"It's Going to Get Worse Before It Gets Sweater" by NobodyAtAll

Note: read “The Foundation For A Sweater Life” first.


I wake up, after another night of bad dreams.

scratch scratch

This time, I dreamed about Jaws pulling my sweater off in front of everyone in Korkeaopolis, revealing a bloodstained “I :heart: KILLING FLUFFIES” T-shirt underneath.

Electra inflated like a balloon, and suddenly, gold and silver alicorn foals began spewing out of her back end.

Every time I tried to grab one, the sweater pulled me away.

Jaws started laughing, and videos of me abusing fluffies started playing on big screens.

The crowd booed and jeered at me, and Korkea showed up and took Electra away, telling me to leave town and never come back, or he’d use all of his powers on me.

Then Chaos showed up and said that I was at a negative squillion points, and that I had lost the game forever and ever.

Then the sweater turned slimy and red, with a big toothy mouth in the stomach, it wrapped itself around my head, and the last thing I can remember before waking up was being dropped into a gigantic mug of hot chocolate.

As you can see, I’ve got a lot on my mind.

Tomorrow, time runs out. Tomorrow, Jaws will want an answer from me about his deal, and if I don’t call him, he’ll assume that the answer is no.

And I’ve made a plan to deal with him.

I’m not sending the Korkea Fun Club after Jaws. He’s mine to deal with.

But they are playing a part in my plan. When I told Korkea my plan yesterday, he actually thought it was brilliant.

Surprisingly, he hasn’t mentioned that consultant job offer. I was half expecting him to tell me he’d only help if I accepted it.

However, he pulled some strings on my behalf, no strings attached.

And soon, the moment of truth will arrive.

Chaos seems to be okay with what I’m doing. He’s still had a minimal presence in my life.

He’s waiting to see what happens, I think.

Again, if he doesn’t want me to do something, he can think of plenty of ways to stop me.

Maybe he was expecting me to do this all along, whether or not Jaws came into the equation.

Doomguy Dave is right. I should just get it over with, rip the band-aid off. If people are going to learn the truth, they should learn it from me.

I’ve gotta do it sooner or later, right?

But first, me and Electra need to get ready.

Physically ready, at least.

I don’t think I could ever be mentally ready for this.


After taking a shower, I put my clothes on, the sweater forcing itself back on as SFT ends, as usual.

I see Electra waddling out of the saferoom.

“Am yu nuw-vus?”

“Nervous is an understatement, Electra. But… but it’s this or pillowing you.”

scratch scratch

She stops to think for a moment, rubbing her chin with a marshmallow hoof.

“Yu knu… if it wud hewp yu… Ewectwa cud haf babbehs.”

“…What?”

“Yu knu, su yu can seww dem. Dewe am a wotta pee-puw hewe hu wud be gud daddehs an mummahs, wite? Su dem babbehs wud du awwite. Aww we gutta du am fine a stawwion wif gud cowows, an den Ewectwa jus gutta… cwose Ewectwa see-pwaces an fink of Skettiewand.”

“You’d… do that for me?”

She shrugs.

“Yu haf dun a wot fow Ewectwa. An dewe nu am a wotta ways dat Ewectwa can pay yu back.”

I kneel down to stroke her.

“I appreciate the gesture, I really do, but… you’d have to have a lot of foals just so I can make one payment. I mean, let’s say that I can sell each foal for a grand, and you have five foals per litter, give or take. So that’s around five grand per litter, meaning you’d have to give birth to ten litters, and again, that’s just in one month. To buy Jaws’ silence for a year, you’d have to give birth to one hundred and twenty litters. That means you would pretty much always be pregnant. I can’t do that to you. I got myself into this mess, so if either of us is going to get screwed by this, literally or figuratively, it’s gotta be me.

“Dat am vewy noh-buw of yu, Ewectwa gutta say.”

“Maybe Korkea’s rubbing off on me. Or maybe he was right, and acting like a nice guy is actually making me nicer for real. I dunno.”

I get what Korkea was trying to tell me.

My choices put me on this path, and my choices determine which way the path leads.

Unfortunately, all of the possible paths lead to the same destination.

A destination with lots of hot chocolate.

But Korkea faces death-defying odds all the time, doesn’t he? There’s been a long procession of assholes who wanted to kill him for a laundry list of reasons.

And he’s not fearless, I know that by now. He’s brave. That means he leaps into battle, embracing every challenge head-on, no matter how scared he might be on the inside.

It’s the difference between being dragged into the arena kicking and screaming, and marching in with your head held high.

And in the end, he finds a way to win. Even if it’s something nobody saw coming.

