In a world much like the Muppets, puppets co-exist with humans. Although the colorful ensemble of characters from the beloved children’s TV show portrays themselves as sweet, educational, fun-loving personas-- when they aren’t on the air, they happen to get themselves into quite a lot of mischief. And you, the lucky individual that you are, have been contracted as their Caretaker to ensure these chaotic puppet actors stay on schedule and don’t put themselves in situations that could cause bad publicity.

You walked off set after speaking to one of the producers as the show had wrapped up earlier than expected. This made it easier to schedule the upcoming appointments you had meticulously organized around the otherwise busy puppet’s schedules. With clipboard in hand, you made your way over to the break area, where most of the cast members were chatting with stagehands, makeup artists, or lounging in their deck chairs.

“All right everyone!” You clapped your hands together to garner the attention of the cast, all eyes turning to you except for Barnaby standing over the spread table, hungrily grabbing at the box of doughnuts one of the interns had placed out. You deadpan at him before shouting his name, earning an audible hmph?! as the blue mass turned to look at you, a sprinkled doughnut hanging from his mouth, with two others in hand.

“Okaaaay—now that I have everyone’s attention, we have an early flight to catch tomorrow for our meeting with our studio associates, which will take place later in the afternoon once we’ve arrived.” You scan the break area to ensure they’re still listening, amused by Julie and Sally as they respond with shared squeals, already chatting about plans to sightsee the area and meet their adoring fans. Their bubbly response caused you to grin momentarily, before turning serious.

“That means! You all need to be awake, packed, and ready to go at 6 A.M. sharp.” You say sternly, now earning loud groans from a few of the puppets.

“Okay, okay.” You waved your hand dismissively to the choir of complaints. You didn’t know why they were complaining, considering they usually wake up this early in the morning to start the show. Rolling your eyes, you let out a breath, mentally preparing for whatever shenanigans these puppets will pull on you later. “You guys have the rest of the day to relax since it’s only 2 P.M. right now. Just remember, we need to stick to the schedule. I don’t want to have to explain myself to the Manager if things derail.”

With a resounding “All right” from everyone, you went your parting ways and continued to work out the schedule’s details. “Also! Julie, you better pack light! We are only staying for two days, so don’t bring your whole wardrobe with you—again…” You called after her, ignoring her refusal to do so.

[Next Day: 5:41 A.M.]

You grabbed your duffle bag, slinging it over your shoulder before grabbing the briefcase on your way out of your small apartment. Before descending the stairs of the apartment building, you turn back in to grab your coffee, yawning in the process. “Ugh, gonna be a long day.” You murmur to yourself, the lingering drowsiness from slumber not yet leaving your body. You check the time on your phone as you take a gentle sip. You only lived a 7-minute walk away from the set, which you were grateful for since (1) You didn’t own a car and (2) The Studio provided you with lodging once you agreed to be the cast’s Caretaker. The pay was all right considering the added bonuses of what the Studio provided for you, although, it’s probably due in part to the various applicants that had been hired and then immediately quit due to their lack of ability to actually wrangle the cast from committing any sort of war crimes. (Guess the Studio needed to give some sort of incentive for someone to fill the role). Taking on the task was daunting at first since you quickly learned how eager the members were to push boundaries. You didn’t necessarily blame them for being curious since there was still so much of the world they wanted to learn about. Of course, this made your job more difficult to handle at times.

[5:53 A.M.]

You walked through the studio’s hallways, quietly greeting good mornings to other studio employees as you passed. The meeting location for everyone was in room 2A, usually reserved for auditions, but opened for you to ensure everyone came on time. Arriving at the room, you saw that most of the members had already arrived. Poppy, sitting comically large on one of the chairs and leaning against the wall as she continued to sleep. Barnaby and Wally both lazily tapping on their phones; Frank and Eddie who were both reading; Howdy who had just strolled in with a loud yawn, and…. Julie and Sally? Who weren’t even here yet. Of course, knowing them Sally would come in ‘dramatically’ late, as per usual, and Julie would usually stroll along. You greet those who were already there good morning, earning a few mumbled good mornings in return and a quiet snore from Poppy. You leaned against the wall next to the entrance, taking out your schedule:

