Poppy Playtime: Oneshots/Short-stories

Pesticide Hazard.

Disclaimer: I don't own Poppy Playtime (Video Game). I don't own the picture (cover). Or the song.

(qwertuno and SilentReadersMatter)

(Hope you enjoy.)

A caterpillar is known to be a free creature. Exploring the ground and tasking the newest leaf and anything else it can find along the way of it's journey. The organisms can feel and are considered real.

It is known as a robot. Toy. Not someone made of skin and bone. They are plastic and metal. Flesh and bone is for the children cheering and playing in its daycare after the the workers neglect them and leave the little ones to the caterpillar to keep an eye on for them. The children cause trouble and it had to solve the problem. Which is hard considering it cannot speak nor make gestures to let them know it is in distress and needed help.

"Mommy loves this place for us!"

"Chase us Mista Caterpilla'!"

"Feels like home."

"Don't wanna leave!"

"Sometimes my parent don't want me."

Recalling the children looking after themselves. Mature enough that the caterpillar can have a nap to regain its energy. Bruised and marks on their skin that their sensors tell it that seen meant to be there. Claiming their skin, permanent scars laying dormant until the child comes crying to the caterpillar-

"Sir, can ya help me? It hurts."

"Stings. It stings."

"Mama doesn't like imperfection."

"What did I do to make them hate me?"

The caterpillar's mute. It cannot speak. It cannot make gestures. Cannot comfort the child. Only cuddle closer and allow them to rest on it's long, slinky body as it rises to the ceiling to observe the surroundings of the play area. It's home. Their home.

The workers stare at it in wonder. How can the children prefer it over them? They helped, put them to sleep, played with when the kids wanted to act like bloody brats, and the damn caterpillar took the credit. Looking at one another, they silently agreed on its demise as it slept on unaware of the plan to remove it from the factory.

No toy would compare to a worker.

"I don't like the workers."

"They stare and I don't like it.."

"Mista' Catapilla', what do ya think?"

From the upper level on the beams, the caterpillar, still unaware of the workers' plans, watched them prepare the daycare for the day as they began opening up the playground and other equipment. It whined in approval, happiness radiating off the creature as it thought if it's friends coming back for the day! It was so sad when they left! They had other things to do! Resting on the rafters in the shadows, the workers never noticed it observing their movements in grabbing weapons of different kinds.

The caterpillar tilted its head. Sensing something wrong with the pleasure and sinister motives in their eyes directed toward it and the children.

Protect fleshies.

The nickname it unconsciously gave them. The children had come up with these unique concepts of names to diverse themselves so the caterpillar wouldn't mix them together as the same child. Usually irritated if it accidentally approached one thinking it was another. A tantrum ensued and the parents weren't happy. The caterpillar would retreat into its homes for days refusing to come, feeling bad for disrupting the usually quiet and busy factory.