Dollhouse (COMPLETED)(South Park)

Chapter 3| Laura

"Uhh.." Thomas groans, tugging on the quilt. I glare at him, and tug back. "Move over Laura."

"Me? You're the one taking up all of the bed with your fat ass." I grumble, tugging again on the quilt. Thomas tugs again, and I tug too.

Then, the unthinkable happens. The quilt rips, down the middle. I sit up in bed, rubbing my eyes.

"Good fucking job." Thomas says, sitting up himself and ripping the guilt from my lap. He stumbles to the light switch, and flips it on. The light burns my eyes, and I close them.

"You've ruined the fucking quilt! My mother gave it to us!" He shouts at me, I open my eyes.

"No, she gave it to Craig." I tell him, "you just took it because you don't like Craig."

"No, I took it because she gave everything to Craig." Thomas says, his face slowly turning red in anger. "Her house, her money, her fucking car. Craig got it all."

"And?" I say, glancing over at the alarm clock. It's 6:30 in the morning. "Craig deserves it." I get up out of bed, and stretch.

Thomas laughs. "The only think that fag deserves, is a one way ticket to Camp New Grace."

"Don't you even think of sending him there." I snap, glaring at my lame excuse of a husband.

"Why not?" Thomas asks, placing the quilt back onto the bed. "He can pray the gay away, isn't that what you want?"

"No, not anymore." Thomas groans, and walks towards me. I take a step back, rolling my eyes.

"What happened? You were fine with sending him there when we first caught him with that Tweak boy." He says the name Tweak with such hatred and disgust, that I almost reach out and slap him. I compose myself, knowing that attacking my husband won't help me.

"Tweek is such a nice boy." I say, leaning down to fix the pillows on the bed, "he's not a temptation for Craig. He wasn't sent by Satan to test our family."

"He isn't a nice boy! He's putrid." Thomas walks towards the wardrobe, taking out his clothes for work.

"He's not putrid, you are." I mumble. Thomas doesn't seem to hear. He takes out his shirt, and growls.

"Do you not know how to wash clothes?!" He asks me, shoving the stained shirt under my nose.

"The lipstick stain won't come out." I hiss, crossing my arms over my chest.

"What woman doesn't know how to remove stains from a shirt?" He asks, clutching the shirt. "I knew I should've married that cheerleader."

"And I knew I should've married Richard Tweak." I bite back, his comment not offending me at all. He looks taken aback by my statement, and laughs.

"Yes, you should've. Then Craig and Ruby wouldn't have existed." He says, sounding happy.

"He knows how to make someone happy, he's good looking too." I say, ignoring the comment about my children.

"Good looking? Don't make me laugh!" Thomas snickers, grabbing a clean shirt and walking into the bathroom. He slams the door, and my only bottle of perfume falls from my dresser. It collided with the floor and smashes, slowly staining the white carpet grey.

"Clean that up!" He barks, and I roll my eyes. As Thomas has already taken the bathroom in our room, I grab some clean clothes and stalk out into the hallway.

I head towards the second bathroom, passing Craig and Ruby's doors as I do. Light floods out from the gap under Craig's door, and I knock on it. No answer.