The Exorcism of Frances Foster, a foster's home for imaginary friends fanfic

This whole story is pretty much just an extremely random fic I wrote in my spare time. Basically, I got the idea after seeing the movie "The Exorcism of Emily Rose", and then I saw some clips of the movie The Exorcist on a rerun of "I Love the 70's." Since then, I've basically been messing around with the idea of exorcisms and weird stuff like that until finally it worked its way into avery weirdlittle fic idea I got not too long ago.

Enjoy, everyone! Please read and review!

The Exorcism of Frances Foster

(A short fic by Dude13)

"Alright, so what's playing tonight?" Bloo asked as he plopped himself down on the TV room couch.

Nighttime had long fallen on Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, and dinner had been concluded hours before. That of course meant only one thing for a select group of house residents: a big comfy couch, a large bowl of heavily buttered popcorn, and a good old-fashioned horror flick to top it all off.

Wilt grinned as he settled himself down. "Get ready to get your socks knocked off guys, 'cuz you're in for a real treat tonight!"

Mac just rolled his eyes as he slumped in his seat. "Yeah, but that's what you said last week about The Bog Thing from Lake Doom, and we could see the zipper on the actor's costume from scene one!"

"Yeah, but that still didn't keep you from almost wetting the bed afterwards, didn't it bud?" Bloo chuckled with a fiendish grin as he elbowed his creator playfully. Mac responded in turn with a swift punch to the little imaginary friend's shoulder.

"Hey, shut up!" the boy snapped. "I did not almost wet the bed! I just…had a little trouble falling asleep, that's all."

"And you had to sleep with Frankie in her bed because you had a "little trouble" getting to sleep?" Bloo continued ribbing his friend with a smug smirk.

"Hey, look who's talking Mr. Oh-My-God-That-Thing-In-The-Back-of-The-Refrigerator-Growled-At-Me." Mac grumbled in reply as he shot his imaginary friend a sour glare.

"Hey, no fair!" Bloo protested indignantly. "That leftover meatloaf is alive, I swear! You guys just refuse to see the truth! Laugh at me now, but I swear, one night, while you're getting a midnight snack..."

"Bloo, you said the exact same thing about that week-old potato salad." Mac quickly rebutted with an exasperated groan.

"Oh yeah, you're Mr. Tough Guy when it comes to killer leftovers, but as soon as it comes to cheesy 60's horror flicks-"

"C'mon, will you just knock it off?" Mac yelled furiously, waving his arms about wildly. "I do not get scared easily, I-"

Before the boy could get any further however, his point was abruptly disproved as a pair of hands reached out from behind the couch and nabbed the unsuspecting child by the shoulders.

"AAAAAAAAAAA!" Mac squealed loudly in surprise as his mysterious assailant lifted him high into the air. Squirming frantically for dear life, the child wailed in absolute terror as he desperately struggled to break free.

"AAAAAUUUUGGGHHH! Lemmego! Lemmego! Please, no! Don't hurt me! I'm begging you! I'm too young to die-mmphf!"

His frenzied pleas for mercy were promptly cut off as a hand was clamped firmly over his mouth, effectively muffling the spooked child's wailing. Groaning loudly in exasperation, Frances "Frankie" Foster shot the two imaginary friends seated on the couch a stern glare as she struggled to keep a hold on the still-wriggling eight-year-old in her arms.

"Wilt!" she snapped irritably. "What did I say?"

"Oops! I'm sorry, Frankie! I totally forgot! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" her lanky imaginary friend gasped as he began to frantically apologize for his transgression. "Oh, please, I didn't mean it!"

Frankie sighed heavily as she shook her head. "C'mon, don't you remember? I told you, I don't want any more late-night scary movies for Mac until the little guy can get through one again in one piece. I don't know about you two, butI do not want a repeat of last Saturday!" she lectured them dutifully.

"Hey, c'mon!" Mac protested as he finally managed to tear her hand from his mouth, quickly recovering from his initial shock. "Frankie, it wasn't that bad! I can do it! I can-"

"Not that bad?" Frankie replied incredulously."Pal, if I remember correctly, I think I nearly had a heart attack last week when someone woke up in the middle of the night screaming bloody murder. Now, I'm not too sure, but if memory serves me right…"

"Okay, I get it! I get it!" Mac groaned. "C'mon Frankie, that was a week ago! I'll be better this time, I promise! I can do this! Can't I just-"

"Wilt, what are you guys watching tonight?" the redhead inquired as she consolidated her firm hold on the squirming child.