6 A.M. - morning roll call

6:10 A.M.- arrive to cars

6:30 A.M. - board private jet

8:30 A.M. (projected arrival time)

9:00 A.M. – early check-in

-

-

-

1:30 P.M. – production meeting

-

-

-

5:30 P.M. – dinner reservation (for self)

-

-

You nod, everything was still on track for the most part… Sally would soon come in beaming and entered the room with a loud, sing-songy “I’m here!”, followed by the same response as the heaving Julie dragged an absurdly stuffed suitcase in tow. The sudden intrusion caused Poppy to jolt awake, everyone else looking over as the pair came in. You glanced at the time, 6:12 A.M.

“You’re late…and I told you to pack light--” You comment, shaking your head gently as the two tried to begin explaining. Raising a hand to stop them, you turned to everyone with a small smile, went over the plans for travel, and ushered them all to the awaiting cars outside.

[8:32 A.M. Landing]

As the jet landed, everyone deplaned and entered the cars that would transport them to the hotel. Once you have all arrived at the hotel, you check everyone in, soon giving them each their own room keys on the same floor. You gave them all a nod of approval as you all entered the elevator and went up to the 14th floor. You all agreed to meet in the lobby after freshening up to discuss any further plans. As you waved to them, you entered your room and took in the welcoming atmosphere. Plush pillows, clean sheets, a stocked mini fridge, a desk, a great window view, and a bathroom full of high-quality amenities you would surely take back home. (No one’s going to miss a few small bottles of shampoo and conditioner anyway). You place your briefcase on the desk, plop the duffle bag on the chair, and throw yourself onto the inviting bed. With arms spread wide, you inhale sharply as you stretch, sighing in contentment for a moment. The temporary silence gave your much-needed overworked mind some peace, before going into the bathroom to get ready. You would soon greet everyone with a much chippier attitude as they had all been waiting for you in the lobby area. You took notice as more guests began to enter the hotel, some with young children excitedly pointing out Wally and the others, pleading to meet them as their tired parents tried to calm their resounding squeaks. It was times like these when you got a break, witnessing the excitement and wonder of fans felt endearing. You were with a group of celebrities after all. Trying to keep a low profile was, unfortunately, not an option in your field of work.

“So, what do you guys want to do?” Eddie inquires. Everyone began throwing out ideas, Julie insisting they go shopping; Frank, who commented on a museum exhibit; Sally wanting to check out the old (presumably haunted) theaters; Howdy and Poppy bouncing ideas about taking a tour downtown; and Barnaby mentioning an all-you-can-eat buffet. The overwhelming chatter droned out your thoughts as everyone turned to you, arguing that they “Should do this!”, “No, this—“, “Care, I want to—“. You tried hushing everyone as their voices became increasingly loud in volume, garnering more attention from the hotel guests as their rambunctious natures were disturbing the ease of the lobby.

“Hold on, hold on. We only really have three more hours before we go to the meeting, so we might not be able to do everything today—” You try to console everyone, your response not satisfying the puppets as they began bickering amongst themselves. You heard a few complaints that you were being too ‘strict’, too ‘uptight’, ‘just relax a bit will ya, we’ve got time’. You huff, knowing you needed them all together since they’d do ‘who knows what’ when apart from you. Maybe you should just ask to be promoted from Caretaker to Glorified Babysitter at this point, the title is more suitable. You attempted to hush them again, only to be met with more insistence that they do “this idea, or that”. You could barely put a word in as your eyes slowly fell on Wally, who in his usual laid-back manner, said nothing. Simply observing the conversations and locking eyes on you.

You could tell by his demeanor, mischievous grin on his face, he was brewing up a plan. Your eyes narrow, squinting at him as you both engaged in a stare-down. “Don’t—” You emphasized, everyone else taking notice and silently watching. “Wally. Do not—”

“Scatter.”

