I wish to state for the record that writing the following chapter was a very painful experience for me, and some of you may find it painful as well. I promise you that things will get better soon.
Foster's Valley - "Retribution, Part Two: Nightmare scenario
"What the (
deleted) are
you doing here?!?!" Frankie yelled. The sudden appearance of this pest did not bode well for her vacation.
"My family was gonna kick me out," Goofball responded. He scratched under an armpit as he strolled inside. Dunno why."
"I can think of a couple reasons," Frankie growled. "Where's your trunk? Have it removed so you could pass yourself off as a real teen?" Her voice was heavy with sarcasm.
Mr. Herriman showed up at that moment. "Did I hear yelling? Oh, hello, Mr. McGee. What brings you back to the House so early in the morning?"
"Well, I'll tell ya:"
"Lost my trunk about a year ago. Some guy callin' himself Toxin or Volkswagon or somethin' grabbed me, dragged me into an alley, and lopped it off with a machete." He winced at the painful memory. "Kept yellin', 'This is for what you did to her.' No idea what he was talkin' about. I didn't do nothin' to no one! And then he beat me over the head with it til I couldn't fight back and then he shoved-"
"Okay, we get it," Frankie interrupted, her tone softened by pity. "Why are you
here?"
"Like I said, my family was gonna kick me out. One night a couple weeks ago they was watchin' TV like always, next thing I know they're talkin' behind my back about sendin' me to that Fester's House." Frankie smirked. Fester's Home for Delinquent Imaginary Friends might've shaped Goofball up a little. He continued. "So the next day I ran away. Didn't know where to go, then I remembered the good times I had here. So here I am! So, um, how 'bout that turkey, eh?"
"Leftovers are in the refridgerator," said Mr. Herriman. "Indeed, it seems you have suffered considerably, but that ends now. Foster's shall keep you housed and fed until we can find you a suitable home."
"Aw, thanks, Mr. H!" Goofball said as he headed for the kitchen.
"I can't believe you're letting him stay here again," Frankie said. "Do you have any idea what he put me through?!"
"You've mentioned it more than once," Mr. Herriman replied testily:
"And apparently you don't care." Frankie's tone was sullen with resentment.
"I think you exaggerated the incident somewhat," said Mr. Herriman. "Look, Miss Francis, I understand that you don't like him and that you've been through a lot in the past 24 hours. We all have. But Foster's does not turn away an Imaginary Friend in need. Just put up with him as best you can and try to focus on your work, and your vacation. Now if you will excuse me, I have some paperwork to attend to. With that he turned and headed for his office.
Frankie just stood there in the dining room, feeling angry and miserable. Exaggerated? She went through hell because of Goofball's uncaring attitude, because of his lack of empathy and consideration for others. Mountains of extra cleaning and shopping, disturbing the baby IFs, going to the concert she'd so been looking forward to and missed because of him... but the worst part was how nobody in the House had stood by her. Yes, she'd been wrong, Goofball was indeed an Imaginary Friend and not a teenage slacker looking for a free ride, but still none of them had made any effort to prove it to her, and Goofball himself had certainly gone out of his way to
not prove he was an IF. She wasn't going to go through all
that again, and she made dang sure he knew that:
"Get this through your thick head, McGee," she said with barely controlled hostility. "You put me through hell the last time you were here, making me do extra work and missing that concert. I am
not going to put up with that kind of crap again. You make my life difficult, well, we've got another IF here by the name of Berry. She's unstable and likes to play with knives. Got it?!"
"Hey, no problem, Frannie, I'm an easy-going guy! Can you get my room ready? I'm beat."
It took Frankie every last ounce of restraint she could muster to keep from hitting him. "My name is
Frankie, she said as she stormed off to prepare his room.
"Sheesh, what's with her?" Goofball wondered as he headed for the living room. Once there he belched loudly:
And settled in to watch reruns of
Ed, Edd and Eddy.
Frankie finished his room and went to bed, exhausted both physically and emotionally, slamming the door behind her and waking Madame Foster in the process. Madame Foster didn't much care to try to go back to sleep, still wound up and wrought with guilt over what she'd done, so she dressed and went downstairs, where she finally met Goofball for the first time:
"Oh, yes, my granddaughter mentioned you some time ago. She was very upset with your behaviour, you know."
"Yeah, she said that. Dunno why, I didn't do nothin' wrong."
"That's not the story I heard, young man."