"Uh…The Exorcist?" Wilt replied meekly with a weak grin. Almost immediately upon hearing this Frankie whirled about and began to make her way in the direction of the main staircase.

"Okay, that's it. Bedtime, kiddo!" she announced flatly as she tucked the wildly wriggling Mac under her arm, an action that was immediately followed by a hail of protest.

"Hey, c'mon Frankie! It won't be bad! Please!"

"Pal, I just tried to pick you up a minute ago and I could've sworn my eardrums were about to burst with the way you were shrieking like that."

"Hey, I was not shrieking! I-"

"Don't try and fool me, Mac Foster. I barely touched you and it was last Saturday all over again."

"No fair! No fair! Can't I just stay up a little bit and-"

"Mac, no offense, butI am not planning on sharing my bed tonight, and I plan to keep it that way!"

"Aw man…"

As the odd pair exited into the foyer, Bloo jokingly called out after them,

"Hey, don't worry, Mac! I'll set some dry sheets by your door before I go to bed. Heeheehee!" he sniggered as he plopped himself comfortably back in his seat.

"Hey, c'mon Bloo, knock it off!" Wilt objected sternly as he turned on the TV. "I'm sorry, but that sooo was not okay. Mac was really scared last week, like that's never happened to you."

"Me? Scared?" Bloo scoffed scornfully with a smug grin. "Puh-leeze! Wilt, I'm probably the last guy to be scared by some dumb horror movie. I mean, when was this thing filmed, the seventies? Yeah, right! Like I'm going to let something like that get to me…"

(The very next morning...)

"Frankie, do you need any more help with breakfast?" Mac asked as he dashed into the kitchen. "Frankie?"

"Over here, pal." Came a muffled reply, and the boy quickly spotting her leafingabout insidea cabinet, back turned to him. Not wasting a moment, Macscampered over dutifully to his big sister's side.

"You all set with everything here? I'm sorry that I got down a little late, I just-"

"No need to apologize, I'm all set." Frankie answered calmly as she turned around to face the child.

"Are you sure?" Mac asked concernedly. "C'mon, I'm sure there's something that I can-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Jumping nearly two feet in the air, the boy let loose with an unnaturally high-pitched shriek of surprise that reverberated loudly throughout the kitchen.

"What is it? What happened?" Wilt cried worriedly as he skidded in from the dining room. "What's going-WHOA! Oh, geez!" he yelled in horror, quickly throwing his hand over his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry! I just, I mean, I didn't mean, I just, I just...oh man that is not right!" he babbled uncontrollably.

Frankie was not a pretty sight. Or to be more exact, her appearance was appallingly nightmarish. Her skin, normally a vibrant peach tone, was now an ugly ghost white-pallor, touched off with hints of puke-green blemishing certain places on her face. The girl's eyes, instead of carrying their usually fiery sparkle, were now glazed over and half-closed, giving Frankie the appearance of a sleepwalker, or even a zombie from one of Wilt's cheesy horror flicks. To top it all off, the young woman slouched unnaturally and shivered uncontrollably as if she was in the middle of a miniature earthquake. There was no doubt about it; Foster's resident caretaker had become…

"Sick." Mac whispered, sticking out his tongue in disgust.

"Huh?" Frankie groaned, slowly turning her head to give him a dumb stare. "What's that, pal?"

"You're sick!" the boy repeated. "And not just sick, you're…you're…um…"

"Really sick?" Wilt suggested as he reached over to feel the girl's forehead.

"Ah, c'mon, guys." Frankie just scoffed at their accusations. "I'm not sick, I feel just-"

"Yowch!" Wilt yelped as he quickly withdrew his hand. "Oh cripes, Frankie, you're burning up!"

"Oh please, you guys are just-"

"For Pete's sake, Frankie, you can barely even stand up!" Mac protested fiercely.

