all those years of effort? All my dreams, all my ambitions, all those degrees I've gotten and all those I wanted, my future--"
And as quick as a fox, Frankie did a complete one-eighty, flinging the elder's arm in stern refusal. Her eyes twitched and her frothing mouth sprang wide open.
"AND I'M SPENDING IT AS YOUR SLAVE, IN THIS GODFORSAKEN SHITHOLE!"
The huge spanish monster balked. "Que!"
Wilt rolled his eyes. "Oh dear, again..."
"For the love of god," Mme. Foster dropped to her knees and began to cry. "Please stop, they're here--"
"No, do let them hear us." she said coldly. "It'd be pretty tragic if your wonderful imaginary friends never learn the truth about yours truly. Which is what I'll do right now: THANKS FOR NOTHING, YOU UNGRATEFUL BUMS!"
She took a few more steps upwards, unaware that her sleeve dragged the boy along.
"Frankie..." he begged. "Please--"
Just some rungs away from the second floor, the woman stopped... not because of the child, but instead the heartbroken elder--and an exhausted Herriman, who huddled to his creator with more fright than gruff.
"But feel free to kick me out, and feel free to permanently deny that I was ever your granddaughter." she spat. "Just don't be surprised if this joint then goes bankrupt and you're forced to join me on the streets, JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE INCAPABLE OF DEALING WITH ABOUT SEVEN HUNDRED CRETINS CREATED BY SOME STUPID RETARDED GIRL!"
And she turned in a puff, about to walk away--when a tiny female glint came crashing to her mind.
Frankie quickly turned around and looked over to the audience... and indeed, amongst them was none other than a little dark-skinned girl with multiple dreadlocks. She recognized her from a few days earlier...
Goo.
Frankie's heart sank.
"Oh, no..."
The woman hurried to the bottom, just as the same time she began to solemly walk up the stairs... tears formed across her once-perky eyes.
She placed a sincere hard on the girl. "Goo, I--"
Goo simply shoved them away. "Leave me alone."
Those would be her last few semi-compostured words before wailing loudly and running up the stairs and into one of the many second-floor halls.
Gulping, Frankie turned to the aforementioned small boy, who headed upwards as well.
"Mac--"
He shot a dirty glare towards the woman. "Get bent."
And he ran off into the same direction as the little girl, calling for her name.
For a brief eternity, time stalled... as did the heart palpitations of everybody currently in the spacious room. Frankie spun around repeatedly, gazing wholesale--the would-be clients, the imaginary friends, the hare and the grandmother that she coldly shunned just moments earlier... and felt the last shards of her broken glass heart melt into ashes that permantently scarred her soul and conscience.
She ran away. Far, far away.
- - -
Oh, no no, I can't believe this is happening, no... what have I done...
Her feet splashed erratically against the muddy soil of the mansion's surroundings. The weather of this late-afternoon Friday, which started with soothing small specks of water, now looked to be otherwise--the clouds roared with increasing frequency; and with it thickening the batch of rain.
She skidded--just barely enough to not collide--in front of the Foster public bus. Her grandmother(So sweet and generous, she thought venomously) owned a rather spiffy personal car, leaving her and the rest of the house to fend for themselves with this tacky, oversized piece of shit... the redhead just rested against it's outer surface, gazing with horror at the sight now before her.
At one time, Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends seemed to be one of the most wonderful places on Earth, a haven for all those jaded by the world's contagious cynicism, a place that; just like it's name; was full of joy and imagination. But now, as she glared from a fair yet unsatisfactory distance, it loomed overhead with a harsh tint and a parasitic glee--as if it was no better than death row.
And indeed, the gateway--which she unknowingly waltzed through while half-way open--now slid slowly close, until making a thick CLANK sound indicating that it was firmly shut.
Jail.
Frankie Foster nervously hung her head low, and stared onto the dirty puddle caked against the sidewalk. The reflection was that of a redhaired person in emerald garb--
But she wore a normal t-shirt instead of a jacket--and her eyes carried a blatant glint of evil. "Congratulations, you've done it now... TWERP!"
- - -
A/N First off, it should be clear that I don't own Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends... nor do I own any of the real-life things referenced in this chapter(All bands, Star Wars and that "crossover cameo appearance" at the very end--more below).
Ashley, Savin the eel and Karoshi the troublesome ape are original creations of mine, the last of which you can expect to see more of in the future chapters... I might've overdone it with his constant pop culture references, but that's one of his personality traits. I actually had fun writing Karoshi's scenes, which is despite the fact that 1) Frankie is my favorite FHFIF character and she pretty much gets abused in a way that makes "Imposter's Home" look like a beacon of justice and 2) he trashed my two favorite bands, Coldplay and Radiohead(...yeah, I'm into British rock). The street rabbit is neither Bendy or an original character; he's the weeping friend that Frankie comforts in Hiccy Burp.
And yes... the reflection at the end is indeed Vicky from The Fairly Oddparents. It's a symbolic thing, really.
I haven't seen that many episodes of Foster's, so bear with me if any details are inaccurate. Also... this is my first fanfic in a long time--and my first lengthy serious one ever, so I apologize if you don't find it to be so stellar compared to other stories here. I realize I'm way behind the likes of dude13 and Goddess of Unfinished Projects, but I'm just starting out and I firmly believe that my writing will get better as I continue. In fact... the main purpose of this story--aside from my aforementioned love of Frankie--is basically about clearing out my writing rust for when I eventually decide to tackle some of my more epic projects in the future.
R/R, next chapter in around a week, and I'm 99.9 sure it won't be as long as this one... and in the interest of ending with a positive note, I can guarantee that things can only get better from here.