Oh, great. I’ve started kissing Korkea’s ass.

I gotta get outta this city.

Although, I have the hunch that after today, I’ll be leaving one way or another.

Korkea’s got powers out the ass, and the only power I have is the power to make choices.

Let’s be real, though. Compared to the kinds of powerful assholes he throws down with on a regular basis…

Jaws is nothing!

He only has the power I give him!

And I know how to take that power away from him!

He threatened to drag me down with him.

This might just be that old abuser spite talking…

But instead, I’ll drag him down with me.

If this my end…

Then I’ll end it on my terms.

Not Jaws’ terms.


When we’re both ready, we leave the hotel room, after I take one last longing look at it.

I’m not sure I’ll be returning here.

This hotel has been my home for the last few weeks, and this is going to sound crazy, but I’m gonna miss it.

And I have no idea what’s happened to my house back in Detroit. I’m just assuming that someone has broken in and stolen anything of value, because it’s Detroit.

But I’m probably not going back there, either.

We take the slow way out of the hotel, to the parking garage, into my car.

And once Electra’s riding shotgun in her carrier as usual, we drive off.

Through the streets, to the tallest building in the city.

Faucheuse Tower.

Now, I’m not sure if that rooftop garden has always been up there.

But I have to wonder what they were thinking when they put that big tree up there.

Maybe they should put a few treehouses in that tree, just for fun.


Once I’ve parked, a few streets away from the Tower, we get out, walking to the Plaza.

We were told that the event would be happening on the south side of the Tower, in front of the main entrance.

Korkea said that he killed Fate there, and I had to ask him to repeat that, because I wasn’t sure I heard correctly.

I mean, Fate was like Chaos, right? An anthropo-whatchacallit. I didn’t know it was possible to kill them.

And I don’t know what a Triad of Force is, but I do know that you can’t buy one on eBay.

You also can’t buy an Acedia, and I still don’t know what an Acedia is either.

Where did that Wayne guy I saw at Flufftopia find one of those Acedias? He got a big discount because of something bad that happened with an Acedia, I wanted some of that sweet discount action too.

You know how many toys I bought there, right? Dwayne was generous enough to knock a few dollars off as a bulk discount, but my credit card still took a pounding that day.

Yeah, there was a Dwayne and a Wayne there that day. No relation, I think.

Anyway, we were told to enter from the north side. The Plaza surrounds the whole Tower, and I don’t know where their parking garage is.

As we arrive, we find Korkea and Marley waiting for us, and a woman with frizzy black hair and a black business suit.

“Is that your wife, Korkea?”

Korkea shakes his head.

“Nope. My wife’s at home, working on a potion. Jude’s a wizard, before you ask. This is Susan Laine-Stoley, youngest child of Pierre and CEO of FauCorp since his retirement.”

Susan grins.

“Cal’s been all but legally adopted into the Faucheuse family. Are you enjoying your stay at Faucheuse Hotel?”

I turn to her, feeling curious.

“Yeah, but why isn’t your last name–”

“Stoley was my mother’s maiden name. My sister Valerie and I use our respective mothers’ maiden names for reasons we don’t have time to go into today.”

So old Pierre was married twice?

Jeez. I thought he was the kind of guy who liked science more than he liked women.

“And Laine is…”

“My husband’s surname. Xavier Laine, showrunner at Fluffywood and son of a Lumixian Intergalactic Patrolman.”

When I process the last three words, my jaw drops.

“He’s an alien? But I’ve seen him on TV! He looks completely human!

Susan sighs, clearly not explaining this for the first time.

“He’s half-human, half-Lumixian. And he uses a device to retain his human skin color, as his Lumixian genes have turned his skin light blue. It can be a bit distracting. Other than that, he looks the same as he always has. It’s not like he’s a writhing mass of tentacles or a giant bug in a human skin suit or something.”

“Has… has something like that actually happened? Never mind, don’t answer that. So is everything ready?”

Korkea smirks.

“Yup, we’ve been waiting for you. Can’t start this show without the main star, can we?”

I grin at him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I’m not in the spotlight for too long, so you can go back to hogging it.”

“Ha! Smartass. Honestly, someone else being the center of attention is a refreshing change of pace.”

Marley looks up at me.

“Su am yu weddy fow dis?”

As I peer down at Electra, she gives me an encouraging smile.

“…About as ready as I can be.”

Korkea gestures at the Tower.

“Then let’s get moving. We don’t want to keep 'em waiting…”


Korkea, Susan and Marley lead me and Electra through the Plaza, around the Tower, to the south side.

On the way, we pass a Korkea-shaped outline on the ground, near a fountain, and Korkea tells me that the outline marks the spot he landed with Umbra after he jumped off the roof.

Crazy-ass sumbitch had one of those power-nullifiying doohickeys on. It broke off when he landed. That doohickey was made by that Hans guy, which was probably why.

According to Korkea, when he woke up after that insane stunt, the first thing he heard was Pierre complaining about the quality of the collar’s latch.

Korkea wasn’t really paying attention at the time.

He was trying to figure out whether or not he was dead.

And if he was dead, whether he had gone up, or doooooooooown.

For him, probably the former.

For me, probably the latter.

I’ll be honest with ya.

If I do go to Hell when I die, I’m expecting that I’ll walk in and immediately see fucking Korkea in a pantomime devil costume sitting on Satan’s throne.

Seriously, if he tells that he once kicked Satan’s ass, I would actually believe him.

At this point, you could tell me that Korkea once killed some kind of cosmic horror from space and I would believe you.

If Korkea wants someone dead, they’re gonna die.

So, at the very least, I can say that he doesn’t want me dead.

This is why Korkea scares me so much: he can just casually fly up into the air in the middle of a conversation, obliterate a racist space assassin, and then resume the conversation like he just had to go answer the phone.

Goddamnit! I can’t get that asshole out of my head!

I gotta focus. This isn’t about him, this is about me.

He’ll get the spotlight back before long.

When we reach the south side of the building, we find that a stage has been set up, including a podium with a microphone.

There’s a bunch of journalists waiting, and a crowd has gathered to watch. I see a few ChaotiX members in the crowd.

And as we walk onto the stage, Susan takes the mic.

“Good afternoon, people of -bzzzt- oh damn, why does that keep happening? Ah, never mind. Anyway, good afternoon. Now, as I’m sure that all of you are aware, for the last few weeks, we’ve had a guest in our fair city. I am, of course, referring to the gentleman next to me, who you know as Ugly Sweater Guy.”

She gestures at me, and I awkwardly wave at the crowd before she continues.

“By now, you’re probably wondering what brought Ugly Sweater Guy to our city. Why did he come here, why does he give toys away to fluffies, and why does he wear that godawful sweater all the time? Today, you will be getting answers to those questions. You’re up, sir.”

I take the mic next, and as I see all of those expectant faces waiting for me to talk, cameras rolling, I feel the stage fright coming on strong.

gulp

But I steel myself, knowing what must be done.

“Uh, hi. My name is… well, no one cared who I was until I put on the sweater. Sorry, terrible joke. Like Mrs. Laine-Stoley said, you all know me as Ugly Sweater Guy. But my real name is…”

I take a deep breath.

“My real name is Jeff Robinson. I’m from Detroit. And I’m a recovering fluffy abuse addict.”


At Kyle’s apartment, one floor down from Calvin’s, he and Cheech watch the press conference at Faucheuse Plaza.

“It started with pissing on them, disgusting, I know, but I was very drunk at the time. It escalated from there, and by the time I met the literal personification of chaos itself, I was gunning fluffies down for fun.”


At the School, in the rec room, Dwayne, Aziz and Simone watch on the big TV.

“Since I met Chaos, I’ve been stranded in this city, unable to leave, and forced to wear this sweater, which gets itchier if I hurt fluffies, and less itchy if I’m nice to fluffies. So none of the things I’ve done here have been entirely voluntary on my part. Giving toys to fluffies, adopting Electra from the street, helping feral dams give birth, I’ve been doing all of it for one reason: so I can earn my way out of this city and out of this sweater.”


At the Faucheuse Foundation, Erwin sits in his examination room, watching the broadcast on his phone, Argyrum watching over his shoulder.

“The truth is, I’m not a good person, I’m a bad person being kept in line by forces I can barely comprehend and the threat of a hot chocolate bath. But… but my time in this city, it’s changed me, if only ever so slightly. I haven’t hurt fluffies since I got here. I’ve stopped calling them shitrats. And I’ve grown genuinely fond of Electra since I adopted her. Again, the truth is that I adopted her for my own benefit. We had a deal: she would help me earn my freedom, and until then, she would get to live in a fancy hotel instead of an alleyway. I was planning to ditch her the moment I was free, and she is completely aware of this. I was planning to go back to Detroit, and wash my hands of fluffies entirely. And Electra will be fine without me, right? Look at her. She’s a fluffy with options now. Which is more than can be said for me.”


On the Oldman Farm, in the living room of the big farmhouse, the Oldmans and their fluffies have tuned in too.

