Chapter Text
The sun is rising on another just alright day in Dialtown! Childer prowling in sharp, broken park glass, many swans attempting to shred a weirdo with a head wound, and you... doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.
"I thought you couldn't tell when I was pretend sleeping..." the Gingi replies to the voice in their head.
??? You just laid eggs?? You seemed to have a great time with Roger last night. Are we not following up on any of that?
"I dunno, the red one and Rodger seemed to have a pretty good handle on that coup and those eggs have at least a year and some change before doing anything."
I'm surprised you even know what the word coup means.
...
...
"UGHHHHH NARRATOR I'M BORRRRRED"
Crazy how doing nothing means you end up doing nothing.
"That's what big nothing wants you to think."
What?
"Huh?"
In case you didn't come to this epiphany yesterday, working a job can get you cash, which in turn leads to more funfair. Perhaps consider being a productive member of society today as well?
"Listen bucko in case YOU didn't realize, Peteman gave me a whole 5 DOLLAR. And that means I still have plentyyy of funfair money- and it's gone." Gingi flatly states while continuously swatting at various items around their tent in sad attempts to grab what cash they had left. "FUCKKKKK"
See now wouldn't it be wise to have backup money in case of times like this?
Gingi thought about this question extremely carefully and decided to reply to their dear narrator with the most obvious and rational answer, "DID YOU TAKE IT??? I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU I'LL KILL YOU GRGGRRRR RARRGH GRRARRRR" they start yowling while scratching wildly at their leather-stitched object face.
HOW WOULD I EVEN TAKE YOUR MONEY I LIVE IN YOUR HEAD.
"Hey don't put yourself down sometimes you are a sock. On. My hand. Just...hold on a minute," Gingi then starts to think, retracing all steps they could have taken to the best of their ability which is not much. Static cartoonish images of a funfair date with some orange guy start flashing through their mind, the rides, the prizes, the overall not the worst time. After a quick flashback montage and putting two fingers up to where their brain might be, a piece of paper seemingly appears in their hand. Where could that possibly have even come from?
"Oh yes orange Roger drew me this neat map last night while we were lovingly gossiping about Pectoral and his freakshow family!" Gingi excitingly explains. "He told me 'Hey you would probably enjoy this cool place where they give you free pizza except they don't actually give it to you for free in fact they actually get quite mad when you walk into their pizza filled kitchen and try to snag a bite. You'd think such a pizza rich establishment would be more willing to give to the working class of today's society. Imagine all the poor bugs and critters that are currently pizza deprived, all because of the cruelty of a select few-' To which I cut him off and said 'Please show me where this beautiful place is.' And he drew me a neat map."
That is a slightly torn piece of lined notebook paper with nothing but crayon scribbles and a scarily accurate drawing of a centipede.
"Ok maybe you just suck then this is a very legible map see," Gingi points to a weird blotch of muddy green colors, "this is obviously my tent and there's a fun swirly path for me to follow just outside!"
Gingi takes a step outside and follows the map to the best of their ability, mysteriously the road winds just as the scribbles depict and a brand new statue of a centipede is being erected outside of the local art gallery, advertising some new pretentious show.
"Heh. Erected."
Shut up.
"Whatever we're literally almost there," Gingi states while pointing at what seems to be a crudely drawn bear-trap on the wrinkled paper.
Why do I feel like I'm forgetting something horrifically important about the location you're trying to steal/get a job from... did you ever get the chance to get Peters last name?
"Who?"
Of course you didn't.
After even more twists and turns through the streets of uptown Dialtown, the damp maze-like tunnels of the subway, and more streets through downtown Dialtown, the cryptid finally makes their way to the most disheveled building they've probably seen in the past 24 hours, they honestly can't even remember. The front of the building boasts a rotting cutout of a rusty bear-trap with a matching faded bow tie and top hat, it's jaw is slightly open like it's about to bite something out of view. Right below the unsettling cutout is the name of the restaurant- Absolutely not Gingi. We are not going in there like, at all. In fact, it's a miracle that Roger wasn't immediately shot to death with a gun when he tried stealing from this godawful establishment. If you turn around right now and go home, I will permit you to do whatever you want for a full hour. Doesn't that sound nice? I will give you everything I have to not even step closer to this building.
"Just tell me what it says bastard narrator." Gingi illiterately retorts.
All it says is the word 'bear'. Are you satisfied now? Maybe we can leave before anyone inside can notice us- suddenly there's a loud crash as a strained voice exclaims, "I'M SICK OF THIS TREATMENT, THE THERAPY EMUS CULTIVATED A BETTER WORK ENVIRONMENT THAN YOU F-R-E-A-K-S!" and an older phone-headed man storms out. His phone is a bright green and his dial has a small crack in it, his suit is wonky and disheveled as if he just got into a brawl. He turns to Gingi, "Don't even bother going in there, just run as fast as you possibly can," he pauses and looks over a second time once he realizes exactly what he's talking to, "Actually you look like you'd do better off than me in there." He mumbles before speed walking away as quickly as possible. A good sign for what's to come. Another man frantically follows the first, a taller black phone head sporting a matching black suit and tie.
"W-WALT COME ON WE WE CAN NEGOTIATE BENEFITS." The black phone manages to sputter out.
"DON'T EVEN TRY HARRY, I'LL SEE YOU AT LASER TAG THIS WEEKEND." Walt yells from across the street.
"Rotary-christ laser tag is the least of my worries right freaking now. Shoot." he pathetically whispers to himself. Also a good sign of what's to come. What seems to be Harry almost immediately notices Gingi (who wouldn't) and puts all of his green concerns aside to ask, "Do you want a job?" While a cardboard 'HELP WANTED' sign wetly flops to the damp ground. As this sad, sad man practically begs to the local cryptid, Gingis vision starts darkening.
Please don't take this job, I swear there is nothing worse than taking this job. Promise me you won't take this job.
"You know I can't promise anything, even when pinkies are involved..."
Just... please? For me?
"That other guy seems way sadder than you, can you cry on command maybe that'll convince me."
I do not have eyes.
"I dunno what to tell you, you lost your chance."
Just PLEASE consider any other job. I have been actively BEGGING.
"Well if you're going to be such a whiny piece of shit about this place can you at least tell me WHY you're so opposed?"
I'll actually give you a few reasons. 1) This is the most broken down, damp restaurant I've ever seen. The mold spores alone will kill you before they can even give you food poisoning. 2) This is the third time I've seen giant scuttlers in the past 24 hours and I'd really appreciate it if we kept that to a minimum. 3) I'm like 79% sure I know the guy who owns this place an-
"SAY NO MORE!" Gingi exclaims as their vision brightens once more. "WEIRD PHONE MAN I WOULD LIKE TO ACCEPT YOUR OFFER! TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER" as the weird phone man himself looks over with pain in his non-existent eyes. Which makes sense since you looked like you were talking to yourself for a solid 4 minutes. Fuck you.