Before reading this article, please read that. first.
WARNING: This has been 'upgraded' from the first story. PawnShop (talk) 01:18, June 17, 2013 (UTC)PawnShop
Run. Just run. No looking back. No drinks.
There was a single father, who lived in a city. He had a nice house, and two children.
His name was Robert Fichald. He was a nice man. He helped his neighbors whenever they needed it. He had never been in jail. He had a good, care free life until his wife was killed by a strange, oddly white, man with an enormous smile. He struggled to pay rent, and bills, etc. One soft summer night, a loud scratching awoke him and his children. He checked in the basement, where it was. Nothing. He sipped his coffee, told his children to go back to bed, and sat awake watching TV.
The scratching turned into loud howls of pain and then into creaks, science, then a bang on the ceiling. These noises went on for months without end. Finally, Robert went into the basement. "Shut up!" He screamed. Then, he noticed a small cat-like figure near a shelf. It moaned. It had blood red sock, mask, and a ring marking. It's black body looked up at him with pupils gray eyes.
POLICE REPORT: Robert Fichald was reported dead on the stairs of his basement. He held a cup of oddly warm coffee. Written in blood, there was a smiley in the coffee.
NO DRINKS PLEASE.
(You can find the origin of this story as a character in FH (Feral-Heart, the game), and it will be named Drinks, or Drinks pt 2. read bios.)