"Oh, good heavens!"
The large imaginary rabbit exclaimed in incomparable appall, as if the earth had opened up and he just had a glimpse into the bowels of hell itself. After all, it wasn't exactly every day that the mud itself appeared to tramp in through the front door to try and take shelter from the light rain outside.
The very instant his initial shock began to wear off however, a stern scowl suddenly took root about his features, and in a heartbeat the elderly figment had dashed over and firmly nabbed the two-muck splattered miscreants before either had a chance to do anything.
"OW!" the mud-covered little boy yelped in agony as the imaginary rabbit grabbed hold tightly of his earlobe in a vice-grip, while his equally filthy blobbish companion squealed in pain as some skin on the side of his head was pinched sharply.
"YOW! Hey, what gives?" Bloo yelled indignantly before Mr. Herriman quickly silenced them both with a piercing stare.
"Oh, I'll gladly tell you 'what gives,' Master Blooragard!" he barked. "You two ruffians sincerely believe that you can just frolic about freely in the filth outside, then saunter right in without any repercussion whatsoever? Balderdash! You should both be quite aware for at this point that not only do you stay insides when it downpours, but you do not romp in the mud and then bring it right back here and turn this house into little more than a pigsty! I thought I've made this clear before, absolutely no mud fights!"
"Ow! Sorry! We're sorry!" Mac instinctively yelped as he squirmed about in agony. "But we were going to go right upstairs and clean up, honest!"
"And track even more filth into this house? Oh, don't even think about it!" came the stern reply. "Master Mac, you don't even want to know just how appalled I am by you in particular as of this moment! What on earth will your guardian say when she learns that thanks to you and that conniving creation of yours, she'll have to spend goodness only knows how long cleaning up this-"
"Found my scrunchie!" a lanky, muck-covered figure announced happily as she suddenly slipped in through the front door. "Sorry about the wait, guys. Okay, now all we have to do is just head upstairs and clean up before….the rabbit….finds out…that…we…"
At first, Mr. Herriman couldn't even recognize the resident caretaker due to the fine coating of mud that covered her from head to foot. Once recognition set in though, his eyes almost popped to the size of ripe oranges in his shock, while the young woman rapidly trailed off into a dead quiet once she looked up and spotted him smack in front of her face. Immediately she froze like a deer in headlights and just stared mutely in total dismay, unable to believe her rotten luck, as the imaginary rabbit just gawked incredulously right back, unable to believe his own eyes.
"…Miss Frances?" he finally managed to murmur.
Instantly Frances "Frankie Foster lit up with a blazing blush so bright it shined straight through the filth that covered her. After remaining as silent as a corpse for a few moments more, the embarrassed redhead planted on a woeful excuse for a disarming grin and after unsuccessfully trying to come up with a half-decent excuse, she finally just admitted truthfully, "Well…I-I... I haven't really had a good mud fight since I was just a kid, y'know…"
Usually, it wasn't much of an occasion at all when the mail arrived daily, as it was supposed to. Thus, needless to say, one particular resident was quite surprised one afternoon when she received something not only out of the ordinary, but quite to her extreme disliking as she rapidly made clear.
"Are you trying to tell me something?" The young woman barked angrily as she abruptly stormed into the expansive office.
Not even batting an eyelid, Mr. Herriman calmly looked up from the finances he had been reviewing and answered slightly confusedly, "I beg your pardon, Miss Frances?"
Looking fit to maim something, Frankie glared daggers his way as she stormed over to his desk.
"Don't act like you don't know!" she hissed. "What in the world is this all about?"
With this angry inquiry she fiercely slammed down several magazines atop the mess of paperwork he had been tending to, and in quick succession she pointed to every one and read their name aloud.
"Mommy and Me Monthly, Mothering Today and Parents Weekly, all of them addressed to me, all of which just arrived today." She explained before shooting him another dirty look. "Is there something you want to tell me?"
Rather than be alarmed by the fires raging in her emerald eyes, the elderly figment just took a quick glance at the assorted magazines and immediately burst out grinning. "Ah! What a coincidence! I was just wondering when they'd begin to arrive. Splendid! I wasn't expecting such haste at all, seeing as it was only last week I subscribed to-"
"Excuse me?" the indignant redhead snapped, while Mr. Herriman calmly motioned for her to settle down.
"Please, Miss Frances, there's no need to work yourself up into such a fuss. Just-"
"No need?" Frankie snapped incredulously as she sat herself down. "You just told me you're the one who's subscribing to these stupid things! As far as I know, you're telling me I'm doing a grade-A job of screwing up taking care of Mac, and now I have to listen to a bunch of-"
"Come now, I never explicitly made such an accusation." He countered calmly.