“I said-- Ah!--?!” Before you could protest, you were encased in oversized blue arms, Barnaby coming up to give you a hug from behind, his chuckles booming loudly in your ears. He picked you up slightly, your legs kicking as you tried yelling for them all to “Get back here!”. Both Sally and Julie bolted for the entrance, waving hello and goodbye to those they passed by; Howdy and Poppy scuttled away, continuing to chat; Frank and Eddie looked at each other before heading to the museum, as Wally sneakily exited stage left. You went limp in Barnaby’s arms, cheeks red with frustration as you slowly descended back onto your feet. He chuckled, patting your shoulder (insult to injury).

“You know kid, you should just take it easy. We finally have some downtime, just let ‘em go and have some fun. Same with you, see you in a bit.” He chimed, walking off to the hotel’s restaurant.

You stood there in defeat, running your hands up and down your face before pinching the bridge of your nose. As expected, it was gonna be a long day indeed.

[2:03 P.M. Associates Meeting]

“Shouldn’t they have been here already?”

“Yeah, I tried calling Care, but they hadn’t respo—”

You burst into the meeting room, hair disheveled, breathing heavy with Wally and Julie tucked under your arms while the rest of the members stood behind you with smiles and greetings. You stomped in, some of the associates just staring as you plopped the two in their seats as the others strolled in before settling down themselves. You said nothing, cheeks hot and nostrils flared before clearing your throat and smoothing your hair. You move off to the side, taking refuge in the seat placed against the wall. You finally slump, head tilted back and resting on the wall as the meeting began.

.

.

The studio was as energetic as ever. Production had halted due to technical difficulties that needed to be resolved. You lazily sat on one of the deck chairs, elbow on the armrest, cheek leaning against your palm as you scanned across the set and watched some of the cast members. You were glad to get a break and off your feet.

[Eyes first land on Sally]

Sally was going over the script, suggesting certain scenes to be revised with the Director, and penciling in changes.

Sally: “I just think we really should include a song during this scene, making it more—lively, ya know?”  

You overheard her conversation, chuckling as the Director gave her a puzzled look. You weren’t sure how much more ‘lively’ the show could be with the beautiful array of bright colors and every other episode already containing musical numbers. “Oh! Maybe even a dance sequence—”

[Eyes pan towards Poppy]

You watched as the red fluff of feathers hummed to herself, sitting near a basket of props. You couldn’t tell what she was doing exactly, but it looked like she was probably knitting something? Well, she had her hobbies outside of teaching children their ABC’s.

[Next, you saw Julie]

Julie: “Howdy-ho neighbors! Come tour the Welcome Home set with me!”

A small smile formed on your lips as you watched the bubbly puppet hold her phone slightly above her face as she chatted with fans on her live feed.

Your eyes trained on her for a minute as she walked about, introducing some of the wardrobe designers and makeup artists that work on her outfits, looks, and so on. As she moved on, you kept watching as Julie draped an arm around Wally’s shoulders before he could snatch up one of the apples sitting at the spread table, adjusting her phone so both were in the frame of view.

Julie: “Wally Darling, say hello to everyone!”

Wally: “Well hello dear neighbors! Hope you’re all looking forward to the next episode.” He waved, smiling.

Barnaby soon came up from behind the two with a large grin, saying hello as well. You could tell the chat was going absolutely insane getting to interact with them. You giggled at their antics, happy that they got to spend some time with people from all around the world, even if it wasn’t during one of their face-to-face meet-and-greets.

Probably one of the many things you admired about them.

Although sometimes crazy (and difficult to handle), they were always dedicated to entertaining the masses with wholesome content. On camera anyhow. It was your job to make sure no scandalous rumors ended up in the media; constantly protecting their image off screen. You’d hate to see the show canceled, especially since you were dedicated not only to the basis of the show but because you deeply cared for them.

Julie: “Oh! Barnaby, someone asked how many things you’re able to juggle at once.”

Barnaby: “Well, let’s see. Hey, lil’ buddy, toss me a few of those apples will ya?”

