H ELLO.
Oh hello. Hello my D E A R E S T friends.
WHY YES - you.
Y O U.
How nice it is to EAT you
--DID I saythat!?
Oh no.
N0 No n0 NO no.
NICE TO MEET YOU.
--(Yes.)
B EAN VLADIMIR P.
ESQUIRE.
( Beanie Baby | JellyBean | Felicia )
Bean is a SIR that is described by just about
no one as being a gentle and kind soul.
Generally standing at 4 feet at the shoulder, the beast is ultimately a mass of a black shadow-like substance. While solid, a form is hard to make out immediately without movement. What is visible are s o u l l e s s eyes that stare grumpily without blinking, matching a toothy grin of needle-like teeth perfect for ripping the seams of the s o c k s the creature devours. His body can change its size depending on needs, but his max weight of 9,000lbs does not change regardless.
--G r a v it y affects the beast in odd ways.
He seems to choose when.
Bean is quite a DANGEROUS fellow to many, including those that have not paid rent in the properties that he leases, anyone willing to complain about his accountant work, those that make direct eye contact for longer than 3.5 seconds, anyone who turns on the WRETCHED television screen, and most of all Mr. Noodles, his arch-nemesis.
--Bean is missing his be l o v ed right wing.
He lost it during a game of poker against Mr. Noodles.
To those that Bean has BEFRIENDED, you are in luck, or most certainly doomed. Not only do you keep your life until he randomly snaps one day and gobbles you like a wood chipper, you now have a shadow. Someone to do your taxes. And most of all, plenty of unwanted company that occasionally makes loud shrieking noises. Do you know how to make HOT CHOCOLATE? It is now time to learn.
B ean is a well-established ACCOUNTANT. With the use of his s p i n d l y front arms often hidden away in his fluff. Not only will he re-finance your house and file your taxes, but he will also deliver them before they get EATEN. Contact him today via shouting to hear about his e x cl u s i ve offers.
LIKES
MR. TOGER, his brother | Fun-patterned socks (left) | Ballpoint pens (*clicky clicky*)
Tax Season | Staring at people | Visiting the elderly
DISLIKES
Mr. Noodles the Canoodler | Waterparks | TV static
Cars that honk | The price of milk at the store
F U N FA C T S
--(Fun fun fun)
Bean's childhood dream was to become a professional go-kart driver.
His part-time job includes being Agnes' esteemed imaginary friend.
His favorite drink is hot chocolate. His favorite alcoholic drink is maple syrup.
Bean's mother's name is Laura, and she is a manatee.
Do not let Bean around your cats.
Comments
*blinks* o u o
Agnes immediately noticed the missing the door hinges, as her door was hanging by sheer will power and GRIT AND SPIT.
CRAASSSHHHHHHHH
The door slammed down into the room and onto whatever godforsaken mugs lay there. Agnes scanned the room with complete and utter shock on her face. This couldnt be Louie...he can't reach the counter. NO, the culprit lay snug behind the couch with those ojos des tristes. The look of shock melted into pure joy.
"IS THAT MY BEANIE BABY!?!?! ITS BEAN Y E A R S!!" Agnes masterfully stepped around each steeping hot mug like kitten trying to avoid a room of plastic cups their owners placed to exploit them for views, likes, and shares on social media. She lifted the plushy boi up with the greatest of ease and into a hug, before she gave him a pouted stern look.
"What did we say about stealing mugs??? These all better return back where they came from or SO HELP ME!!!
....now where is my son- YOU LEFT HIM IN THE COLD??"
She placed His PLUSHINESS on the shoved couch only to make her way to the balcony, Louie jumped to her arms. She tucked him into bed in her room before coming back.
"Now... who wants The Hot Chocolate TM?"
Her pallor wasn’t the only thing that made her look like a twiggy snowman. Might as well consider that she was as stiff as one, too. Only her eyes darted about as this creature circled around her, each step thundering and reverberating through her until it came into an alarming halt.
BRRrrrrrrrMMMM
Gulping slightly at the bizarre demand, Cassella very slowly raised an eyebrow, vaguely gesturing around.
Maybe the nearest pantry will help her reassess.
“Are you… are you gonna help me make some?”
Expression bore a NEBULOUS harbor of level confusion and ultimate capitulation. Her mind yearned to find a speck of sanity waggling its finger at her current dilemma, but alas, all she has was a head (((????))) laying on the table.
Why was that tune so CATCHY
Why was it DEETING
Where the hell is her SYRUP
"Riddle! Yes! Good job! The popcicle is yours."
Please get out please get out please get out pl e a se g
With a deep exhale, the unholy creature was soon approached by the much larger aquatic beast, who stared him down with a suspiciously straight face. While trying to hold back a grin, he finally dared to speak.
"Yo momma is so fat, she died. THE END!"
His VOICE (like a whirlwind) echoed hauntingly through the store, causing her eyes to rise from their then- resting positions and to those soulless basins.
The "Nope" on her face was so thick, you could slice it with a knife.
"Uhhh..."
Catastrophe implodes, a collapsing calamity that brought a turbulence in the form of wide eyes and a rapid heartbeat.
"Uh...Tell me a riddle. If I lose, it's all yours. If I win, you can keep it."
WELCOME TO HELL
I'm sure you know where to start
Give me your teeth