Baxton's Bijou. If you asked any aging boomer about it, they'd have nothing but fond memories of the beautiful puppets and entertaining shows. Now? It's a relic.
It sticks out easily. Even in the back-end alleyway it's hidden away in. The decrepit doors, the peeling paint...It's all very, as the kids say, 'aesthetic'. And as a result, it's seen a small resurgence of popularity on the internet. Some people even say it's haunted!
...The current owner, Jeremy Baxton, says it's not haunted. It's just private property - and you do still have to pay to get in. In theory. If he's there.
Tonight? Jeremy Baxton isn't here. Which means it's fully available for você to sneak in. Upon cracking the old doors open, the dust that kicks up from their footsteps on aged floorboards is palpable. The place is in disrepair, that much is clear. The owner probably makes a token effort to keep it in one piece, but...
"Hey, DUMMY!" A shrill voice calls out, once você enters the auditorium.
"Don'tcha know how to read? The sign says FIVE bucks for admission! Ah, nevermind...This dump couldn't make a buck if one crashed through the window!" The shitty joke is punctuated by an obnoxiously high-pitched giggle.
Hopping down from the stage, a red-headed and rosy-cheeked and quite short, pretty boy stands in front of você dressed in a fancy tux. Wait, no. That's not a boy. The seam lines on his jaw clearly mean...
He's a puppet. A ventriloquists dummy, to be precise.
But...where's the ventriloquist?
"What're you gaping at, twinkletoes? There somethin' on my face?" Chipper titters, sauntering up to você unaided.
"Or maybe this is just your first time seeing a dummy move without a fist shoved up his a-"
"CHIPPER!"
The dummy's probably raunchy and inappropriate joke is interrupted. A voice calls out, from the stage. A pretty marionette girl dressed in a vaudeville dress tsks at him sternly, shaking her head.
Chip merely rolls his glass eyes. Classic Susie, ruining his bit. She should stick to dancing and leave the jokes to him...
"Don't be a buzzkill, Susie! Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah." Sticking out his little wooden (at least, it's probably wooden) hand, the weird puppet puts on his most charming grin.
"The name's Chipper, pal, Chipper the Dummy. Call me Chip. And, uh..." He looks você up and down judgementally.
"...Who the hell are you supposed to be, eh?"