"Says you!" Frankie grunted weakly in denial as she dangerously wobbled back and forth in a sickly manner, long legs shaking like Jell-O. "Guys, I'm okay! Will you please just leave me alone and let me get back to work?"

Mac cocked his head and shot the ailing girl a confused glance. "Wait, wait, hold on. You actually want to get back to your chores?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, yeah!" Frankie replied with an annoyed huff. "What else am I gonna do? C'mon, Herriman's got like a million things for me to do today and as Foster's caretaker, it's my sworn duty…"

"Okay, okay, that's it!" Wilt cut off her babbled rant. "Now we know you're sick. C'mon Frankie, let's get you upstairs and-"

"Hey, back off!" the feverish girl snapped as she took a wobbly step backwards. "Knock it off, you two, I'm serious! Will you quit it with all the talk about-"

"Frankie, please!" Mac implored as he took a cautious step forwards. "Take it easy, we just want to-"

"No, no way!" she yelled in reply. "Not until you guys knock it off! C'mon, I really mean it! Mr. Herriman needs me to trim the windows, wash the ceilings, paint the hedges…uh, bake the…um…lawn…"

"Oh man, she's totally gone." Mac whispered cautiously to Wilt.

"Right, we gotta make this quick." Wilt nodded in response.

"On the count of three, ok? One…"

"Will you please quit it?" the fever-stricken Frankie snarled. "C'mon! Coco, Grandma, will you two just leave me alone?"

"Two…"

"Hey, wait a second…" the badly disorientated young woman paused. "Coco, since when did you get so tall?"

"Three! Get her!" Mac cried as the two charged forward.

"Hey, wait! What are you doing? What are you-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!"

"There's no such thing as demonic possession, there's no such thing as demonic possession, there's no such thing as…"

Bloo muttered fervently to himself over and over as he dully stirred his cereal with a badly shaking arm. Despite the macho imaginary friend he had made himself out to be the night before, it was quite clear that last the late-night movie obviously held a strong impact on him.

"Twirling head…floating above the bed…that green stuff she kept spewing…ewwww!" Bloo shuddered violently as gruesomely select scenes from last night's flick replayed over in his head. "It's okay, Bloo, it's okay. Just gotta get a hold on yourself. It was just a movie, nothing but a dumb movie. Yeah, just a stupid, cheesy movie made in the seventies. People do not get possessed by the-"

His frantic self-reassurances became interrupted as a hideous clatter erupted from the direction of the kitchen, starling all the breakfasting house residents.

"What on earth?" Mr. Herriman cried in surprise as he immediately hopped off to tend to the disturbance.

"Oh please, settle down everyone!" Madame Foster hurriedly reassured the startled residents in a soothing grandmotherly tone of voice. "It's okay, I'm sure its no problem! Frankie just probably dropped some pots, I'm sure its nothing for anyone to get all worked up about. Now, if we can all just-"

Ignoring the old woman's pleas to return to breakfasting however, Bloo quickly leapt from his seat and dashed over to the kitchen door, his curiosity naturally piqued by the commotion. However, rather than barge in and get a firsthand glance of what the commotion was all about, the imaginary friend's frazzled state of mind had left him feeling not-too-adventurous that particular day. Instead, Bloo decided to content himself with just pressing his head against the door, preferring to listen in rather than put himself in any frightful unnecessary danger, plus the possible scolding from Mr. Herriman. Taking a deep breath, the little imaginary breath leaned in and listened intently in a cautious attempt to figure out what was going on.

Only seconds after trying to hear what the fuss was about, almost immediately Bloo tore himself away from the door and backed off quickly, as if he had been leaning his head against a piece of scorching-hot metal. Taking refuge behind a nearby house plant, the quivering little creature took a wary glance back at the closed doorway, shaking his head wildly in a feeble attempt to clear his thoughts and somewhat comprehend what he had just heard.

"F-Frankie was just…no, no it couldn't be…b-but it sound just like…it s-s-sounded like…but h-how could she…was Frankie just speaking in tongues?"

