Bendy and Friends

Chapter 14: Joey's Deal

The cool morning air was crisp as Sammy walked down the concrete sidewalk. He was wearing a bright orange shawl with a hood—Alice has insisted on it—pulled over his head to conceal himself. He wore tap shoes as well, partially because it was the only thing he could find, and again because Alice insisted on it. "A good fashion choice!" She had told him.

In a few minutes, he entered Joey's neighbourhood. You could see the damage from the paparazzi, it really impacted the appearance of his house. He got to the front porch, and decided to knock on the dented door. While waiting, his hands began to get cold, but he didn't have pockets so he just stuffed them down his pants.

Joey opened the door, which fell off its hinges, and gave him a cheerful smile. "Sammy! My man! Welcome back to my humble abode." He said, inviting him in. Sammy took the offer and stepped into the house.

"Who's at the door, Jo?" Sammy heard Audrey shouting from upstairs. "Oh, um, it's just the, uh, new UPS guy, Tim!" Joey shouted in response. He turned back to Sammy, and quietly rushed him into the kitchen. "Better not let her see you this time." Joey laughed slightly.

"Is he hot?" Audrey shouted again. Joey frowned, turning to Sammy. "What do I say?" He whispered. "Say no," Sammy said.

"He's the ugliest person I've ever seen, his head is twelve times the width of his left thigh, and his arm is fourteen times the size of his right foot!" Joey shouted up the stairs, cupping his hands around his mouth.

"Sorry about that," Joey said, turning back to face Sammy. "Come sit." He guided him to the kitchen table, and they each took a seat. "Do you need anything in particular? Just wondering why you're here, considering you've been missing for, like, a day."

Sammy squirmed in his seat, and opened his mouth to begin speaking. "Is he single?" Audrey shouted once again from the floor above, cutting Sammy off. Clearly starting to get annoyed, Joey cupped his hands and shouted, "I don't think so!"

"What's his exact weight?" She practically screamed from above.

"Like, 400 pounds or something!" Joey shouted back.

"Of muscle?" Audrey yelled.

Annoyed, Joey simply took a deep breath to try to calm himself. He tended to make a big deal out of things. "No!" He shouted back at her.

Joey started to say, "Well, now that that's over—"

"Is he allergic to corn?" Audrey cut him off. "Yes! He says he's allergic to almost everything! Especially loud reporters who wear too much perfume!" Joey shouted, not-so-subtly hinting about her. "Well anyways, what do you need?" Joey said, facing Sammy.

"I need you to help me with something." Sammy said, pulling out a piece of paper with several scraggly lines on them. He handed the crumpled sheet to Joey, who hesitantly took it and looked it over. "Uh, what is this?" He said, handing it back. Sammy reread the lines, and they happened to be crystal-clear. "What do you mean?" Sammy asked.

"It's—it's just so blurry. It's like someone was using an airbrush and they lost control and it flew all over the place like a loose fire hose." Joey expressed, using his middle finger for some reason to gesture to the lines.

"Uhm, no. It's not like that at all." Sammy said, as Alice had the neatest writing he'd ever seen. "How's your vision?" Sammy said, holding up his middle finger towards his face. "How many fingers am I holding up?" He said, standing up and moving back slightly. Joey squinted, leaning forward slightly before slouching back into the chair comfortably. "Seventeen." Joey stated confidently.

"Wha—no! That's not even possible!" Sammy complained.

"Not if you use your toes." Joey gave a cocky smile, and laughed. "I'm just joking. My vision's fine." He reassured.

"Really? Oh, great. How many fingers am I holding up now?" Sammy said, holding up both of his pinkies.

It took Joey a second to figure it out. But after a moment he leaned back and howled with confidence. "I told you my vision was fine!" He grinned, standing up and opening the fridge.

"Then how many was I holding up?" Sammy asked, watching as Joey pulled out a minced meat pie and set it on the counter. "Oh, easy. Twenty-three." He said, grabbing a knife and cutting the pie into uneven halves and taking the larger one. He grabbed the salt and pepper and vigorously poured the entirety of the two containers onto the massive hunk.

"No!" Sammy said, stepping closer to him. "Again, that's not possible! Not even with your toes! It's just my pinkies!"

"Oh, so fifteen." Joey said, taking his plate to the table and sitting down. "Oh, whoops. Would you be a dear and get a fork and a knife and a spoon and a spork for me?" He said with an innocent smile.

"What's his last name?" Audrey yelled, causing Joey to jump and knock his plate off the table. Time seemed to slow down as Sammy threw himself onto the surprisingly filthy floor, managing to catch the plate just in time before—

Splat!

Sammy glanced over his shoulder to see the extremely spiced pie half on his back. "Uh . . . you still want this?" Sammy said, embarrassed.

"His last name is Timber! Tim Timber!" Joey shouted, and then scooped the pie off his back and back onto the plate Sammy was still holding. "Nice catch, bruh," he said, grabbing a napkin and wiping the remnants of the pie off his back. He sniffed the napkin, then stuffed it into his mouth and swallowed it.

"So, since I clearly can't read, would you mind reading it to me? And could you also get the fork, knife, spoon and spork for me? Because I think you forgot." Joey said, licking his fingertip and then gagging.

Sammy cleared his throat and stood up, dusting dirt, crumbs and a concerning amount of ants off of himself. "Uh, sure." He said, grabbing the paper and scanning it. "Well, all it says is that we have a plan. Three boys managed to steal the ink machine, and they consumed the ink. I figured that you could probably figure out a way to turn them back, considering you probably know more about the ink than anyone else. We need your help."

Joey nodded, staring at the pie on his plate. "Okay."

Sammy smiled, a rush of relief flooding through him. "Oh, this is great—"

Joey stopped him with his pointer finger. "Just wait a second. I want to make a deal. My help comes with a cost, you know."

Sammy's face fell. "What's the cost?" He said, sitting down in a chair.

"Well, I was thinking that I will help you if you help me." He said, licking his lips at the hunk of pie on his plate. "Okay, yes, I know. But what specifically is the thing you need help with?" Sammy asked curiously.

"I need you to take me to a restaurant. Specifically the Olive Garden. I need to resolve some problems I have with a waitress there, and you seem like a good person to take as moral support." Joey explained, smiling slightly. "Her shift seems to be only on Wednesdays from eleven to three, so lunch time."

Sammy sighed from relief. "I thought it was going to be something much more difficult," he said.

"Oh, it's still going to be difficult," Joey laughed. "That's why I need you!"

Sammy gave a small smile and said, "So tomorrow I help you with that, and then the next day you help me?"

Joey nodded. "Or that day, if there's still time." He said.

"Um, okay then. See you tomorrow, I guess," Sammy shouted as he walked into the front area and stepped over the broken door and back outside.

"Does he have a cat?" Sammy heard Audrey yelling as he left the neighbourhood.