"So what gives with the magazines, then?" she scowled darkly. "Huh? Why the h-"
"Miss Frances, please calm yourself!" Mr. Herriman implored again. With an irked groan, she nevertheless ceased her ranting, crossed her arms, and slumped a little in her seat as she waited for some answers.
"Now, Miss Frances, you must understand." The imaginary rabbit began to explain. "It's not that I feel that you're having considerable difficultly caring for Master Mac on your own. Indeed, perish the thought; ever since the child officially took up residence here under your care, you've done quite the commendable job of looking after him. However, while hardly sloppy, I do believe that your parenting skills are a bit…how shall I put this….'lacking' in some areas-"
"Lacking?" she repeated irritably as she shot upright in her chair. "Just what is that supposed to mean?"
"I'm not accusing you of intentionally harming the boy in any way, shape or form, I'm simply saying that sometimes you're far too lax in your methods." Mr. Herriman answered. "You can't act like a mere child yourself anymore, seeing as how you're caring for one yourself-"
"So I actually like cut loose to have fun with him! Big deal! Frankie scoffed. "What, are you saying I have to be a stickler like you?"
Mr. Herriman promptly ignored the less-than-flattering comment. "I'm just saying you need to do a bit of a better job acting as the proper mole model he needs, or trying to be the better guardian you can actually be. Thus, after a bit of research, I took the liberty to fill out several subscriptions to credible magazines to assist you-"
"Well, let me come out and say it now; you're wasting your money." The young woman declared flatly. "You can have a thousand of these dumb magazines come a day if you like, but I'm not going to even touch a single one. I don't care what you think, I say I'm getting along fine without any weirdo columnist telling me I need to freak out every time Mac gets a scrape on the knee-"
"Think again." Mr. Herriman cut her off sternly. "Miss Frances, I not only expect you to start reading these, but I also expect to start seeing noticeable changes in your methods soon, ones that won't give me any need to worry about Master Mac's future or fears he won't be the well-adjusted child he needs to be if -"
"But-" Frankie tried to whine in vain.
"I don't want to hear a single word of protest on the matter." he interrupted as he shoved the magazines right back into her hands. "There should be no reason for you to treat this like some sort of punishment. I'm no dungeon master; I'm only doing what's best for both you and the child. Now, it's time for you to get some serious reading done, young lady! Are we clear?" he demanded.
The dumbfounded caretaker didn't even remember how she had replied, or how he managed to make her leave, though she could guess that he accomplished it somewhat forcibly. All she knew was that a heartbeat later she found herself standing back outside the office, magazines in hand and the rabbit back with his nose to the grindstone once more.
With a low moan of disbelief, the despairing redhead nevertheless opened one of the magazines just to get an initial clue of the kind of parent Mr. Herriman apparently wished for her to become. Her eyes darted downwards and she softly read aloud titles of all the articles in the table of contents.
"Hugs; Why You're Probably Not Giving Your Children Enough of Them'….'The Right Way to Do Bedtime.'…oh, gimme a break….'Are Your Kids Eating Enough Vegetables?'….'Are Your Kids Eating Too Many Vegetables?' Wait! What the…?"
Once she had some idea aboutt eh kind og guardian that the rabbit was now apparently expecting to be, the redhead tugged the despised magazines under her arm and headed off with a groan. "I think I'd have more fun jumping in front of a steamroller…."
If there was a better way to start a morning than by tackling head-on a hefty amount of paperwork that needed to get done, the imaginary rabbit didn't know about it, he decided as he paused midway through paying a utility bill for a quick sip of tea. As he took a moment so savor the taste of chamomile though, a barely noticeable but definite smile started to flitter across his furry features. Correction, now he did know if-
"Will you please just settle down for ten seconds?" the aggravated but familiar-sounding cry suddenly echoed from outside Mr. Herriman's office, effectively grabbing hold of his attention in an instant, and thoroughly puzzling him as well. That was strange…it was a bit too early for him to deal the usual shenanigans one puts up with while helping manage a home for imaginary friends. Now who on earth would be able to irritating antics already?
His answer arrived swiftly, for just a second later he heard a higher-pitched, equally familiar voice sputtered apologetically, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just…look, you never know, okay? I read how this seven-year-old in Florida was in a coma for two weeks because she smacked her-"
"I'm not going to be in a bike tournament or anything!" came the frustrated reply. "I'm just walking to school like I always do-"
"Yeah, but you walk on the sidewalk for that, and who knows what kind of condition its in! You could trip, and then smack your head right on the-"
"Oh c'mon! I'm not going to-"
"Please, pal, just for me? Seriously, all I'm asking for you is-"
"I told you, I don't want to-"
Before this could drag on any longer with absolutely no end in sight, Mr. Herriman promptly rose from his seat, and swiftly hopped out of his office and right into Fosters expansive foyer, inquiring as he dashed to the scene, "What is going on in-oh mercy!"
