Mickey #fnf Novels & Stories

I said as I crossed my arms in front of my chest. "I love mint choco." He said and I stopped. "Disgusting!" I hissed and he laughed. "Why is that disgusting? It's good." "I feel like brushing my teeth when I eat that flavour." I shook my head. "Do you have a pet?" He asked. "I have a black labrador at home. How about you?" "Really? I have a labrador too!" He said and I turned to him completely surprised. "Millie.. her name." "Blue.. his name." I turned to him and looked at him straight into his eyes.

I looked at Micah and said softly, "Micah, do you mind if I call you Micky from now on?" Essel burst out laughing, "Micky... I love Micky Mouse! Ms. Chancey, trust me. My brother is as smart as Micky!" Micah's eyes held disbelief.

“Okay. Fine. Help me stuff heart-shaped teething rings into these little bags before I spiral again.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “See? Told you it didn’t have to be a big thing.” I smacked his arm with a glittery napkin. “It does. Now start tying tiny bows.” Micah flopped onto the floor beside the table, cross-legged and already reaching for a pile of the tiny favor bags. “You know, when I imagined fighting off dark magic and saving lives, I didn’t think it would include glitter ribbon and infant-sized sunglasses.”

I asked him. Nodding his head, he pointed at a ginger boy before saying, "That's Mikey. He's nice, just always quiet. He's the mom of the group, always making sure we do everything right and not get into trouble," he said while laughing a little. "Then that's James. He's mostly known for his games. He's the man-whore of the group, always with a lady once in a while, so don't get surprised," he said while glaring at me. Nodding my head, I looked at the other guy who had a black hoodie on then pointed at him.

I smiled. The spiked brown hair guy with the pierced ears was the next one to shake my hand. He told me his name was Mikey, again I stared at his perfect chiselled face, like why was all of Mitch's friends so hot? I already looked like Shrek compared to Cassie and Cherry, now I had to look like the Predator against these three stupidly hot people.

She had been doing that for years even when he came by to her house to hang out with Max, she would always find excuses to be able to be seen. He'd seen her. Not the least bit interested in his best friend's quirky little sister whom he always called Mickey because she wore a Mickey Mouse costume on Halloween. She was 9 years old and he was 11. They went trick or treating together with Max and some other kids from the neighborhood. Everyone else was wearing scary costumes but Hazel wanted to wear something cute. She insisted on wearing that Mickey costume despite her mom persuaded her to wear something that's more in line with everybody else.

Mikey on the other hand let a laugh slip. “I’m sorry. I know it isn’t funny, but the pun was well said by the young lady.” Said Mikey. The little girl smiled at his comment and looked proud. “This is Katie.” Said Mark, gesturing towards the little girl. Katie put her hand up and waved hello. “Hi Katie.” Mikey and I said in unison. “How old are you?” I asked in a kind tone. “I’m twelve.” She said proudly. “Are you excited for the fundraiser?” asked Mikey.

“Jimmie?” The small voice made me look up. Just a few feet away stood Mico, rubbing his eyes, looking like an adorable pup who’d just stumbled out of sleep and gotten lost. “Mico?” I said, surprised. “What are you doing here? Why are you up so early?” He shuffled closer, his wide brown eyes shining with that innocent adoration only children had. “I love watching the guards do their morning patrol,” he admitted with a grin, “especially when they shift into their wolves.”

Micky chuckled as he rubbed the bump on the back of his head. “I think we all are, may want to wear hearing protection tonight Micky, your room is next to hers after all.” Dominic led Okimi into the house as Micky slammed the door to the SUV, his frustration was still close to the surface as his claws crimped the bodywork leaving four distinct dents.

No one else in the town heard that hum. MICKEY WROTE PROFUSELY. His knuckles were shades of violet and blue and his ink was at the clutch of draining. Only the persimmon light from his night lamp lit his sweaty and greasy notebook, leatherbound and obviously used to the point that the sheets are loosely coming off its spine. Let’s eavesdrop on the personal musings of Mickey. An entry from journal #8: