PAT SYNDROME

My Kids🫀♥️.

Hirambavious galloped along the sidewalk and fell forward, his mother stared down at him as he slowly rolled towards the center of the road.

"My baby boy!" it yelled his name, yearning for any response.

(Hirambaviouses mother uses it/she/them/they/dreamself/dreamthey pronouns)

"MOM I CANT STOP FUCKING ROLLING HELP ME." Hirambavious soon rolled near the edge of the river, his mother not being too far behind, but dreamthey was visibly gasping for air considering the significant distance it had ran from the intersection.

He felled head first into the river, he tried using his diabetes fanny rescue pack to inflate a floatie but it popped due to the 800 pound child weighing on it.

"AW FUCK, MA. I SHOULD'VE STOPPED EATING WHEN YOU ASKED ME TO. P-Please he-help.. mom.. the waters getting——"

Hirambaviouses head and entire airway was soon engulfed by the waters brutally aggressive current.
Klamidiah stood there and watched as her oldest child was pulled into the subtly but unforgiving current. She began to wander, she allowed every inch of her mind to roam in whatever direction it could. She sat down, subconsciously smiling.

"I can't swim, fat fuck. You're on your own, Hirambé."

She walked through a familiar trail, a trail that would take her somewhere she knew she shan't be but always gave in to the seductive image of Pat Jefferson in her mind.

The Jefferson's house was really torn apart and shitty looking; a few dead animals lay spread around the front yard.
Klamidiah found the style of hoardery attractive, specifically the way Pat Jefferson would leave bloody diapers laying in the hallway that forced the livingroom and kitchen side-by-side.

Klamidiah walked in, mentally noting the stench of BO and vomit.
She was surprised when something rolled near her lower abdomen. This thing that she had seen in the corner of her eye portrayed the image of a bowling ball, it soon unfolded and revealed something far more alluring.

Rowley Jefferson stood up, staring at Klamidiahs torn lip, which he could only assume was the result of a hood fight she'd been involved in a day or so prior.

"My son is dead, Rowley." She sobbed into her stubby and chewed-looking hand, it almost looked fake, like an obese dolls hand. Rowley decided he had enough of her bullshit, ever since his mother's death 1 year before, Klamidiah Ainsley had been blowing his father and he detested her for that.

"Okay? Go look for a pediatrician, you prepubescent fat fucking dyke."

With that, Rowley stormed off, fighting the urge to punch her in the throat as hard as he could. He hated his father, Pat, for liking bigger women. Rowley himself hadn't been so slim but at least he was aware.
Pat Jefferson walked around as if he were actually shit. He thought of himself as a god, and maybe he was among obese women in their late-40s.

Minutes later, Rowley was on his phone, texting his situationship, Greg Heffley.

They started off as friends but both knew they
wanted more. Rowley and Greg had been dating for a few months now, actually.
He once slapped Greg in the face in the hallway in front of the whole school because Greg was staring a Patty's ass for 3 seconds.

They didn't speak for a week after that, but they eventually met up and made out after.

Rowley raised his head at the familiar clicking of his fathers bedroom door handle.
That fat whore was no good when set up with Pat Jefferson.

I have to get rid of this fat bitch, Rowley thought, walking towards the bedroom door with a baseball bat in-hand.