May 9, 2017
The Raging Redd (Part 2)
[Part 1] [Yellow Dept Update]
“Heh. An’ they told me that keepin’ th’stale Holiday Fruit Cakes was a bad idea. Whose laughin’ now.”
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The Raging Redd (Part 2)
[Part 1] [Yellow Dept Update]
“Heh. An’ they told me that keepin’ th’stale Holiday Fruit Cakes was a bad idea. Whose laughin’ now.”
The Raging Redd (part 1)
[ATTENTION YELLOW DEPARTMENT EMPLOYEES. WE ARE ON CODE RED. REDDINGTON IS ACCELERATING UPWARD AT AN ALARMING RATE. DISREGARD ALL DUTIES, AND EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY. SECURITY OFFICERS WILL BE AROUND FOR ASSISTANCE]
“Huh. Reddin’ton? Ain’ he th’maintence one...? Y’don’ think this has anythin’ t’do with that lil’....tantrum I threw in Orange right? I mean, it was a wall ‘er two... but...”
“Do not worry, my Chim, what went by was not your fault, and the blame is passed. You must quickly gather your coworkers and leave the building.”
“Y’know come t’think of it, that guy ain’t--”
“Wai-wai-wait... YER th’bad one? Aren’t ya supposed t’have a costume or somethin’? Y’just look like me, ‘cept y’got ‘BAD’ written on ya in sharpie...”
“YOU KIDDIN’ ME?! THIS IS WHAT YER STUCK ON?! Y’already got horns, a pointy tail, an’ lil’ flappy davil wings. What more y’want outta me, a freakin’ pitchfork?!”
“Listen, Gumdrop! Y’dang pissed off th’meanest mauve marauder in this whole buildin’. An’ now he’s marchin’ his red rump up t’meetcha in person. F’get yer sorry coworkers, get yer stuff an’ vamoose, before Clifford th’Big Red Anger Management Case punches y’lights inta th’ next dimensional void!”
“Yeah, the other guy has a point. You really dammed the beaver on this one.”
“R-right....so get my stuff, an’ get out. Sounds easy enough...”
PART 2: HERE
Mr. Chim was already a rubberhose character, lets be honest. I just gave him pants.
[PREVIOUS POST]
★ Do not worry, my child. It is over. I am here… ★
0/5
THE BABY M!A IS NOW OVER However, Mr. Chim i looking a little under the weather. Asks will be answered by…well, this mysterious figure, until he feels better.
((Note: Mr. Chim is not immune to any incoming punishments for the recent chaos. He is simply being controlled and contained within the Mailroom))
Dreaming
Mr. Chim stubs his toe on a mail cart in the middle of the night
"GAH!" he swears before shooting it a glare.
His gaze drifts around the darkened mailroom. There was no one up at this hour. Everyone went home. To their friends. To their families. And here sat Mr. Chim. Alone, stubbing his tiny teensy toes on sleeping mimicry. Why was he even awake? Just wandering, like he liked to do.
He'd peek into Chartreuse and check to see if the drink locks were tight. He'd poke around Orange for a left-over snack. He'd wander up to Blue to watch a monitor or two, and stave his anxiety that he wasn't the only one here.
...Nope, all clear, as usual.
He'd peek at the door to Indigo, and flutter through Amber. He thought Amberose stayed late, as he office door always hummed with a musical touch, but he was never sure.
And then to Vermilion, where'd put on a small show, just to tickle that long lost producer inside of him. Maybe just a solo or two, before he was off to the chutes, or elevators again. Which ever was closer.
Green owned an hour or two of his. He'd sit on a bench, and watch the stars. He was never sure if the sunroof was real or magical, and never dared to challenge the illusion.
And soon, before he'd know it, the elevator would ding, and he'd be back home in his Yellow department. He'd flutter over cubicles, and weave between chairs, before he'd find his way back to the mailroom. And like any other night, the imp took a moment to stop. The notes on the wall. The sleeping mimics lining the floor. The mail pile, ready to be sorted with the rising sun. It was quiet as always, (barring the snoring from cart number 5) and just as alone as any other night.
In all of his years. Hundreds upon thousands, in all of his years, he'd never really had a home. A handler. An Owner. A master with a cage. A tower. A dungeon. An alley for it's range. But never before, never once before Yellowneous took that contract, had he had a place to call home. Even though it was strange, and tousled, and prone to explosions here and there, REM's mailroom was the first place the imp could settle down and know that his worries of the day were safe to melt away until the rising sun of the next day to come.
The pink imp snorted. There he went again, getting sentimental over a stinky ol' mailroom. How many times is he going to do this before it gets old? More importantly, how many times is Padge going to leave his cart in the middle of the room? With a flick of his tail, the old curmudgeon sent the cart wheeling off to its resting place, and set off to the locked door labeled "Mr. Chim". He squirmed his way under the crack below the door, since the key had been long since gone, and POP-ed into his office. The oversized desk. The awkward shrine. And his little teapot home. As usual, he had only a few hours before the others came onto their shifts, but he figured it was time for a rest. So the tiny imp fluttered his way to the kettle, popping its top, and pulling the string to his lamp.
Goodnight, REM.
“Sorryfer th’absences, my adorin’ fans. I had a date lass’ night. Th’ol’ Mr. Chim cleans up don’ he?”
I will punt the child(?) like a football
4/5
"Hey pink guy have you seen Oogie? I was gonna ask them if they wanted to go to the bar and hang out." -cursedmouthgall
“What? Th’ cat one? Prolly still out on ‘er deliveries. That one takes ferevah t’get her rounds done. Distracted! Thass what she is. Always gettin’ pulled this way an’ that. Wouldn’ be surprised if th’chaos upstairs has got her fergettin’ her rounds. If yer lookin’ fer that dust-mite, I’d look there. Also tell’er t’send one’a th’other mail-mons down here, I’m done with my sortin’ shift.”