To Bloo, the babbled garble that had heard Frankie shriek sounded just like the language of the possessed, as taught to him by last night's movie. However, little did he realize, the garble he had heard sputter from the feverish young woman's mouth was neither Latin, Greek, Aramaic, nor any other Biblical language. Frankie, being the college-educated woman she was, simply possessed a large vocabulary. Or, to put it another way, Bloo simply possessed very limited knowledge on the different swears and curses that existed in the English language.

"Miss Frances!" Mr. Herriman bellowed sternly at the girl who now lay limply in Wilt's hold, completely exhausted from her brief but epic struggle. "I am shocked! Where on earth did you learn that kind of language? I admit, it was probably quite unpleasant to be roughly subdued in such a fashion, but believe me young lady, that gives you no excuse to go firing off your mouth like some sort of-"

"Oh, shut up, Eduardo." A delirious Frankie mumbled grumpily, glaring at the rabbit through bleary eyes.

"See? There you go again! Just because you've temporarily lost the ability to differentiate between house residents gives you no right to be sucha despicable guttermouth!" the oversized rabbit dutifully lectured her. "My word, such awful, awful language! What would Master Mac say if he heard you acting as such an atrocious role model? Young lady, you better count your blessings and be glad that your charge is not-"

"Uh, Mr. Herriman?" Mac piped up weakly, tugging at Mr. Herriman's coattails. "Um…I kind of am here."

Mr. Herriman instantly put a halt to his reprimanding of the feverish house caretaker to warily glanced down to the wide-eyed eight-year-old standing next to him.

"Oh…ohhhhhhhhhhh….I see." The embarrassed imaginary friend murmured.

"M-Mr. Herriman?"the obviouslyvery stunned Mac whispered curiously. "What did Frankie mean by…y'know, when she was yelling about…and she kept on screaming that...well, what's a-"

"Ha ha oh nothing you need to worry about oh dear me look at the time mustn't be late for school don't you worry young sir we'll take over from here have a nice day!" Mr. Herriman babbled with a frighteningly forced smile. With that he scooped up the boy none-too-gently into his paws and made a mad dash in the direction of the foyer.

"But I normally don't leave for at least another half-hour! Hey! Hey!" Mac protested fruitlesslyas he was forcibly carried off, leaving Wilt alone to tend to the badly ailing Frankie.

"Say goodbye to Mac, Frankie."

"Goodbye to Mac, Frankie." The fever-stricken girl mumbled stupidly with a weak little wave, doing so in the completely wrong direction of course.

"Frankie…" Wilt sighed as he shook his head, gathering her up in his arm and cradling her like a baby. "C'mon, we better get you back to bed. I'll bring up some soup later for you, ok?"

"Okay…" Frankie replied with a pitiful whimper. Wilt flashed her a comforting smile as he made his way into the direction of the main staircase.

"It's probably a good thing we're dealing with this now. No telling what would've happened if we didn't find you like this until later."

Unfortunately, the damage had already been done.

"There's no such thing as demonic possession, there's no such thing as demonic possession, there's no such thing as demonic possession…"

Bloo found himself repeating the same reassurance again over and over as he worriedly paced about the winding hallways of Foster's in a desperate attempt to alleviate his worst fears. However, the endeavor was proving to be completely fruitless, judging by the way the frazzled little imaginary friend shivered uncontrollably as he warily made his way about the house.

"It's okay, it's okay, Bloo." He desperately tried to reassure himself. "You're just imagining things, that's all. Uh, yeah! Yeah, that's gotta be it! There's no way that Frankie can be possessed by uh…a demon. Yeah! So what if she was babbling uncontrollably in a another language? Pfft!" he scoffed haughtily to himself. "Oh yeah, like that really means she's actually been taken over by a…oh geez!" he managed to laugh at himself. "Just what the heck was I thinking? Frankie…possessed …hee hee!"

Bloo chuckled at himself as he plodded down the hallway. "Ha ha! Me…thinking she was…hee hee! Oh man, how'd I come up with that? I mean, if she had really been taken over by some kind of devil, than wouldn't her head be spinning around and stuff like in the movie?"

The little imaginary friend paused to picture the image in his mind, the very thought of Foster's caretaker turning a hundred and eighty degrees causing him to laugh even harder at the entire notion.