"I'm an Imaginary Friend, not a man, ma'am."
"Whatever. Frankie is in a very fragile state of mind right now and doesn't need anymore stress than she's already dealing with. Try not to make any trouble for her, okay dearie?"
"Hey, sure, no problem. Can you get me a soda?'
"Get it yourself. Is Mr. Herriman around?"
"Yeah he's in the office or somthin'. Uh, my soda?"
Madame Foster ignored him and went to speak with Mr. Herriman, who had left the office and was now seated at the dining room table:
"Mr. Herriman," she began, "what
really happened when that putz in the other room was here last time?"
"I don't know for certain," Mr. Herriman replied. "Miss Francis claims that he made a great deal of extra work for her. I believed she was exaggerating and forbade her from attending a concert until her work was done. At the time I thought she'd been slacking off but all things considered I'm beginning to wonder. I do still think her claims were exaggerated but perhaps not so much as I'd thought."
"I see. I think something bad is going to happen because of his being here again, but I can't throw him out because of a feeling or because Frankie doesn't like him. I can't turn my back on another IF, like I almost did with you."
"But in the end you found me again, remember? Goodness, that was a long time ago."
"It certainly was." Both smiled, remembering that day in the attic. Goofball, in the meantime, remembered the fine art of making a mess:
And history slowly but surely began to repeat itself.
The next morning Frankie discovered the mess, screamed angrilly, cleaned it up, and confronted her grandmother:
"I want him out of here, Grandma."
"Frankie, I can't do that. It would violate everything I believe in if I were to turn away an IF in need. Just last night I was reminiscing with Mr. Herriman about how I'd almost forgotten about him, about how I'd been living on my own until the day I came home to sell the House and I discovered him living in the attic, waiting all those years for me to come back for him. I was so touched by his loyalty, even after so much time had passed. How could I ever turn my back on a friend like that? How could anyone turn their back on their Imaginary Friend? I promised him I would never do so again, and together we dreamed up the idea of turning the House into a foster home for IFs that weren't so lucky, who's creators couldn't or wouldn't keep them. And I was thinking about you too, dear; I remember how much you wanted an IF of your own but your parents wouldn't let you have one. So I let you hang around here after school, just like Mac used to do, hoping that would be enough. It worked well, I think; you had Wilt as a surrogate father, Eduardo liked to play dolls with you, and Coco... what
did you do with Coco?"
"We made fun of Douglas and Adam. Grandma, Goofball ruined an evening out that I'd really been looking forward to - which is what you brought Bloo into the House to do - and made my life miserable, and it's happening again, and Wilt and the others are starting feeding into it, just like Bloo did last time. I want him gone. You owe me."
Madame Foster sighed unhappily. "If it were anything else, Frankie, I'd do it. But this... I just can't. I can't turn away an IF in need. I'm sorry." She left to be alone in her bedroom and cry. She was hurting Frankie again and she knew it. And she hated herself for it. She hoped Mr. Herriman was right, that this was all just an exaggeration.
Work piled up all day; Goofball, it seemed, was incapable of cleaning up after himself. Frankie was hard-pressed to keep up with the messes; she hadn't worked so hard since the last time Goofball was in the House. Even Bloo had never been quite this bad. The other IFs helped but it wasn't enough, and eventually it caught up with her. And so did Mr. Herriman.
"Miss Francis, didn't I say I wanted the House spotless before you left for your vacation?"
"It
was, until you let that pest in here again." She had a very bad feeling about this.
"I'm sorry, but 'was' isn't good enough. What if a family were to come here, looking to adopt? What would they think, seeing the House in such disarray?"
"That they'd gotten here just in time to 'rescue' an IF from this place."
"Very funny. They'd think that IF's are messy things that need constant attention and are too much work to have around their home. We can't take that chance. Miss Francis, as I've said I know you've suffered greatly because of recent events and do indeed deserve a break, but the House comes first. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid your vacation is cancelled."
Frankie felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. Her knees buckled:
"No, Mr. Herriman, please! You can't do this to me! I need a break!"
"I'm sorry, Miss Francis. My mind is made up."
"Please, Mr. Herriman, I'm begging you! Don't do this!"
"I'm sorry, Miss Francis." With that he turned and left for his office, leaving Frankie in tears. He now understood what Madame Foster meant about hating herself.
"Not again," Frankie sobbed. "Not again..."
(
To be continued...)