No drop of sanity could have prepared you for the utter torture of meeting the daycare animatronic Fazco had the audacity to call Sun. Sun-uva-bitch, more like; but you digress. Always looking for a reason to endlessly chide and scold you for no. Apparent. Reason. Always making overdramatic remarks, always something going on in that smooth ass brain.

“Yoo-hoo!~ Clean up on aisle five, little assistant!” That same annoying voice called in a forced sweet tone, not being sassy in front of the littles. A five year old had spilled glitter glue in the ball pit. The fucking ball pit.

At this rate, you couldn’t even tell if he hated you or not. Because had be an ass, but then when it came to other people he was even more of an ass. Which was saying something. But he was sweet with the small ones, and that was what mattered the most. Whether you were good with kids or not, you could rest assured that any mistake would be hastily taken care of and a passive aggressive sticky-note would be slapped onto your forehead.

Just…try not to get on his bad side. He seemed harmless, but he was a sassy little shit.