Julie released her light hold on Wally, flipping the camera so she could point the phone toward the pair. She stepped back as Wally began gently tossing a few apples in Barnaby’s direction. The blue mass caught them with ease, beginning to juggle. 1…2...3…4….

Barnaby: “Ha! Too easy, c’mon, toss me a few more.”

Julie: “Oh, oh! Someone also said to make it more challenging.”

Wally: “Guess we just have to give our dear neighbors what they’re asking for.” He muses, scanning the spread table and grabbing one of the bananas, then tossing it toward Barnaby.

Again, catching it with ease, Barnaby chuckled as he nodded toward the soda cans. Wally picked one up, tossing them his way.

Barnaby: “…5….6!” The juggling continued, items being tossed a bit higher to make some space as he caught and tossed, and tossed, and tossed.

Julie: “Think you can handle any more?”

Barnaby: “I’m the Great Barnaby B. Beagle, nothing can stop me now!”

Wally looked over, pondering what to toss his friend next. He decided on some sunglasses, then grabbed one of the bowling pin props and a small stress ball out of a box one of the stagehands was carrying as they scooted by.

Wally: “…7…8….9….”

You continued to watch, tilting your head up slightly as Barnaby’s juggling began to waver and then steady.

Barnaby: “Let’s make it an even 10. Toss me one more please.”

There weren’t many other options readily available until Wally saw one of the saran-wrapped sandwiches on the table. Picking it up, he tossed it but misjudged the distance as Barnaby jolted to catch it. Stepping forward, he caught it, but it threw off the balance of the juggled circle and the items began slightly leaning more and more until Barnaby began staggering toward you.

You perked up, stiffening. You noticed he was moving toward one of the cables on the floor, which was unfortunately not taped down to prevent a tripping hazard.

Caretaker: “Barnaby, wait—”

Too late.

Barnaby: “Whoa--!” The puppet’s foot was caught underneath the cable, the apples, banana, sandwich, sunglasses, bowling pin prop, stress ball, and can of soda flying in your direction.

Everything crashed down around you, save for the soda can, which plummeted right in front of you. The sheer velocity of the aluminum can hitting the ground had enough force to burst, a steady, but violent stream of soda onto your face. (Did everything that went wrong have to be an overly exaggerated gag bit?)

You held your hands out to try and shield yourself, aggressively coughing as you accidentally inhaled the fizzy beverage through your nose. After what felt like an eternity, it finally stopped blasting in your face.

Both Wally and Julie were immediately by your side, asking if you were okay, while Barnaby repeatedly apologized from the ground. You could hear the commotion around you as Sally ran to grab a towel, Poppy squawking in concern somewhere in the background.

Wally: “Care, are you okay?” He asked, reaching over, and gently placing a hand on your arm. “Are you hurt—” He stopped, eyes widening slightly as you began to laugh under your breath, which soon turned into loud, boisterous laughter.

You didn’t quite open your eyes since the soda stung, but you couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Doubling over, you just couldn’t stop yourself from cracking up. Both Wally and Julie sighed in relief, smiling as you confirmed you were okay. As you calmed down from your fit of laughter, you thanked Sally for the towel and wiped your face.

Wally: “Well, I’m glad you’re alright Caretaker. It’s also nice to see you having more fun.”

Julie: “Yeah! You have such a wonderful laugh! You should do that more often.”

Barnaby: “Pfft—you call that a laugh? It was more of like a goose hon—” His mouth shut automatically as you gave the blue puppet a warning glance. “Uh.. ha, ha, ha. I mean, your laugh is fantastic Care!” He backtracked before standing and looking you over. Placing his hands on his hips, he shifted his weight to one leg, smiling down at you. “But, it does sound refreshing to finally have you let loose.”

You shake your head, wrapping the towel around your shoulders.

Julie: “Oh! Right!” Julie swapped her phone camera again, leaning closer and placing you both in the frame. “Hey, hey neighbors! Crisis averted! They’re A-O.K.! But let me also introduce you to the most important member of the Welcome Home Cast! This is our dear Caretaker! They work super hard!”

