I just thought you’d feel better about playing if you could hear yourself better. “Hey, I’m not tryin’ to make fun of ya’ or anything. “I should know better I was brought into this world to entertain, for Pete’s sake!” He noticed your gaze was locked with your feet, and his face softened. “Oh, uh, didn’t think of that,” He sheepishly chuckled. “Um, I’m no good at this yet and you’re putting me on stage? I’m feeling as self conscious as a middle schooler,”īendy’s face fell. Your voice carried to the other end of the room.īendy chuckled. Bendy paid them no mind and guided you to the front of the stage. Small ink people, or ‘searchers’, according to Bendy, flitted about tidying up and preparing for the evening activities.
#HOW TO PLAY BENDY AND THE INK MACHINE ON THE UKULE FULL#
However, you were surprised at how messy it was crates everywhere full of supplies, lighting equipment everywhere, and dozens of costumes for performers laid haphazardly about. You never been behind the large stage in the dining area. “Really? That’s the first thing that comes to your mind?” “If you played that as your toon form, it’d be like you playing a full sized guitar!” You laughed.īendy’s face fell into shock, followed by disappointment. “Yeah?” Bendy’s voice dripped with confidence. “Alice can’t play to save her life,” He played a few notes. “Let me think.Boris don’t know squat ‘bout guitars,” Another strum. He then strummed the strings, the chord ringing through the air like a harp’s. His gaze turned skyward in thought while he tuned the strings. “IIIII might~,” Bendy plucked the ukelele from your hands. Figured it’d be easier to learn a smaller guitar.” Then you scratch your head. “When I was a kid, I wanted to play the guitar but I never found the time to learn.
As in, like, three days ago,” Your thumb grazed the neck. Mind tellin’ me why ya’ never mentioned you could play?” He peeked over your shoulder. However, he waved his hand in a placating maner. “I-I wasn’t slacking off, I swear!” You hide the ukulele behind your back as you turned in your chair to face him. Startled, you yelped and the ukelele jumped from your arms, spun in the air for a minute, before you caught it in your chest. You rubbed your finger tips together, not yet callused. An unpleasant chord rang through the air, and you frowned. Your fingers fiddled with the tuning pegs and strummed the strings. Second hand, it bore a scratch here and there on the body and soundhole. You look over your shoulder, then unzipped the bag. Normally you brought a book to read or do crosswords in, but your disturbance in your routine changed that.
Or maybe you just weren’t worth the trouble of harassing or flirting.īut it was a Sunday, which meant fewer calls. Perhaps because you were the only human that worked there, and they found familiarity in that. For drug dealers, thieves and what you assumed were pimps, they were unexpectedly polite to you. Your responsibilities involved answering the phone and occasionally greeting certain ‘customers’. As a receptionist to an illegal operation, your job was surprisingly pleasant. Once you reached your desk, you sat the bag on the table to the side and sat down. You didn’t answer, and walked out the door carrying your bag. He scowled, “How many times do I gotta tell you not to use my catch phrase?!” “If it ain’t what I think it is, then I’m outta here,” “Are ya’ smuggling stuff, or is that what I think it is?” Then you stuffed your backpack inside and slammed the door shut. You pulled out another, smaller bag in a peculiar shape. Wally slowed his cleaning at the sound of your backpack unzipping and you rummaging inside it. However, what if one of your belongings wasn’t worth stealing? Surly then no one would mind if you carried it with you? The only reason you put into a locker was because Bendy got one just for you and insisted you lock up your belongings so he ‘couldn’t be responsible if some idiot snatches your purse’. Your backpack slumped out of the locker and fell to your feet. “Might as well be, by the way he’s working me to the bone,” “Besides, he’s not THE devil.right? Like, Satan or whatever?” Groaning, he stuck his mop into his pail, and mopped it up. “Surprised you ain’t scared outta ya’ panties, yet, miss,” He dripped more ink behind him. You jumped, but sighed when you saw Wally Franks, the blobulous janior that often had to clean up his own inky mess as well as everyone else’s, mopping a wet spot in the corner. “You’re crazier than I thought, talkin’ to objects like that,” You wanted to shove it inside, but that wasn’t an option due to its contents. This time however, your backpack barely fit inside it. You had a routine when you got into work stuff your backpack into a locker, clock on, and get to work.
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