Chapter 2

By Sam Black

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A FEW DAYS BEFORE...

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"Grandma, I need help."

"You certainly do, Deary," Madame Foster said as she ambled down the stairs with the aid of a cane. Unless you knew her, she would have struck you as some little old lady who could remember her flapper's days with startling clarity but would always forget her grand children's names.

And you would be wrong on both accounts. First off, in the 20's she was doing more bootlegging than flapping. And secondly, despite her grandmotherly habit of calling a lot of people "Deary" she could remember more than just names. She knows everything that goes on in Foster's, either by word-of-mouth or by keeping up with the security cameras that Bloo SWEARS she's had installed throughout the house.

"This house is just too much for one, single person to-wait, what?"

Madame Foster gave her granddaughter, Frankie, a knowing look, "When is the last time you brushed your hair?" she asked. Her voice is so sweet, it sounded like she was asking if you wanted her to bake you some cookies.

Frankie stumbled over her thoughts, 'I brushed my hair this morning right?' she asked herself. Her hand immediately went to her messy ponytail.

"That's what I thought." the older woman said with a nod, she continue on her way and Frankie walked quickly to catch up with her.

"What am I gonna do about Mr. Herriman? He's the one that has to fill out all the paperwork." she fret as she walked along side her grandmother, "What if I ask him and he says "no", you know how he is." she adds with a roll of her eyes.

Madame Foster laughed and looked sidelong..and upwards at Frankie, "He was made that way, Deary. He can't help it." she explained, "He likes order and procedure, tradition and etiquette. He is a gentleman's rabbit."

Frankie rolled her eyes and shuffled her feet, "So what should I do? Type up a proposal and leave it on his desk?" she said with only a small hint of humor.

Madame Foster slowed her steps until she finally came to a halt right in front of the Tea Room, "You're learning." she said and walked in, leaving her granddaughter standing in the hallway, stunned speechless.

"I was JOKING!" she exclaimed.

Well, mostly speechless.

Running a hand over her face she looked around the hallway in frustration. 'A proposal?!" she demanded. Shaking her head she began to backtrack down the hall.

'A proposal. I'm supposed to write up a proposal asking for permission to hire help.'

Finding herself back in the Grand Hall she looked around and finally settled on doing some laundry before it piled up on her again.

'I can't believe this.'

As she navigated her way through the seemingly endless halls toward the laundry room she thought about the idea some more. Okay, so maybe she would have to swallow some of her pride and play by Fuzz butt's rules, but at least she would have someone to help with the laundry...and dishes...and mopping...and vacuuming...and polishing...and cooking...and the windows...and keeping Bloo off the chandelier...and...and...

Francis Foster sighed and gave in. She'd play by procedure. She'd roll her eyes, and groan, and complain, and curse business etiquette the entire time, but by the end of the night she'd have that damn proposal on Herriman's desk even if it killed her.

Grinding her teeth, she walked into the laundry room and groaned. The piles of laundry were almost as tall as she was. Her eyes narrowed. 'Those Help Wanted signs are going to be BRIGHT YELLOW,' she vowed in aggravation.

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Dear Mr. Herriman,

I, Francis Foster, humbly ask for your consent in matters dealing with keeping the household at the utmost level of efficiency and hygiene.

This letter is to proposition the addition of an extra employee to aid me with the increasing influx of household duties that I am in charge of. With the addition of new friends comes an increase in laundry, dishes, and miscellaneous messes.

Along with most of my duties, these increases seem to have become more than I can handle alone. And as much as I hate to admit it, I am sorely falling behind.

With the addition of a second employee, who would become assistant caretaker, the chores would go faster, more messes would be averted, and more eyes would be kept on the friends.

With this extra help, the activities of the house would run smoother, meals would not be late, areas needing attention would not be put off for more pressing matters, and there would be less stress for everyone involved, including you Mr. Herriman.

Now, I know how much effort the whole process of Hiring can take up. So, to save your valuable time, I would be willing to take on the entire project myself without skirting from my duties. The advertising, the interviews, the background checks, I would take care of it all. Of course, I would run every worthwhile potential candidate by you first. And if anything about them does not meet your standards, I will refuse to hire them.

I beg you to consider my proposition and take into account that if I had been able to handle it on my own, I would not have wasted your time. But seeing as how I have, I implore you to think it over.

Thank you for your consideration. Your humble employee,

Francis Foster.