Wally: “That’s right. They always take great care of us.” He adds, leaning closer despite the threat of getting his felt sticky.

Sally: “And they’re super cool!”

Barnaby: “Not to mention, a real spitfire.” He nudged your shoulder gently once he made his way to you.

At this point, Poppy, Eddie, Howdy, and Frank had appeared, joining in the cascade of praises. You were a bit too stunned to speak, not quite used to being complimented so much. You definitely weren’t anticipating this. You were skeptical at first, but their words were truly genuine as each of the cast members looked over to you with smiles reaching all the way up to their eyes. You heard and saw the swift pings of comments from the fans, not being able to read all of them, but catching a glimpse of the ‘hello Caretaker’, ‘keep doing your best’, and ‘you’re incredible’.

Caretaker: “I… thank you….” You replied sheepishly, feeling your face begin to flush. You reached up, grabbing one of the ends of the towel that was wrapped around your shoulders, bringing it up to your nose to hide the blush that had formed.

All cast members, in unison: “No, thank YOU, Caretaker!”

[Bonus]

“Care! Hey, hey! Care--?! Hey! Caretaker! Heeeeeeeeeey!” Julie wails, following behind as you try to ignore her and focus on the task at hand.

No matter how many times you try to address the blonde, she pulls you away from what needs to be done, to what she wants to do. It’s become a bit of an irritating habit, although you’re convinced it’s her hobby, to distract you from your job so you can entertain her grabs for attention.

“Not now Julie, I have a lot of work to do, but I promise I’ll do whatever it is you’re wanting once I’ve got more time—”

“No, I need you now. The new dress I had ordered still hasn’t arrived and I—”

You drone out her increasing insistence, beginning to pick up the pace as you swerved through the crowd of studio employees and other puppets. Unfortunately, the moment the others sight you, the choir of:

“Hey Care—”

“--need you here—”

“Can you fix—”

“Get me some—”

You stop in your tracks, feeling Julie bump into you from behind. With your binder tucked close to your chest, your hands tighten around it. The overwhelming demands from the maintenance team, stagehands, cameramen, and puppets made you fume. It was obvious from your face how feelings of annoyance had now turned into full-blown anger. You tried steadying your breath, feeling the heat prickle at your cheeks, and reminding yourself to remain professional, you need this job, it pays the bills… it pays the bills…it pays the bills….

“Hold on!” You boom, causing the voices to settle. You stand your ground, steeling yourself as you take a breath. “I am extremely busy right now—” You strain, each word slow, with brows furrowed and jaw tight. “Sooo-- I’d appreciate it if you all stop pestering me for a moment, because if I hear one more per—”

“Hey, Care?” Barnaby interjects, poking his head out of the restroom door.

Your mouth shuts, head snapping around to look at him. “What?!”

“I clogged the toilet,” Barnaby responds monotonously, thumb pointing toward inside the restroom, as water slowly began trickling its way outside.

The grip around your binder tightens even more to the point you felt like you could have ripped it in half. Your eyes narrow into a glare, tight lips twitching up into a menacing grin.

“So uh… could you fix it?” Barnaby probes, moving away from the slow leak of water pooling around his feet.

“Please excuse me for a moment…” You seethe, quickly and silently moving your way toward one of the audio control rooms, knowing the padded walls would shield your outbursts. Upon arrival, you slammed the binder down onto the script stand, causing it to wobble and tilt over.

That was the last straw.

You bring your arms up, flailing them around as you release your rage. “What the actual [redacted]?! I just need to do one [redacted] thing! One thing! But nooooooo--! I can’t catch a [redacted] break around here! And why the [redacted] would Barnaby clog the toilet?! PUPPETS DON’T EVEN NEED TO USE THE [redacted] TOILET?!”

You heaved, palming your forehead for a second before sliding your hand over your eyes. You took a few deep breaths to soothe yourself until you heard an audible click and the sound designer over the two-way speaker.

“You, uh, okay in there?”

You drop your hand down to your mouth, eyes darting open to see not only the sound designer but a few of the puppets and two other employees who followed you to your location, staring at you from behind the glass.

