Tales from the Former Universe

37. His Special One

It was the day, for both their chance together to show the tales to the world. Arlaion had rented an expensive jacket and a classical hat to perform the story.

"ARLAION!!" his father shouted. "GET YOUR ASS IN HERE, NOW!!"

Arlaion hung his jacket and hat on his stand. He went out of his room and down the stairs, finding his parents and Mr. Mychal in front of his father.

"What the hell, Arlaion?!" his father was thoroughly and vehemently disappointed. "I already told you to have enough of these shenanigans."

"Father... I..." Arlaion stuttered fragile.

"He approached our boy!" the father shouted.

"We had to take action!" the mother shouted.

"How could you, Arlaion?! How could you harm their child?!" his father questioned.

"Father, I didn't..." Arlaion begged to reason.

"HOW COULD YOU?!" his father shouted louder.

"Sheriff... please," Arlaion had hoped.

"I'm... I'm sorry," Mr. Mychal said. "You... you breached the law for minors... you must pay the fine."

"We're leaving to see Tayshawn!" the mother said.

"Come, deputy!" the father called, and there was nothing Mr. Mychal could do.

"How..." his father was dissapointed. "HOW COULD YOU?!"

HIS FATHER GRASPED AND PINCHED ARLAION'S SHOULDERS, STRENGTHENING TO DISCIPLINE HIM. Arlaion desperately freed back, crashing into the wall, begging for his life as his family looked in shame, even his butlers.

"How could you, Arlaion?" Zubilee questioned.

"You bring shame to Jellinger's name!" Alberidge scolded.

"Please," Arlaion begged. "I... would never do that... I..."

"You think you can be whatever you want, huh?" his father angered. "YOU PIECE OF TRASH!"

His father surrounded Arlaion deeply in the pit, where Arlaion was punished severely.

And retreating into seclusion, Hwillfyrd, his face obscured by a dense thicket of facial hair, found himself incredulous at the sight that greeted him on his social media feed: his former romantic, now adorned with a ring purchased from a humble bathroom optician, to which Hwillfyrd smashed his last pad to atoms repetitively and scrammed the bits to the wall.

Hwillfyrd walked out of his room, needing fresh air.

"Man, your face, looks like a donkey crap on it," Quck spouted. "Oh, oh damn, the donkey, she chose over you?"

HWILLFYRD DID NOT HESITATE TO TACKLE QUCK AND GIVE HIM THE BEATING HE DESERVED until his father disciplined Hwillfyrd with a slap. The residents in the household did not welcome Hwillfyrd out for free air for all the craziness he was having inside that kept him to himself down the basement.

In the basement, he found Lepille, looking at the grand marriage portrait of both Hwillfyrd's father and mother. She gave up seeing the portrait as a solace for resolution AND STARTING SMASHING AND RIPPING THE PORTRAITS WITH THAT UNFATHOMABLE RAGE.

"VOUS GUETE KECHON! DAMN YOU!! DAMN YOU TO HELL!!!!" Lepille yelled. "YOU AND YOUR WRETCHED FAMILY, DAMN YOU ALL FOR TAKING ME FROM MY LIFE!!!!"

"Lepille, stop!" Hwillfyrd pulled. "Stop! STOP!!" he threw lightly. "STOP THIS! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?!"

"With me? WITH ME?! DAY AND NIGHT, I AM IN THIS HOUSEHOLD!! I PUT MY BLOOD AND MY TRUCE FOR THIS FAMILY!! YOU ALL LOCK ME HERE, DAY AND NIGHT WITHOUT EVEN A PINT OF GRATITUDE, DAMN YOU ALL!!!!" Lepille shouted. "I was always with you! I always fed you! I always believed in you and everything you want to stand for! I can never be the same mother as your mother, but I am trying my best self to be your mother, I SWORE ON THAT!" she said. "What does this family take me? A diminishing socialite, struggling to find a man, is that it?!"