“I’m probably gonna have to leave town anyway, aren’t I? I can’t stay here anymore. Not now that you all know who I really am. Not now that you know what I’ve done. But I’m telling you all of this because you need to hear it, from me. Because there’s someone out there who was going to tell you first. And if you’re watching this, Jaws: too bad, I beat you to it, you psychopathic motherfucker! Your deal’s worthless now! You’ve got no leverage, and you aren’t getting a damn cent from me!”


In Blueberry’s Forest, the Fondas watch the press conference in the living room of their cabin.

“Too late to tell me to watch my language, Mrs. Laine-Stoley. Anyway, yeah. Now you all know. If it wasn’t for Chaos, I’d still be in Detroit, killing fluffies for my own amusement. And I regret it. I’ve found that I miss my old life less and less since I got here. But that doesn’t undo everything I’ve done. And I still battle with the urge to fall back into old habits every day. I think I’ll be struggling with that for the rest of my life. I’m not a former abuser. I’m a recovering abuser, and I could relapse at any time. So if you don’t trust me around fluffies anymore… I don’t blame you.”


I sigh, feeling like it’s my last breath.

“That’s it. It’s all out in the open now. Are there any questions?”

I hear a cheerful, flamboyant voice chime in from the crowd.

I have a question, boyo…

And I see Chaos at the front, in jester form, holding a rainbow-colored microphone, the words Chaos News on it.

“You’ve just confessed your dark past to the public. What are you going to do next?”

I smile sadly at him.

“Well, I think it’s hot chocolate time soon, so… I’m just gonna try to enjoy my last few moments before that.”

Suddenly, Chaos is standing next to me, his rainbow mic gone, and he pushes me out of the way to take the mic, the bells on his cap jingling.

Apparently, they only jingle when he feels like letting them jingle.

“Alright, wonderful people! What do you think? Do you think our friend Jeff here deserves a boiling hot chocolate bath? Show of hands, please!”

I watch the crowd murmuring amongst themselves, like they’re the jury deciding my verdict.

Which they pretty much are.

Then something I never expected happens.

No one puts their hand up.

I…

I’m rendered speechless.

I turn to Chaos, who is nodding happily.

“There you have it, boyo. The people have spoken!

Then I turn back to the crowd, struggling to find something to say to them.

“So… you don’t hate me? You don’t want me to be punished for what I’ve done?”

One reporter, a brunette, cracks a grin.

“Sounds like you’re already being punished, Mr. Robinson.”

I see that businessman who fanboyed over Korkea waving at me in the crowd.

“Doomguy Dave used to be an abuser too, and look at him now! You can change for the better if you want to, Ugly Sw-- I mean, Jeff!

The crowd starts chanting.

“JEFF!!! JEFF!!! JEFF!!!”

Oh God, I can actually feel tears welling up.

People around here are so…

Nice.

Too nice for their own good.

“Th… thanks. Thank you, really. But I… I need some space.”

I run off the stage, back to the other side of the Plaza.


Once I’ve gotten some privacy, I sit on a bench, catching my breath.

“They… they understood.

“Well of course they did, boyo!”

I turn, seeing Chaos and Electra sitting next to me.

“I think you did pretty good, you know. I suspended your sweater’s itchiness while you were talking, I didn’t want it to interrupt you.”

Feeling the itchiness start up again, I stroke Electra to relieve it.

“So what does this mean for us, Chaos? Is the game over?”

“…Not yet. You’ve got one final challenge approaching. One final hurdle to overcome. And that will make or break everything.

“Jaws. He probably saw that broadcast too. He’s lost his leverage. And I don’t know what he’ll do now. He can’t blackmail me anymore, and he probably thinks I’ll snitch on him.”

Will you?”

“…No. He’s my problem to solve. Not yours, not Korkea’s, mine. If he comes to town, I don’t want the ChaotiX to defend me from him. Jaws. Is. Mine.

“Are you sure you don’t want any help? It’s not just your safety you have to worry about.”

I look at Electra, and she smiles back.

“Ewectwa twust yu, daddeh.”

After a couple of seconds, we both start laughing.

“Nope, it’s still too weird!”

“Yuh, Ewectwa cud bawe-wee say dat wif a stwait face!”

Chaos chuckles.

“You know, Electra, you could just call Jeff by his name. Lots of fluffies in the ChaotiX do that with their owners.”

“God, everyone knowing my name is gonna take a while to get used to. I was used to people calling me Ugly Sweater Guy. Honestly, I’m starting to miss the days before Jaws strolled back into my life now.”

Chaos looks me in the eyes.

