Multifandom Short Stories

~ Mr Baldi, I Don't Feel So Good ~

Game: Mr Baldi's- I don't care. I really don't.

Author's Note reserved for end.

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   I pity my friend. I really do.

   He can't eat. He's not disabled or anything, but if he needs lessons on eating, then he needs help. Really.

   Honestly that's a bigger priority than his notebooks, which he left at school.

   Seven. Notebooks. You can't just put them in your backpack? Or were your lessons that urgent?

   Well, yeah. Everyone needs to eat to live. Math won't kill you.

   I think.

   I hope.

   At first, being the nice guy that I am, I was going to retrieve his notebooks. His weird-ass math teacher, Mr. Baldi, hates it when people don't do their homework.

   Or get his problems wrong. Any of them.

   I remember one time my friend told me that he was given a problem where all the numbers were printed on top of each other. And Mr. Baldi got pissed at the entire class for getting it wrong, despite it being impossible to solve.

   He stalks his students in the halls sometimes. Probably even outside of the school. The other teachers see him do this. How is he not fired for this? He seems to have an agenda to kill us kids.

   I think.

   If he finds me, will he kill me? Will he get away with murder?

   Wait. I'll check.

   Okay, I'm good.

   Mr. Baldi would often stare blankly at people for no reason. The way he walks is a bit unsettling too.

   My mind kept lingering for a bit. Mr. Baldi's pretty disturbing in looks as well. Those cold, soulless eyes pierce through you. And that mouth. How is that humanly possible?

   Unless he's not human.

   You know what? I think I'll let my friend suffer without his seven notebooks. Yeah. That works.

   And Mr. Baldi can shove every single one of them right up his hairy-

Game Over

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A//N:

I fucking hate this game.

What, do you expect poetry?