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"Miss Francis, report to my office immediately." the distinctly British accent rang true through the halls of Foster's.

Frankie halted her attempt to mop up a spill in the dining room, "He doesn't...sound mad." she remarked thoughtfully. Her hope rose, even though her stomach felt leaden.

Putting the mop and bucket in the corner, so she could return to it later, she made her way towards Herriman's office.

'He's going to tell me 'no'. He's going to say 'Nice try. But nope.' in that uppity accent.'

Looking at all the pictures and eclectic collection of portraits and painting on the walls she tried to distract herself. As a kid she used to love running up and down these halls and looking at everything trying to memorize it all. It's been a while since she really looked closely at anything. Unless she was cleaning it, of course. She could probably tell you exactly how many individual tiles are in the kitchen and the number windows there are on every floor of the entire house. Not like it's really USEFUL, but she could do it.

'Maybe it won't be that bad. Maybe he won't say 'no', maybe he'll just stare at me until I start to cry.' she thought grimly.

Her steps were careful, slow. Just delaying the inevitable. She got to the painting of an old woman posing with fruit and took a left.

'He's gonna say "yes", I wrote a proposal for crying out loud. It doesn't get any fancier than that.'

Another left at the corner and she's down the hall from his office.

'Stay strong. You NEED an extra hand. You can't keep asking Wilt, it's not like he'll ever turn you down, so it's unfair. He's a friend. He's not paid to work. He does it out of kindness. You're just taking advantage of him. So keep that in mind.'

She was just outside Herriman's door.

'Okay Frankie. Deep breath. And...knock.'

She remained frozen.

'Knock on the door.'

Nothing. She couldn't do it.

'Get your arm up... Raise your arm!'

Taking a deep breath, she raised her arm to the door, fist poised to knock. She stared hard.

'What are you waiting for? Knock on the damn door! You're wasting his time!'

She let her arm fall. What if he didn't let her hire someone. What was she going to do?

'He's just a rabbit! Pick your arm back up! Pick it up right now! He's an overgrown plush toy! Get your ass in there!'

Frankie frowned, since when has she been afraid of Mr. Herriman?

'You aren't. Now knock on the door. Go in there. And get this over with. Band-aid quick, okay? 1..2..3...Go!'

Her knock echoed around in her mind.

"Come in Miss Francis." a tired voice called out.

Gritting her teeth, Frankie turned the doorknob and walked in.

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The halls seemed smaller when she emerged, not as intimidating as they were. The whole world seemed a little lighter.

As she followed her normal route back to the dining room her thoughts remained quiet.

"Frankie?" a familiar voice called out. She must have looked troubled.

The redhead turned and was surprised to see Wilt sitting at the bottom of the grand staircase, helping a friend tie their shoes. Well, not that surprised. He always helped Sneaks tie his shoes.

"Hey Wilt." she said, face suddenly breaking into a smile.

Wilt tilted his head to the side, and gave her a strange look, "I'm sorry, but are you okay?" he asked. Frankie only nodded.

Sneaks cleared his throat, Wilt looked startled and finished tying the laces. When he was done, he stood up and walked over to Frankie, joining her as she walked back to the Dining Room.

"So, is anything up?" Wilt inquired casually.

Frankie ignored the question for the most part, "Hey Wilt? You uh, you wanna go with me to XeroxWorld tomorrow?" she asked.

The tall friend narrowed an eye in confusion, "Huh. Well sure Frankie, always happy to help." he replied cheerfully.

Frankie stopped in her tracks, "No Wilt. Not to help. Just to go with me. For fun." she explained slowly with a firm look on her face.

This actually managed to surprise Wilt, "Really?' he asked.

Frankie nodded, "Yep. Just want you for your company." she said, "So, waddya say?"

Wilt thought about it for a moment, "I guess that would be okay." he said uncertainly.

Frankie raised an eyebrow, and started walking again.

Wilt kept at her side, "I'm sorry, but I have to ask. What are you going to do at XeroxWorld?"

Frankie came to a stop in the Dining Room, looking over at the mop in the corner she smirked, "Getting myself a lackey." she said with satisfaction.

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A/N: Thanks for the reviews. Well, more like one review. My brother's doesn't count because he wrote the word "Please" in net-speak and spelled it with an "x". I had to smack him in the head. Thanks anyway, Eric. You too, M. Noodles.