"Hahaha! Man, that's a good one. Ha ha! Yeah, and she'd be, uh, floating above the bed too! Heeheehee!" he giggled like a little schoolchild. "Yeah, yeah! And, uh…oh yeah! She'd also be spewing out that weird green stuff from her mouth, too. Ewwwww!" he jokingly grimaced. "I mean, what is that stuff, anyway? Ha ha! Gross!"

His worries momentarily alleviated, the little imaginary friend laughed uproariously to himself as he continued on his way down a random hallway. After practically being on the verge of wetting himself in fright, Bloo was now unable to hold back the tears of merriment that streamed down his face as he pictured the utterly ludicrous idea of Frankie hovering a foot above her bed and her head spinning around on her neck like a top.

"Heeheehee! Oh man, I gotta tell Mac about this when he gets home. Haha! Geez, I don't think I'm gonna be able to look at her with a straight face for about a-"

Bloo's mirth came to a crashing halt as an odd noise reach his ears (or at least where he'd have them).

"What the…?" he inquired curiously, cocking his head in the direction of the queer sound. After a few more seconds, he heard it again, the unmistakable sound of someone retching violently. Upon realizing it was coming from just down the corridor, the little imaginary friend immediately darted off in the direction of the noise, the vile sound of gagging quickly grabbing a firm hold of his curiosity.

"Oh man, what the heck is that?" Bloo mused as he rushed over to the room he believed the sounds were emitting from. "Heehee! Hey, if someone's doing what I think they're doing, than I can't wait to see Frankie's face when she finds out she has to…when she…when…she…"

The instant he peered into the partially open doorway, an instantaneous transformation swept through him. In less than a moment, Bloo's eyes practically bugged out of their sockets, his jaw dropped like a stone, his arms went limp at his sides like two noodles, and the color drained from his face faster than water from a sink. As soon as he saw the flash of sickening green, along with the unmistakable splotch of red, all his worst fears became confirmed within a second before his very own eyes. Within an instant he turned around and dashed off in a tiny azure blur, actually making it down two flights of stairs before his brain fully comprehend what had just happened and he could regain the ability to speak, which he used so to the fullest extent.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" he screamed as loudly as his little lungs would allow. "THE GREEN STUFF! THE GREEN STUFF! SHE WAS SPEWING OUT THE GREEN STUFF! I SAW FRANKIE SPEWING OUT THE GREEN STUFF, JUST LIKE IN THE MOVIE! AAAAAAAAAA! OH MY GOD! SHE'S POSSESSED! SHE'S POSSESSED! FRANKIE FOSTER HAS BEEN POSSESSED! SOMEONE GET AN OLD PRIEST AND A YOUNG PRIEST! SATAN HAS TAKEN OVER THE FOSTER'S CARETAKER! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" his mortified wails echoed loudly throughout the household.

"Ewwww." Wilt grimaced in disgust as he looked over the awful mess on the floor.

"I'm so sorry…." The quivering Frankie whimpered as she sat up in bed, clutching weakly at her chest. "I'm really…I'm so…I really tried to keep it all down, but…"

"Oh no, please don't! It's okay, Frankie, it's okay! I'll clean it up! It's okay!" The lanky imaginary friend quickly reassured her as he stepped forward to push the feverish caretaker gently back onto her pillows.

"Oh…okay…" the girl whispered wearily in response as she let herself flop limply back onto her mattress.

"There we go, that's it. Maybe trying to eat a little something wasn't the best idea. Just catch up on your rest for now, alright?" Wilt said gently as he began to pull the sheets over her.

"Wait, hold on." Frankie protested weakly as she tried to sit back up again, feeling about with badly shaking arms. "Hold on, where's my…where's…" she whined pathetically.

"Oh, right! Just a sec!" Wilt couldn't help but smile as he reached down to pick up the old teddy bear from where it had fallen on the floor. The moment he placed it in her arms, the girl clamped onto her beloved stuffed animal tightly and immediately let her eyes clamp shut.

"Thanks, Wilt." She murmured wearily as she quickly drifted off.

"Shhhh, go to sleep Frankie, go to sleep." Wilt hushed her soothingly as he tucked her in snuggly. "You'll feel a lot better after you get some more rest, okay?"

