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The End Of Fosters Part 1	By : Wendell Urth Category: +1 through F > Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends Views: 2538 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Foster’s Home For Imaginary Friends and all associated or other characters belong to their respective creators and owners, not me. I receive no compensation whatsoever for this story.

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Disclaimer: Foster’s Home For Imaginary Friends and all associated or other characters belong to their respective creators and owners, not me. I receive no compensation whatsoever for this story.

Chapter 2: She kills the Duchess and dances
There was only a dozen or so Imaginary Friends remaining. The Home was no longer the fun welcoming place that it had been under Madame Foster and Mr. Harriman. The Friends were afraid of Miss Foster, especially after she killed The Duchess.
Truth was, that had been a terrible accident. Frankie had run the numbers a hundred different ways. Consulted with lawyers and government agencies. The Home had survived this long due to Madame Foster’s personality and perseverance.
And she had juggled the books. Forged documents.
There was a lot of fraud involved which might have meant a long prison sentence for the old woman if she had lived.
If…
Frankie considered every option. Then got drunk for two weeks and allowed the Home to go to hell.
One of the secrets of The House was that as long as there were two humans, two Fosters, living there full time, the Friends could survive, not fade away. The people who lived there could even leave for short periods, weeks even because the Friends knew that they were returning… soon. But now that Frankie was the last Foster? She couldn’t leave for more than a few days at most. She was tied to the Friends, to the House’s survival. It weighed on her.
“Not fair, Grandmother. Not fair!”
She began smoking… again. She had quit in her teens but had taken up the habit again. She sat naked in her room, stared at herself in the mirror and considered her options.
It was time to go back to work.
She called a meeting in the wreckage of the mansion’s main hall that ignoring her responsibilities for two weeks had allowed to happen. Imaginary Friends that were allowed to roam free equals chaos and destruction. “No more!” she promised herself.
Frankie announced that the Home would be closing in five years, the jobs program she had set up. Rent. No more free meals, and so on. Also, no more private rooms.
The Friends were shocked, angry, upset. Scared. They were mainly scared and they didn’t recognize this new Frankie who was in charge and was going to overturn their lives. Many cried. Others screamed.
Some flew into a rage… like the Duchess.
The Duchess was famous (or infamous) for her rages. This was different. This was world changing. Her tirade of invective, curses, threats went far beyond her usual abrasive personality. At some point the words, “Drunken Whore” were heard.
Then she used the “P-Word”.
There had been rumors about Frankie’s last meeting with Mac. Most of the Imaginary Friends didn’t believe the rumors, many didn’t understand them (sex is not part of most Imaginary Friends makeup). Some of the more worldly ones smirked, “This was getting good!” Some Imaginary Friends had been abused by adults and were secretly pleased to see a human, any human, be humiliated.
The “P-Word”.
Frankie trembled in her own personal rage. This horrible Friend had been the boogeyman (or bogeywoman) of her nightmares since she was a little girl. Flecks of Imaginary paper spit flew from the Duchess’s mouth and splashed across Frankie’s face. Little paper cuts formed on her cheeks and below her eyes.
The “P-Word”.
Frankie made a grab for the Duchess’s arm to push her away, but forgot she was two-dimensional paper and missed.
The Duchess, who never liked being touched at the best of times, reached out and slapped a surprisingly heavy paper hand at Frankie’s face, knocking the dangling lit cigarette from her face in a shower of sparks.
Frankie’s eyes grew wide as she saw the Duchess’ hand begin to smoke from the burning embers. The Duchess went to slap Frankie again and saw the flames. She shrieked, “You set me on fire, you ugly Ped…!”
Frankie slapped at the flames now shooting up the paper Friend’s arm, but instead of putting them out, the entire body turned to ashes and embers in a flash. The expensive carpet began to burn. Frankie stamped at the flames before the whole house went up like the tinder box it was.
The Friends were aghast.
“She set the Duchess on fire, did you see?”
“She killed her and danced on her ashes!”
Within in the next couple of days nearly a third of the Friends were gone.
Frankie couldn’t believe they thought she had killed the Duchess on purpose. They hated the Duchess, who was now a hero and martyr.
Well, maybe Frankie hated them back. She certainly resented them. She had given up most of her life to care for these “creatures” and this was how they repaid her?
And it would be at least five more years before she could be free. Free to pick up her life.
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The End Of Fosters Part 1