You stared back.

Julie had arched a brow, crossing her arms over her chest in disapproval.

Wally’s half-lidded, unwavering, eyes peered at you. “Those are some naughty words there...” He commented, his voice crackling a bit through the speaker. Though, reading his expression you could tell he was a bit amused.

“Yes dear, you really should watch your language.” Poppy chimes, as everyone else in the sound room nods in agreement.

Standing there for a moment longer, you finally gave up. Picking up your binder and setting the script stand back up in place, you walk through the door into the sound room, staying silent as Barnaby stepped toward you with a plunger in hand.

“I found this if it’ll help with the toilet—”

You didn’t say anything as you walked past him, only extending a hand, and swiping the plunger from his grasp. You moved on through the exit.

[BONUS]

Barnaby and Wally both stood outside the restroom door, peering in and watching as you muttered curses under your breath and violently plunged the toilet to unclog whatever ungodly thing Barnaby stuffed in there.

Wally: “So, uh, Barnaby?”

Barnaby: “Yeah lil’ buddy?”

Wally: “What did you put in there?”

Barnaby: “Just a bunch of leftover doughnuts from the spread table.”

Wally: “…Why?”

Barnaby, shrugging: “Wanted to see what would happen…”

.

.

It first began on a warm Tuesday afternoon.

You stood there outside, writing in a yellow-covered journal as you watched through the window of the bakery café; the blue-haired man glancing up at you every so often as he kneaded the dough. At one point, the both of you had made eye contact and he watched as you smiled. You pointed toward his motions and then pointed at your book with a slight tilt of your head as if asking permission to take notes.

Wally nodded, a smile of his own forming on his lips in return before going back to work on evenly distributing the dough. You continued to take notes, sometimes carefully mimicking some of his movements in the air as if committing to memory the way the dough needed to be handled. You’d be there for about an hour before placing your journal into your satchel, tucking the pencil behind your ear, and waving goodbye. Wally simply grinned, nodding in reply as you walked away.

This continued every week for the next three months.

Like clockwork, you were there every Tuesday afternoon as the café side bustled with life; customers shuffling in or out with pastries, coffees, or teas. Wally had become accustomed to your presence, albeit through the bakery’s window. He wondered why you simply didn’t come in to ask him questions about his work... or why you never seemed to come into the establishment during this time.

The other workers happened to take notice as well, but he assured them it was not an issue, and he didn’t want anyone to pry. He assumed you were wanting to learn how to bake, perhaps even explore new culinary skills. He may not know the extent of your situation, but he was always happy to teach, as you had always been enthusiastic to learn.

You’d watch, you’d write, and then you’d both exchange goodbyes. He didn’t realize when he’d stop working on whatever he was doing to simply watch you walk away to whatever destination you were headed to next.  

.

.

Every Tuesday afternoon, he began anticipating your return.

He didn’t quite show how excited he was, maintaining his cool demeanor, yet mindlessly fiddling with the strings of his apron. As the clock ticked closer to the predetermined time, he would prepare his area, having a different recipe or lesson at the ready.

You had even started noticing the little things he did, perking with curiosity. Some days there would be a recipe for whatever he was making during that time, laid out in front of your view; a list of ingredients meticulously written out in what you assumed was his handwriting.

Was he sharing his trade secrets with you?

You would read through the list of items, jotting them down quickly before watching as he began creating the batch of goods. Whenever Wally shared one of his recipes though, he’d patiently wait until you were done writing before showing you how to measure and make.

On other days he’d start showing off, tossing dough in the air, or elaborately packaging whole loaves of bread for orders. Sometimes he’d get a bit carried away, getting flour in his hair, or accidentally dropping an egg on the floor. He’d shift his eyes toward you to catch a glimpse of your reaction, always earning a giggle or stifling a laugh in your hand before continuing to write away in that yellow journal of yours. His cheeks would dust rouge in embarrassment, but honestly, Wally was glad he had an audience, especially one as devoted as you.