The figment took one glance at the redheaded woman trying to force what appeared to be a bicycle helmet onto an unwilling little boy, and he couldn't help but exclaim hoarsely in shock. With her haggard expression, heavy bags sagging under normally sparkling green eyes, and unusually pale pallor, the resident caretaker looked as if she had just risen from the grave after fretting herself to death.
"Huh?" Frankie murmured distractedly as she craned her neck around. "Mr. H?"
"Make her stop!" Mac begged as he finally wrestled her away and managed to back off a few paces. "Please!"
"I…I-I…" Mr. Herriman stammered stupidly for several moments, near speechless in his shock before he managed to ask, "My word, Miss Frances, what on earth happened to you?"
"Nothing!" the obviously exhausted young woman replied. "Nothing at all! I was just-"
"She just won't stop freaking out over everything-" Mac tried to answer before she interrupted.
"Nuh-uh!" Frankie denied. "I just…the thing was that I…see…"
After attempting to explain herself without any luck, she finally sighed, decided there was no other way to put it, and answered, "See, I…I started reading those magazines you gave me, and…and I…"
Suddenly, her mouth contorted into a guilty frown, and quickly she buried her face in her hands and lamented remorsefully, "Oh my God, I honestly had no idea!"
"No idea?" Mr. Herriman repeated confusedly. "Miss Frances, what do you mean-"
"Do you have any idea how lucky I am that Mac's even here with us today?" the clearly distraught young woman snapped. "Do you?"
"I-"
"I mean, the threats lurk just about everywhere!" Frankie ranted like a doomsday prophet. "Until I read all those articles yesterday, I had no idea, and it's only now that I've realized how far I've gotten on just dumb luck! I mean, the lunches I used to make for him were just packed with preservatives, no telling what those things will do! I never check if he puts on any sunscreen before he goes outside, and…and the germs! According to Mothering Today, I should be down on my knees thanking God that he hasn't gotten hepatitis yet!"
"Hepatitis? Oh good, gracious!" Mr. Herriman cried, thoroughly appalled by the radical transformation the worry-stricken redhead had worked herself into. "So you mean to tell me that you've been up all night fretting over-"
"You're going to wash you hands as soon as you get to school, right?" Frankie turned back to Mac and demanded. "Right? Are you going to-"
"Only if I don't have to wear these." Mac tried to compromise as he pointed to his knees and elbows, much to Mr. Herriman's dismay.
"Goodness, are those pads the child is wearing?" he demanded, bug-eyed in disbelief.
"Well, what do you want me to do? Let him fall down by accident and get a cut? You don't have a clue about the kind of damage that can be done by an infection!" Frankie snapped. "Parents Weekly told me all about it! I can't just let him walk out the door every morning without any protection from…f-from…"
Judging by the manner in which her eyeballs nearly bulged out of their sockets and her jaw dropped a little, it was quite clear that an extraordinarily unpleasant realization had just sunk in, much to Mr. Herriman's worry as he cautiously approached. "Uh…Miss Frances? Miss Frances, are you-"
"Oh….oh my God…" the distraught young woman murmured under her breath. "I…I-I…"
"Frankie?" Mac whimpered as he tentatively stepped towards her. "What's wrong?"
"I…I-I…I…I-I've been….I-I've b-been letting you walk to school this entire time…" the guilt-ridden redhead answered hoarsely before she sobbed despondently, "Alone!"
To the others' surprise, immediately she actually burst into tears, and hastily threw her arms around the child and hugged him close. As the waterworks were turned on and the hot tears started streaking down her cheeks, the stunned imaginary rabbit standing by her side cried out, "What? Miss Frances, why in heavens' name are you so hysterical over-"
"B-because I've been an idiot, that's why!" she wept bitterly as she coddled Mac and tightened her already tenacious hold, as if she was never going to let him go. "Every magazine told me over and over how I need to be more careful, especially when I let him go outsides! Do you have any clue how many kids go missing every years because of all the sickos out there who kidnap-"
"Please, there's no need to go to pieces here." Mr. Herriman, looking enormously alarmed by her distress, begged as he patted her back. "I-it's all right, Miss Frances, you…uh…you just-"
"How could I have been so stupid?" she lamented miserably. "I-I…I just let him walk out on his own everyday, all th-the way to school b-by himself, and…w-when some slimeball just couldn't pulled up in h-his car, and….a-a-and just could've…oh my God….oh my God, I…augh, how could I be so stupid? Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!"
