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[anonslimes]

Punching a bucket over and over again until everything is okay but it’s not

Description: “I don’t understand how he could just….do that. It’s utterly ridiculous. Stanley that bastard. Oh how I hate him. Always wanting to have control and apparently thinking that getting rid of me makes that possible. But no, he needs to understand that he needs me. No one else will protect him like I will. No one. Really what was he thinking? That he can just toss me away. That he can abandon me here? Thinking he can do it on his own? Hah. He might just be crazy. I know one thing, I’m not crazy. In, fact I’m far from it in fact I-“ or exactly what the title says! We

Tags: The Stanley Parable, Tsp Narrator, Tspud bucket, mentions of Stanley, Short fanfic, Angst, Physical Violence?

Author’s note: This is based off of a roleplay with me and my friends where the Narrator gives the silly bucket the ability to talk. The Narrator is in physical form for this story and he can look like whoever you want. The context is that Narrator is handed the reassurance bucket by Stanley before Stanley runs into the skip button building and presses the skip button before the Narrator can stop him. This is around the final few skips where the Narrator is present. Apologies for any grammatical errors.

The narrator looked at the building once again. The door had long since disappeared so there was no way of telling if Stanley was even conscious. Was it worth noting? Time didn’t feel relevant anymore so he hadn’t kept track of it.

However, he had taken a lot of time to reflect on his thoughts, on everything that had happened. And his thoughts were mostly filled with a burning anger that made him want to set fire to the world. Then after spending about four hours ranting about it out loud he would calm down and go back to looking at that building as if somehow Stanley would teleport back out.

“I don’t understand how he could just….do that. It’s utterly ridiculous. Stanley that bastard. Oh how I hate him. Always wanting to have control and apparently thinking that getting rid of me makes that possible. But no, he needs to understand that he needs me. No one else will protect him like I will. No one. Really what was he thinking? That he can just toss me away. That he can abandon me here? Thinking he can do it on his own? Hah. He might just be crazy. I know one thing, I’m not crazy. In, fact I’m far from it in fact I-“

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up!” The bucket yelled out in frustration.

This made the Narrator stop his ramble and glare at the metal thing. He disliked that bucket. No, he hated that bucket. He wished he had never made that mistake. He wanted to wipe it off of the face of his story.

“Silence you thing. You know what you are? You are a bucket. Just a damn bucket! I don’t have to listen to an object that will never be good enough for anything more than transporting liquids!” The Narrator snapped

“Hah, that’s bullshit! I have brought more joy and comfort to Stanley than you could have ever imagined. In fact I bet I make him happier that you do” The bucket replied

“I made you, I gave you to Stanley. Without me you would have meant nothing! So what if Stanley enjoyed your comfort? That was your purpose! But Stanley’s not here, so you are useless right now, absolutely useless” The Narrator could feel his face turning red.

“Tell me, Narrator, does Stanley even like you? Really think about it. You have always given him every reason to despise you, in fact, that’s probably why he left you here in the first place. I was probably just a distraction so he could run and leave you here to rot and die. That’s what I would have done. That’s what anyone with a brain would have done. You’re a selfish man who likes making others suffer for your enjoyment. You would be a mess without Stanley’s attention. Stanley is too good for you. You are not enough for him. I hope someday you realize this and go burn in hell you piece of sh-“

The narrator slammed his fist so hard into the bucket that he could hear the metal being twisted. When he pulled his hand back he could see the large dent he had created. His mouth itched to apologize but then he had a realization. He didn’t need to apologize, he didn’t need to do anything. Stanley wasn’t there. Right now, it was just him and the bucket.

So he punched it again, and again, and again. Punching it over and over again as a sadistic spread across his face. It felt good, it felt so good just to let it out. Not having to simply tolerate it and move on. Here, in this very moment, he was in control. And he loved it.

Soon he tired himself out and the bucket was starting to bend into another shape so he simply just plopped himself down and laid on the ground. He looked up into the sky, the clouds were as grey as he felt. This was his memory zone after all.

He closed his eyes, and it started to rain. The water fell onto his face and mixed in with the tears coming from his eyes. Here in this very moment, He was alone. And he was scared. “The end…is never the end…is never the end….” The narrator began saying it over and over and over…