Sometimes, a bittersweet taste would settle on his tongue as the hour would end and you’d retreat into the world while he stayed behind the glass. Your figure would be lost within the crowd of people walking up and down the sidewalk, colors of various shades blending and muting into the background.

He wondered what you did every Tuesday morning before coming to the bakery, and what you did after when your time together would end.

Maybe he’d ask you one of these days, but for now, he enjoyed the wordless company.

.

.

Twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes past your usual arrival time.

You hadn’t shown up yet and the ticking of the clock began to make him restless.

Wally started to wonder if you were no longer available, or maybe, no longer interested in stopping by. A few different scenarios had swirled in his mind from you being at work, maybe school, having gotten hurt, maybe sick? Why was he so concerned about a complete stranger? Neither one of you even knew the other’s name.

Yet… he felt his chest tighten, disappointment prickling at his skin.

Surely, you were just running late today?

He stared at the counter; his mind lost in thought. He didn’t hear the familiar dings of the bell when the front door opened as you stepped inside, yellow journal in hand. He had only looked up when he heard Julie’s voice greet you from the register.

“Finally decided to come inside instead of watching through the window, huh?” Julie chimed.

You laughed in response, the sound filling the bakery with warmth.

Wally’s cheeks lifted as a smile formed on his lips, eyes falling on you. Feelings of elation and relief both washed over him in waves.

He stood still. The world around him seemed to burst into vibrant hues of light. Soft yellows, pinks, and mellow blues dance around you. He continued to watch you in adoration as you placed a drink order and made your way to one of the small tables near the corner of the café.

“It’s not polite to stare you know,” Poppy spoke up from behind him, causing him to turn and stutter in response. She smiled at him and shook her head. “Why not just say hello?” She encouraged, earning a defeated sigh from the man.

Wally took off his apron, hanging it up. “You’re right…” he mused, dusting himself off. “I’m going to take a break…”

“Take all the time you need dear,” Poppy replied, taking over the kitchen.

He carefully made his way over.

.

.

You were comfortably seated in the corner, reading through your writings as you sipped your drink. Setting the cup down, you looked over to the man making his way to you. You gave him a smile as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Mind if I join you for a bit?” he asked, a bit hesitant.

“I don’t mind at all.” You spoke sweetly, gesturing for him to sit.

Wally pulled out the chair across from you, settling down as well. Eyes panning down to your journal, he pointed a finger in its direction. “May I?”

“Oh! Of course.” You chuckled, moving the journal toward him. He began turning through the pages in awe of the detailed notes, scribbles, and even sketches of the baked goods he shared with you.

“Wow, this is incredible.” He breathed, “You even captured some of the techniques I use when I bake…”

“Yeah, I really wanted to make sure I got it right, ya know?” You confessed before clicking your tongue, “…But… whenever I try to bake something myself, it doesn’t seem to turn out right…” You mulled over the words, leaning forward to rest your arms on the table as you watched him read.

After a moment, he looked up at you in understanding before setting the journal back on the table. “Well, if you are interested, I’d be more than happy to teach you one-on-one here in the bakery, so you aren’t just watching from outside.”

“Really?” You squeaked, a bit more loudly than intended, earning a few looks your way. You gave him a sheepish grin, nodding. “Thank you… I would absolutely love that, but…”

“But?” He looked at you quizzically.

“I don’t have much money to really afford private lessons or anything…” You said sadly, reaching over to take the journal back. “I’ve usually just come by to watch you work, which is why I took notes. I tried doing the same with a few other bakeries, but they brushed me off. You were the only one that didn’t really seem to mind…” Sighing, you closed the journal and tucked it away, “I just didn’t want to bother you with it, so I’m just fine watching from the window…”

Wally pondered this for a moment, humming thoughtfully before nodding at you. “Then how about this? I’ll teach you ways you can improve your skills, and in return, you help me organize my recipes. That sound fair?”

“More than fair… That’s just way too generous.” You counter, hands coming up in defense.

“I suppose, but I do need some help with organizing my own notes. And it’d be a great help if you could assist with that, especially with all the ideas and experiments I have in mind... Sometimes I lose track.” He chuckled, gently scratching his cheek. This offer was more of an excuse to get to know you better anyhow. “So, what do you say?”