Never had he seen his creator's usually feisty granddaughter so outright hysterical before. Needless to say, Mr. Herriman didn't like it one little bit, and it hardly took long until the outright guilt over reducing her to such a pathetic mess had completely overwhelmed him as he quickly realized his plan had backfired spectacularly.
"Miss Frances, where are those magazines I gave you?" he demanded frantically.
"Huh?" she sniffled.
"In her room!" Mac cried out as he tried to squirm from her grasp. "She was looking through them there this morning when-AUGH! Oh, seriously, cut it out! Frankie, c'mon, please!"
As her body started to quake under the force of fresh sobs, Frankie squeezed him a little closer, bringing him in far-too-close contact with her tear-streaked cheeks. Fortunately though, Mr. Herriman had already received the vital information he needed, and in a heartbeat he was barreling up the stairs like a furry juggernaut.
"Never again." He breathlessly promised to himself between gasps. "Never, ever…my Lord, never would I have imagined that…right in the trash they go, I'll put them right where they belong…"
It wasn't long until he had frantically bounded off, leaving Frankie and her charge alone. For a few moments, the two went dead silent, each one listening intently. As soon as she was convinced the rabbit was long out of earshot though, the "distraught" caretaker suddenly broke out into a small but genuine grin as she chortled, "I don't believe it…"
Immediately Frankie released Mac to try and fight off a surge of giggles, but her efforts turned out to be fruitless as her entire body quaked with immense glee.
"You were great!" she tittered as she proudly gave him a pat on the head.
Mac, looking none for the worse from the experience, just smiled and said modestly, "Nah, I didn't do that much…you were the one who made it realistic."
"Ha!" she laughed while wiping her eyes with a sweater sleeve. "All it took was remembering when my hamster died in fifth grade and staying up half the night. Heehee! It was totally worth it! I can't believe Peter Cotton-Butt bought it so quickly! He actually thought I had totally gone ultra-fretful mommy in no time at all!"
"I'm just glad we don't have to worry about how many green vegetables I need to eat everyday." Mac remarked in relief as he started to remove the elbow and kneepads. Frankie meanwhile continued snickering deviously.
"Ha! Got that right! Heehee! I almost wish it didn't happen so quickly, I was actually starting to enjoy it." She sniggered. "To be honest, I was kinda hoping 'Ultra-Fretful' wouldn't work, and we'd have to do the 'Super Smothering' parent routine."
Mac chuckled. "If act one didn't work, that would've definitely done the trick."
"Yeah, I can only imagine what the look on the bunny's face would've been when I started hugging you and planting fat, wet kisses all over your cheeks like there's no tomorrow. Ha! Honest, you have no clue whatsoever how many articles I found in those stupid magazines written by kooky ladies who said you had to give your kid like, a zillion hugs and kisses every day or else they would….uh….or else…or else they won't....grow up right, and….and they...."
Just like that, their mirth came to a crashing halt once they jointly realized a certain something that unfortunately, neither one wanted to openly admit it at first. As the laughter abruptly died and they trailed off, the two just stared silently at one another before Mac reminded with a grimace, "Well…you are…I mean…you get…uh….well, you already…y'know, you do kinda give me a lot of -"
"I only give you a hug when you leave for school!" Frankie sputtered defensively in a hasty attempt to prove that she was in no way at all like the "kooks" that she had been lambasting a minute ago.
"…And…and when I come home in the afternoon, too…remember?" Mac reminded meekly.
"Well…yeah, yeah you're right…" she quickly conceded. "And I guess we can't forget bedtime, too…and first thing in the morning, too…and…"
She quickly went silent again as she took a few seconds to try and accept the fact that the indisputably copious amount of affection she enjoyed lavishing upon her charge made her somewhat like some of the parents she had read about and deemed crazy.
Unsurprisingly, it soon proved to be a bit difficult to try and accept this truth, and as she quietly struggled, Mac cleared his throat, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and muttered, "Uh…I…I gotta get going…"
For a moment, her arms started rising before Frankie quickly placed them back at her sides as she replied with a face as scarlet as a ripe tomato, "See you later, pal…thanks for all your help…"
"No problem….bye, Frankie." He bid his adieu before turning around, opening the front door, and exiting outside. To his surprise though, he didn't even get halfway down the front walkway before a pair of slender arms wrapped around him from behind and swept him up into the air.
As the shamelessly maternal redhead squeezed him tightly in a warm good-bye hug, she admitted with a weak smile and a chuckle, "Okay…so big deal, I'm a bit of a kook already...."
The End