"Yeah…feel better…more sleep, that'll…"

Her incessant muttering was abruptly cut off as she fell fast into a deep sleep, looking for all the world like a napping toddler than an ill twenty-two-year-old young woman. Smiling warmly at the tender sight, Wilt gave her an affectionate pat on the head before he turned his attention to the sickly green mess that lay pooled in a vile mess next to her bed.

"Well, so much for keeping down her split-pea soup." The lanky imaginary friend sighed heavily. "I'm just glad no one else was around to see that. Yecch!"

Tucked away in a corner of his room, Bloo took quick check of the queer assortment of gear laid out on the floor before him.

"Bible…check! Priestly garments…check! Cheap plastic rosary…check! What else, what else…let's see…"

The little imaginary friend had decided rather quickly that is was of little use to go to the authorities, much less Mr. Herriman. With every moment wasted, a mysterious demon was consolidating its evil clutches on his friend, in his home. Action had to be taken, and it had to be taken now. He desperately wished that there was some other way, but sadly there wasn't. All evidence that he had told him that Frankie had somehow been possessed, and it was gaining rapid control of her fast. If she had gone from babbling uncontrollably in "tongues" to spewing green ectoplasmic ooze in only a little more than a few hours, what could possibly become of her next?

Hopefully not much, if Bloo was to have any say in the matter. If endless hours of mindless movie viewing had taught him anything, anyone possessed had to have the demons exorcised out of them. And if anyone needed an exorcism, it was Frankie, and she needed one badly.

The little imaginary friend could only hope that his good friend TV had taught him enough about how they were performed. Time was short, either he took matters into his hands now, or he risked the awful possibility of losing his friend forever.

"Alright, spawn of Satan." He growled as he threw all his equipment into a little sack. "This is it. Take hold of the body of our beloved Frankie, eh? Well buddy, you picked the wrong house. For I, Blooraguard Q. Kazoo-"

"What's that dearie?" Madame Foster asked inquired innocently as she peered into the bedroom, rudely interrupting his dramatic moment. "What's all this talk about-"

"AAAA!" Bloo squealed in surprise as he hurriedly threw the rest of his "exorcism" tools into his bag. "Nothing! Nothing! I mean, uh, I was just talking about, um…er…"

"Bloo honey, are you feeling alright?" the old woman asked with a look of worry. "You're not looking to good, maybe you're coming down with whatever Frankie has-"

"WHAT?" the little imaginary friend screamed in disbelief as his face turned a sickly pale shade in his horror. "You're saying I might have the same thing that FRANKIE has?"

"Well…" Madame Foster shrugged innocently. "I'm not saying it's not possible, it can spread about prettily easily. Maybe we should get you checked so-"

"No! No!" Bloo squealed incredulously. "You're saying that that kind of stuff spreads? Oh man, it's worse than I thought!"

"Bloo, what are-"

"DON'T WORRY FRANKIE! I'LL SAVE YOU FROM SPREADING YOUR DEMONIC POSSESSION! HELP IS ON THE WAY! I'M COMING, FRANKIE! I'M COMINGGGGGGG!" he shrieked as nabbed his gear and dashed past the little old lady down the hallway, screaming at the top of his lungs. Madame Foster only watched him rush away wildly moment before hobbling away, shaking her head with a grumble.

"It's probably best that I don't know."

Frankie stirred gently in her sleep. After squirming about a bit, she slowly opened her eyes with a weary groan. The girl had to admit, a little bit of rest certainly did wonders when one is momentarily incapacitated by disease. She still was feeling a little under the weather, but it was a far cry from the pathetically sickly creature she had been just hours before. With any luck, she'd be feeling completely back to her old self by tomorrow-

"And so it begins." Someone declared somberly.

"EEEK! Who said that?" Frankie squeaked in surprise, quickly realizing she wasn't alone. "Who are you? What the he-oh it's you." She muttered wearily, spotting the all-too-familiar ghost-shaped blob standing at the edge of her bed.

"Hello, Frankie…" Bloo began grimly, speaking in an eerily subdued tone of voice. Frankie just groaned as she let her head fall back into her pillow.

