I’m still sick, so it’s going to be another quick post, but I’d like to start with a big Thank You to everyone who wished me Happy Birthday and Get Well Soon and all that feel-good jazz last week. It helps, you know. Maybe not in any scientific, observable sense, but as the person who sits around feeling like the scum scraped off a cave troll’s teeth and wiped on the wall, only to be licked off by another cave troll because cave trolls are disgusting, it helps just to know that the whole damn world is not made up of how rotten you feel right now. So thank you. I want to think I’m over the worst of it, but I take a long, long time to recover from anything. My immune system likes to work out it self-esteem issues like one of Those People on Facebook who posts a check-in from the ER and then follows up with a dozen posts saying everything sucks and they don’t want to talk about it. Like, you’re sort of concerned but also sort of annoyed and the more they do it, the harder it is to take it seriously, but unlike actual people on Facebook, you can’t just block posts from your immune system or you’ll wake up one day with a massive bronchial infection.
But I digress. It’s Family Game Night here at the Smomestead and they let me pick the game!
It’s been a long time since I’ve even played the regular Clue and I have to admit that, even though I won, mostly the game just made me want to watch the movie, which if you’ve never seen it, is one of the funniest movies of all time. Admittedly, I have something of a soft spot for Tim Curry (I even liked Congo), so your mileage may vary. I vividly remember legit falling off the couch and lying insensible on the living room floor, just holding my stomach and laughing until I nearly wet ’em the first time I saw this movie. It maybe helps that I was 12, but it still gets some giggles out of me after all these years and hundreds of rewatches.
But I digress. The whole point of tonight’s post is to let everyone know that the latest chapter of my FNAF fanfiction, Everything Is All Right, Part IV: New Faces, Old Bones is up and ready to read over at fanfiction.net and archiveofourown.org, so if you’re reading along, head on over and check it out. If you’re still undecided and think a excerpt might help you make up your mind about whether or not to invest your time in a five-book series based on Scott Cawthon’s horror-game breakout hit, Five Nights at Freddy’s, then you’re in luck!
See you next week!
“What’s crawled up Bon’s tailpipe now, do ye reckon?” Foxy asked, when the silence got too heavy to hold.
“Someone Ana works with has been giving her trouble,” Freddy growled, moving over to peer into the spotlight in the East Hall. The camera there promptly shut off and didn’t come on again anywhere obvious.
“What kind o’ trouble?”
“Bad enough that she told me about it.” Freddy grunted, now heading for the West Hall door. “Not bad enough to do anything about it. Not then, anyway, but it would seem he has since stepped up his game…He’s in the Party Room. He’s watching her.”
“Ye surprised?” Foxy asked, overwhelmingly unconcerned. “Pretty girl, more’n half-insensible. Just his type.”
“What do ye mean, ‘stepped up’?” Foxy asked, watching him from the corner of his so-casual eye. “Push n’ shove? Sticks n’ stones? Pitching a bloke in the quarry under cover o’ darkness?”
“One can only hope, but I doubt it. She’s afraid she’ll lose her job. Then again, she’s lost it before. Once she sobers up, she’ll take it in stride, but Bonnie will probably run hot the rest of the night, so no matter what he says when he comes back, you mind your manners and don’t make a bad situation worse.”
Foxy placed his good hand over the spot where humans kept their hearts, his eyes innocent-wide. “Ye wound me, man!”
“Don’t. It’s not funny.” Freddy shut the door and came back to the stage to pick up the bottle—Bon’s bottle. He grunted and carried it away to the kitchen, calling back, “Bonnie goes black too easily these days. With Ana out of the room, he won’t try as hard to control himself. He’s right on the edge already. Don’t push him.”
Foxy nodded like he was listening, although he couldn’t rightly see Ana being so tore up by losing her grass-cutting privileges as to come all the way out here to cry in her beer over it. Or cry on Bon’s shoulder. Not that she needed much of a reason to snuggle up on Bonnie in the past, but that was before the two of them had split, if they even had. Foxy had never been with a woman long enough to split from one, but even he knew that when one turns up after midnight to ‘watch a movie’ in a bloke’s lap, she was demonstrating a certain willingness to reconcile, if only for the night.
And what had he done about it, the long-eared git? Nothing, that’s what. Hell, if she’d boldly asked him for a screw, old Bon would have gone politely off to fetch one from her toolbox. Idiot.
Freddy appeared sternly in the kitchen doorway. “I said don’t push him.”
“I heard ye. I’ll be on me best behavior, I promise.” Foxy walked over to the stage and picked up Ana’s tablet, still spitting colors and noise. He’d asked her that night, the night she may or may not remember, what might have been if only she’d met him before Bonnie. Well, doubtless there’d be many differences, but one thing was for damn sure: she wouldn’t have spent the night watching movies if she’d come knocking on Foxy’s cabin door.