“Y-Yes…. I say yes, absolutely. Thank you so much, Mr.—"

“Darling”, he interjects, extending a hand for you to take. “My name’s Wally Darling. But please, call me Wally.”

You slowly take his hand in your own, heat emitting from your cheeks as you gave him your name in return. “It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance… Wally.”

For the rest of his break, the two of you talked, laughed, and talked some more until his attention was pulled away back to work.

You said your farewells, but before leaving, Wally gifted you a small box of pastries filled with new flavors he was working on; contemplating whether they would be good to sell or not. He asked you to try them and write in detail what you thought about each one. You were happy to do so, saying goodbye once more as you left the bakery.

You were both looking forward to next Tuesday.

.

.

.

INT. HAUNTED HOUSE - NIGHT

[Scene slowly unfolds, black fading in and out as if pulsing. The darkness stretches into a black void until lights gently begin to fall on the PROTAGONIST. The sound of wood creaks with every uneasy inhale and exhalation made. The soft shuffling of WALLY’S footsteps can be heard from somewhere above.]

[Cue somber music as both characters begin to sing.]

 WALLY

[Pacing the library, conflicted in his resolution.]

You’re stuck in the basement… wondering where you are.

PROTAGONIST

[On their hands and knees, desperately looking for an exit.]

I’m frantically searching…. In the dark.

WALLY

[Stops his pacing as he stares at the library door. Pondering if he should check on you.]

You’re probably scared, and…. It’s all my fault.

PROTAGONIST

[Manages to find the stairs leading up from the basement. Pushing themselves up, they stagger before trying to quietly, but quickly, make their way up.]

How did I get here?

Was I lost?

I don’t remember…. Ha--!

[Finding the door, they quickly open it and stumble out into an outstretched hallway. A loud bang is heard off to the left, startling them and causing them to run right.]

WALLY

[The house groans, notifying him that the PROTAGONIST was on the run. He swiftly leaves the library, mumbling under his breath.]

Sorry, I can’t seem…to let you go.

As you happen to already know.

[The music begins to build, the PROTAGONIST running through the hall of mazes finally finds the front door ajar. They head straight toward it, but the door slams before they can reach it. WALLY comes from behind, only a few paces away. The PROTAGONIST turns in horror, backing up against the door until they were trapped there.]

[Music slows down as the two begin exchanges.]

 WALLY

Good evening dear, how are you?

What’s the rush? Leaving soon?

Why not stay just a little bit longer?

PROTAGONIST

I have to go…

WALLY

Is that so?

PROTAGONIST

I don’t belong here.

WALLY

Are you sure?

PROTAGONIST

Yes, now…. just, open the door.

WALLY

You know I can’t, so why even try?

Please, dear friend, step closer inside.

I promise you it’ll be worth your while.

PROTAGONIST

I highly doubt that.

WALLY

Huh.

[He pauses momentarily]

Well, why don’t I state my vindication?

PROTAGONIST

I politely decline your invitation.

WALLY

Come now, is that how you address a friend?

PROTAGONIST

More like a fiend!

WALLY

[Places a hand over his metaphorical heart, feigning hurt.]

Why, that hurts my self-esteem!

PROTAGONIST

Ha! You’re crazy if you think I’ll stay!

WALLY

I just can’t let you run away.  

PROTAGONIST

Enough with your games!

I’m done with your lies!

You can’t just do this and keep me inside!

WALLY

Darling, you must have hit your dome.

You cannot leave….

This. Is. Home.

[Music abruptly stops.]

[The room is silent, except for the PROTAGONIST’S shallow breathing. Quick flashes of black shadows and red eyes stare menacingly at the PROTAGONIST, causing the PROTAGONIST’S breath to hitch. WALLY begins to slowly move toward them, static beginning to ring in the PROTAGONIST’S ears, distorting WALLY’S voice as he extends a hand toward them.]

WALLY

Don’t you trust me?