Child’s play 3 rewritten

by Slim bisket

6 years have passed since the events of Child’s play 2. Andy Barclay is now 13 and still haunted by his dark past. When a wfoster family adopts him his hopes lift. Meanwhille the greddy president of Play Pals, Mr. Sullivan decides to revive the cancelled Good Guys doll line, confident that all of the bad publicity is forgotten. As the assembly line creates new dolls Chucky’s back!

11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The building had to be empty, he guessed. None of the brats are here yet, it's still early. Chucky let go of the mesh wire fence and started running, dodging between the bushes to make sure nobody could see the colorful blur of his overalls. He ran to the nearest air vent, a perfect entrance for my size.

He pulled on the duct vent, it didn't budge. He grunted and pulled again, this time ripping it off and crawling through the ventilation shaft. He heard muffled voices speaking to one another from below as he made his way into the school. The principal's probably making another cup of coffee. Maybe playing hide the ruler with his secretary.

He came to the ducts of each room until he found the empty one where the schedules were being printed. Opening it carefully, Chucky climbed out of the vent and landed onto a chair next to the Printer. He smelled something he hadn't smelled in what, 20 to 25 years. Chalk and crayons. And stale urine from the bathroom across from the office where the little boys with their 'pee shooters' end up playing fireman on the floor. Chucky climbed onto the printer. Feeling his small rubber sneakers on the surface.

I hate these damn Good Guy shoes, they feel more like rubber socks squishing my toes. Then he froze in fear, I can feel my toes, that's not good, not good at all. Not good because they're slowly becoming real toes.

Chucky searched the mess of papers till he found a schedule with the name Andy B. Bingo! He heard adult footsteps from the floor below him. The teachers are probably down in their cancer wards, suckin on Marlboros and bragging about which kid in the special class is the craziest. Chucky gritted his acrylic teeth.

I was one one of those kids, he thought. In a special class, I had emotional issues, reading issues and math issues. Yeah, I was a regular walking mess. Charles Lee Ray had more problems than you could shake a yardstick at.

Chucky sat down as he studied Andy's schedule. First class is History at 8:10. Reading the schedule he began to ponder more, deep in thought.

School, It's a lousy concentration camp for kids, especially the kids who need help. You don't get help in school. You get work and stripped of your creativity just to fit into a system that doesn't give a shit about you. He looked up at the clock as it struck 8:00 a.m. The bell rang its spine to start the day.

School, then Chucky said the word.

"School."