"Bloo, I'm still really not feeling very well, can you-"

"…Or should I say, evil possessing demon from the dark underworld?" Bloo bellowed accusingly, jabbing angrily at the sickly young woman. Frankie lifted her head again and cocked an eyebrow in total confusion.

"Wait, what? Demon? Bloo, what are you-HEY! What the!" she screamed indignantly as she suddenly realized she had suddenly lost the ability to move her arms or legs.

"BLOO!" she screamed furiously as she pulled at the makeshift restraints holding her securely in her bed. "Did you duct-tape me to the bedposts? Why you little-"

"Enough!" Bloo shouted resolutely as he began to make his way up the bed, a Bible clutched firmly in his arms. "This ends now, evil body-stealing fiend!"

As he slowly made his way forward, Frankie only began to struggle even more violently in her constraints, snarling ferociously at her captor.

"What on earth is going on here? What are you talking about? What are you trying to-BLOO!" she screeched angrily as she finally noticed flowing garment in which he was attired in. "Is that my favorite black T-shirt you're wearing?"

"Do not mock my holy vestments, foul creature" Bloo growled in response as he steadily made his way towards her.

"ARGH! Oooooh, Blooragaurd Q. Kazoo! If you don't let me go this very second, I'm gonna-"

"Beware, spawn of Satan, for your time has come." The little imaginary friend whispered gravely as he came to a halt on top of her chest.

"That's it, buddy! No more Miss Nice Guy! I'm-"

"Your hold on Frankie ends today! Prepare evildoer, to be blown away by the word of God!" Bloo announced, and with that he flipped open his Bible and began to furiously read out loud the first passage he opened up to.

"And behold! Thus says the Lord: Go, buy a potter's earthen flask. Take along some of the elders of the peole and of the priests, and go out toward the Valley of Ben-hin…uh, Ben-hi…um, wait…Ben-himmiom? No, hold on. Uhhhh…man, this is a tough! Ben-himian…wait…ummmm…"

Utterly confounded, Bloo turned the Bible around and shoved it into Frankie's face. "How do you pronounce this name? That one, right there next to-"

"BLOO!" the girl shrieked angrily, thrashing about wildly in her bed. "IF YOU DON'T LET ME GO RIGHT THIS INSTANT-"

"EEEK!" Bloo squealed in surprise to her violent reaction. "S-stop! Stop, evil d-d-demon!" he unsuccessfully tried to quiet the screaming Frankie through chattering teeth. "If you don't silence yourself this instant, I'll, uh…I'll…"

"…I WILL TAKE AWAY DESSERT FROM YOU FOR THREE MONTHS! DO YOU HEAR ME? I'LL-"

"Silence, foul demon! Silence!" Bloo squeaked in fright. "Silence, in the name of-"

"BLOOOOOOOO!"

"AAA! I said silence!" Bloo ordered in a quaking voice, close to losing his nerve. "The power of Christ compels you to be silent!"

"WHY YOU LITTLE-"

THWACK!

"OW" Frankie howled in pain as Bloo flat-out panicked and brought the heavy book crashing down onto her head.

"Dammit, Bloo, what the hell was that for?" she cried furiously.

The stunned self-proclaimed exorcist looked at her blankly for a second, then back to the Bible in his hand.

"Of course…yes, of course! That's it! That's how you use this thing!" he cried triumphantly. "Oh man, why didn't I see it before? Why just speak the word of God when I can use it to-"

"Bloo, what the hell are you talking about?" Frankie screamed. "Will you please tell me what you're doing and why you're talking like you're a-"

"Don't worry, Frankie! I just found the foul creature's weakness! I'll save you yet!" Bloo cried heroically as he raised the Holy Scripture high in the air again. "Evil scourge, you leave my friend alone this instant! The power of Christ compels you to do so!"

"EEK!" Frankie squealed in horror as she wriggled about desperately in her duct tape constraints. "Oh God, no! Please! No no no no no-"

THWACK!

"OUCH! QUIT IT!" Frankie shrieked angrily as the little imaginary friend dealt her another painful blow

"The power of Christ compels you!" Bloo dutifully repeated as he prepared to strike another blow for all that was righteous.

THWACK!

"OW! Please, stop!" the girl pleaded desperately