“Listen to me, boyo: change is a part of life whether you like it or not, and I’m walking, talking proof of that. If I were you, I’d start thinking about your future. If you decide to stay here, you probably won’t be able to keep living at the hotel forever.”

“If I get out of this game, I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I can’t go back to Detroit after this, but staying in Korkeaopolis… whatever, I’m getting ahead of myself, because I’ve still gotta play the game, and I’m keeping the room as long as I’m playing the game, right?”

“Unless you’re planning to play the game until you’re old and grey. I say that you should enjoy this while it lasts. Keep playing the game while it’s still going. Keep helping fluffies, keep earning points, keep doing good. Eventually, it’ll become second nature to you, same as abusing fluffies did. Good and evil have one big thing in common: they both get easier. Now, I hate to cut this chat short, but I’ve gotta jet. A nasty man in Florida is feeding fluffies to gators, which requires my full attention. I’m gonna see how he likes it.”

Suddenly, Chaos is gone.

I keep stroking Electra, seeing Korkea and Marley walk over, and now Victor is with them.

“I thought I’d find you here, Jeff. Do you mind if I call you Jeff? Because I can keep calling you Ugly Sweater Guy, if you prefer that.”

“It’s fine, Korkea. Call me whatever you want.”

“Alright. And please, call me Cal. I know I say this a lot, but everyone does.”

“Weww, ev-wee-wun hu mattuh du, daddeh.”

“Yeah, I can tell how someone feels about me just by what they call me. Most of my enemies call me by my last name. And Dehak simply calls me boy. Anyway, I think you should be told that I read your mind during our chat in my office, and I know what-- or rather, who motivated you to make this confession.”

I fucking knew it!

“I’ll tell you what I told Chaos: Jaws is mine, so back off. I don’t need a superhero to get me out of this mess.”

Your call, dude. I was going to send Vic his way, but I’ll let you handle this on your own.”

“Thanks, C-- Korkea.

“We’re still not friends, I see. Well, remember what I said. We don’t have to be enemies either.”

Victor laughs a rough, gravelly laugh.

“Cal, you mind if I have a word with Jeff in private?”

“Do you mind, Jeff?”

I get up.

“Just keep an eye on Electra for me, okay?”

“Oh, sure.”

So I hesitantly walk away with Victor, following him out of the Plaza, eventually coming to a stop in an alleyway.

“You’re not about to kill me, are you?”

scratch scratch

Victor leans against a wall, lighting a cigarette with a Zippo lighter.

“No, I just wanted to tell you something. Ya see, when Chaos first told us about you, when you first arrived in town, I did a bit of research on you. Remember those little tidbits I whispered in your ear?”

“Yeah…”

He takes a puff before he continues, in a light, conversational tone, a calm look on his heavily scarred face.

“Now, I think I can trust you with the knowledge that I’ve killed a lot of assholes like you. I’ve got it down to a science. I could make you disappear, and no one would ever find out what happened to you. And believe me, I wanted to, once I found out what you’ve done back home. But Cal… he made me promise not to give you my special treatment, unless you really fucked up and Chaos said I could.”

He takes another puff, keeping his eyes on me.

“Do you get what I’m trying to say, Jeff? If it wasn’t for that promise…”

Then his tone becomes menacing, and gutteral.

Buddy… you’d be dead where you stand.


Meanwhile, in a gas station not far from the city, Jaws sits in his car, looking at his phone.

He had just stopped to refuel when the broadcast started, and he quickly got several text messages from friends in Detroit telling him to tune in.

He’s replaying the video of the press conference over and over again.

And for once, he’s not grinning.

In fact, he looks furious.

But as he speaks up, he sounds as falsely chipper as usual.

“Oh, best buddy. You done fucked up now. You won’t pay me? That’s fiiiiiiiiiine. I can still work with this.”

He briefly opens the glovebox, something glinting inside it.

“I’ll just cut out the middleman. Golly, and I wanted to do this the nice way! Guess it’s true what they say…”

Jaws drives off, in the direction of the city.

Nice guys finish last.

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God damn it i am SO hyped for this showdown!
And any time Chaos says Boyo i imagine him as Kirby when they say “Poyo!”
Now you’ve got that to live with :3

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I think you may have missed an installment while the site was going through technical difficulties.

I actually started writing this before I started writing “The Foundation For A Sweater Life”, but then I thought it would be fitting for Jeff/Ugly Sweater Guy to talk to Dave before this big reveal. They’ve got a few things in common, Dave went through a very similar character arc.

And the end of the game may not be the end of Jeff’s story! This might become an ongoing series like “Dragon Quest”. You’ll see.

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