The last time Eddy ventured out here during the daytime would have been sometime during freshmen year. Back when all the odd rumors were wild new adventures that had to be explored. He'd brought along some leftover Halloween M&Ms as an offering since that was all he could afford.
The chill didn't mean anything back then. Maybe someone had complained about forgetting a jacket. Someone else had thrown some skittles at them and called them an idiot. But it's instantly recognizable now. The one who ran hadn't gotten very far.
But that's not who this memory belongs to. Pouch is fine. Or, well. Safe, at least. Relatively. Fuck.
No, this memory almost certainly belongs to the 400-pound bearret sitting in the small clearing, and—
Oh shit is that more goop? "Fuck," is all the warning Eddy gives as he reaches for one of the metal cans (his weapon of choice, apparently) and hurls it at the innocent cup of sweet delicious bruney clutched in Bearigold's good paw.
Blessedly, Eddy has good aim thanks to years of ball sports, but it's maybe also a blessing that this isn't actually the bearret in question.
MEMORY: Snacktime
The chill didn't mean anything back then. Maybe someone had complained about forgetting a jacket. Someone else had thrown some skittles at them and called them an idiot. But it's instantly recognizable now. The one who ran hadn't gotten very far.
But that's not who this memory belongs to. Pouch is fine. Or, well. Safe, at least. Relatively. Fuck.
No, this memory almost certainly belongs to the 400-pound bearret sitting in the small clearing, and—
Oh shit is that more goop? "Fuck," is all the warning Eddy gives as he reaches for one of the metal cans (his weapon of choice, apparently) and hurls it at the innocent cup of sweet delicious bruney clutched in Bearigold's good paw.
Blessedly, Eddy has good aim thanks to years of ball sports, but it's maybe also a blessing that this isn't actually the bearret in question.