The Flea Incident
Bendy and Boris were peacefully sitting in their apartment living room.
Or at least Bendy was peaceful.
Boris was scratching himself.
At first Bendy ignored it.
A scratch on the arm.
Another on the shoulder.
One behind the ear.
Normal.
Probably.
Bendy kept talking while flipping through a magazine.
Scratch scratch scratch.
Bendy glanced up briefly.
Boris casually scratched the side of his neck aggressively enough to shake the couch.
“…You good?”
“Hm?” Boris answered absentmindedly before scratching again. “Yeah.”
Bendy narrowed his eyes slightly.
The conversation continued.
For about three more minutes.
Then Boris started scratching like a man possessed.
Leg kicking.
Head jerking.
Neck clawing.
At one point he scratched so violently he almost fell sideways off the couch.
Bendy slowly lowered the magazine.
Now his brain was running through possibilities.
Dry skin?
Allergic reaction?
Stress?
New detergent?
Please not fleas.
Anything but fleas.
Boris meanwhile had reached the point where he looked seconds away from removing his own fur manually.
“BORIS.”
“Hm?”
“You’re scratching a lot.”
“I’m fine.”
SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH.
Bendy stared.
“…You are literally vibrating.”
“I SAID I’M FINE.”
Bendy stood up and walked closer.
Boris immediately got suspicious.
“…Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like a doctor.”
“That’s offensive.”
Bendy gently moved some fur near Boris’s neck—
—and froze.
There was a tiny bald spot.
Bendy’s eye twitched.
No.
No no no no.
Please no.
Then he saw it.
A tiny black insect disappearing into Boris’s fur.
Silence.
Horrified silence.
Boris slowly looked up.
Bendy slowly looked back at him.
The betrayal in Bendy’s eyes was immediate.
“…Boris.”
Boris sensed danger instantly.
“…No.”
Five minutes later—
Boris turned around after hearing suspicious cabinet noises.
And there stood Bendy.
Wearing rubber gloves.
A face mask.
Holding flea shampoo.
Boris gasped in horror.
“NO.”
“YOU HAVE FLEAS.”
“IT’S JUST ONE.”
“ONE?!” Bendy screeched. “ONE MEANS THERE’S A THOUSAND.”
Boris immediately bolted.
“GET BACK HERE.”
The apartment descended into chaos.
Furniture moved.
Something shattered in the kitchen.
Boris sprinted across the living room while scratching desperately.
Bendy chased him.
“YOU’RE NOT TOUCHING THE COUCH.”
“THEY’RE MY FLEAS NOW LEAVE ME ALONE—”
“THAT IS NOT HOW THIS WORKS.”
Boris almost reached the hallway before Bendy tackled him to the ground.
“BETRAYAL,” Boris cried from the floor.
“You’re literally infested.”
Bendy somehow managed to wrestle a flea collar around Boris’s neck while Boris acted like he was being publicly executed.
“I HATE YOU.”
“Hold still.”
“I’M ITCHY.”
“I KNOW.”
Then came the bath.
Which somehow was worse.
Boris DESPISED medical shampoo.
The smell.
The cold water.
The scrubbing.
Everything.
And Bendy, fully committed to biological warfare at this point, refused to let him escape.
Every time Boris tried climbing out of the tub, Bendy shoved him back down.
“STOP MOVING.”
“IT SMELLS LIKE OLD PEOPLE.”
“THAT MEANS IT WORKS.”
“MY EYES ARE BURNING.”
“THAT’S DRAMATIC.”
“I’M DYING.”
“You have fleas, not the plague.”
At one point Boris shook himself violently like a wet dog and accidentally soaked Bendy completely.
Bendy stood there dripping wet in absolute silence.
Boris immediately knew he made a mistake.
“…I can explain.”
“You’re getting a second wash.”
“NO—”
By the end of the ordeal Boris smelled strongly like medicated soap and sadness.
But Bendy still wasn’t satisfied.
So off to the doctor they went.
And unfortunately for Boris…
the doctor agreed with Bendy completely.
Now Boris sat miserably on the couch wearing:
A cone.
A flea collar.
And medicated cream on the bald spot near his neck.
He looked deeply offended by life itself.
Every few seconds he tried removing the cone only to fail spectacularly.
THUNK.
“…I hate this family.”
Then the apartment door opened.
Cuphead and Mugman walked in.
Both froze instantly.
Silence.
Then Cuphead wheezed.
Mugman physically bent over laughing.
“Oh my GOD.”
“BORIS WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?!”
Boris glared murderously.
“This is abuse.”
“You smell like my grandpa’s medicine cabinet,” Cuphead cried laughing.
Mugman wiped tears from his eyes. “Why’s the cone so BIG?”
“BECAUSE BENDY HATES ME.”
Bendy walked out of the kitchen sipping coffee calmly.
“He had fleas.”
The twins exploded.
Cuphead nearly collapsed onto the floor laughing while Mugman pointed at Boris’s cone.
“You look like a satellite dish.”
Boris stood up furiously.
“That’s IT.”
He tried storming toward them angrily—
—and immediately smacked face-first into the wall because the cone blocked part of his vision.
THONK.
The room went silent for one second.
Then the twins screamed laughing even harder.
Cuphead was literally on the floor.
Mugman couldn’t breathe.
Even Bendy had to turn away to hide his laughter.
Meanwhile Boris just stood there staring at the wall in complete defeat.
“…I hate all of you.”
