Disobedience Shan't Be Rewarded

Why Must You Be Difficult?

The Narrator had a feeling today would be difficult, and he was right. Of course Stanley didn't go through the left door. He didn't know what it was, but Stanley hadn't been doing what he asked for quite some time. All he wanted was to give him a proper story! He worked so hard on it, doesn't he realize that?

The Narrator tapped his foot as he watched him walk idly through the open room.

"Yes yes, blue walls, blue chairs, blue carpet, it all fascinated Stanley immensely. He didn't think he'd ever seen so much blue. It reminded him of the vast endlessness of the ocean. He began to feel a panic swell in his chest, the deep blue around him consuming poor Stanley. His eyes started to hurt from seeing so much blue," he narrated, forcing Stanley to rush out of the lounge.

Stanley ran into the hall, feet slowing to a stop. His chest heaved up and down as he caught his breath, glaring towards the ceiling. When he continued guiding him towards the story, he half expected Stanley to continue going straight instead of going through the door on the left. He was even more impressed when he didn't get off track going through the maintenance area. But of course, all good things must come to an end.

The Narrator was perplexed when he turned around to see Stanley was no longer behind him, but instead was standing in the broom closet.

"Oh no, Stanley, this again? I've already told you, there is nothing, absolutely nothing of value in this room! You're really just wasting your time."

When Stanley opened the door, he thought he'd finally gotten through to him.

The door slammed in his face, and he could swear he could hear muffled snickers from behind the door. But... his Stanley didn't laugh. Couldn't, as far as he could tell. Had he been wrong all this time? Perhaps he could find out, and fix Stanley's behavior problem once and for all.

He knocked on the door, waiting for any indication of a response. The door opened, and just as he took a breath to speak, the door shut once more. The Narrator stomped his foot in frustration and knocked again.

"Stanley, why do you even care about this closet? As far as closets go, it's not even that nice," he still tried to appeal to him. He could hear pacing footsteps on the other side of the door.

"If you don't come out here this instant you're seriously going to regret it!" he threatened. "One... two... two and a half..."

The door opened and Stanley stepped out, much to the Narrator's relief. He gasped and sputtered over his words when Stanley walked back into the closet. The Narrator was seriously annoyed, but he also started to find his persistent disobedience quite funny. He'd never let Stanley know that however.

The Narrator leaned against the wall by the door and heaved a dramatic sigh, taking off his glasses to clean them. "I'm sorry Stanley, but I'm afraid you've given me no choice..."

He had still been holding onto the hope that Stanley would come out and get on with the story, but apparently that was too much to ask.

"Stanley, this is your very last warning!" he threatened. The door opened for a split second before slamming shut. The Narrator growled in frustration before schooling his emotions. He made a show of clearing his throat before speaking.

"Stanley thought what he was doing was just so funny, he began to laugh. He was tickled pink with the inconvenience he was causing, so he laughed even harder."

The Narrator sported a satisfied smirk when the sound of muffled laughter could be heard through the walls.

""What's wrong with me?" Stanley thought, but there wasn't a single hair out of place. Everything seemed normal, but no matter how hard he tried, Stanley just couldn't stop laughing. For you see, for some inexplicable reason, Stanley felt incredibly ticklish. As if someone were scratching over his sides and prodding his, if I'm being entirely honestly, slightly pudgy belly."

He continued narrating over Stanley's laughter as if he weren't the reason for his plight. He smirked when he heard a loud crash from inside the broom closet.

"In an attempt to escape the phantom sensations, Stanley stepped in a bucket on the ground and tripped. Trying to catch himself, he grabbed onto the shelf but only managed to bring it down with him. All that trouble, and he was still laughing like an idiot."

The Narrator smirked to himself, shoving his hands in his pockets. He spoke in a teasingly nonchalant tone.

"Yes, Stanley had never felt more embarrassed in his life. Despite knowing he was the only one in the office, he couldn't help but think that someone might see him like this. A silly thought, really. But nevertheless, Stanley was a flustered mess, laughing himself silly on the closet floor."

He casually leaned against the doorframe, relishing in the sounds of the other man's hysterics.

"The poor thing felt more ticklish by the second, especially when the strange feeling began to spread through his body." A loud shriek came from behind the closed door, and the Narrator couldn't contain his own amused chuckles.

"Really Stanley? Your knees are that bad? Interesting," he mused to himself. The door to the broom closet burst open, revealing a still giggling Stanley gasping for breath.

"Ah, there you are! I hope that little detour was worth it for you," he taunted, only receiving an angry glare in return. "Now don't give me that look Stanley. You forced my hand," he explained, his voice completely devoid of any sympathy.

The Narrator walked over to where he laid on the ground and nudged him with his foot. "Are you going to stick to the story?" he asked pointedly. Stanley shot him the bird and the Narrator chuckled softly.

"You know that's not an answer..."

After a moment, Stanley sighed and nodded reluctantly.

"Good." He walked down the hall with Stanley trudging along behind him.

"When Stanley came to a set of 2 open doors, he entered the door on his left."

And, of course, Stanley entered the door on his right.