Hunger #Wattys2017

RudeBrat

A semi-tall chalk white skinned boy stood over a grave holding a shovel.

His hair was down to his shoulders, one half red, the other a fading pink. He wore a purple t-shirt with black and white striped sleeves, and skin tight black pants.

His bare feet were planted in the grassy dirt as he looked up at the tombstone reading: Here lies my pet.

Dark gray clouds passed over him. Rain began to pour down in torrential amounts. The boy didn't care, he just turned and mind-numbingly walked towards his mansion...slowly...letting the water soak him and his clothes.

Eventually making it inside, he threw the shovel off to the side and ran to his room scream-crying.

The boy's parents were busy doing other things. His father was laid back watching football, his mother was in the kitchen, cleaning dishes. Both have had enough of the boy's crappy attitude.

His mother slammed down a dish and walked over to her husband.

"Jeffery, I'm sick of this. That boy needs to get a grip!" she hissed to him.

"Rita I know. And we will confront him, it's just..." Jeffery hesitantly started.

"It's just what? You're scared of the rude brat?" Rita hissed while angrily flopping a dish towel around in the air. "He's a teenage boy, he needs to know his place!"

"Sweetie, he's rich. He could sell us if he wanted to." Jeffery said.

"Well so are we! And we can cut him off when he's eighteen! We're the figures of authority!" Rita continued in an angry whisper.

"Can't we get one of the servants or maids to confront him for us?" Jeffery sighed in aggravation.

"Gladys, Jayquelle, Nigel, and Bertrum! Front and center!" Rita commanded.

The two servants and two maids ran to and stood in front of the couple.

"You four have been working hard, relax and enjoy yourselves. You all deserve it."

"Yes Madam Watson." the four said, bowing before going their separate ways.

"We aren't now." Rita said while pulling her husband by the ear. "Come on Jeffery."

-

In his room, the boy was crying into his pillow, clutching the fluff of it as he wailed into it.

"Why does this ALWAYS happen to me?" he choked when he lifted his head from it. "My pets are always dying!"

"Henry Watson! We need to talk!" his mother boomed while still dragging his father by the ear.

"Oh...it's you two. What do you want mother? Father?" the boy huffed and turned away from them.

"We're here to talk to you about your 'pets' and your attitude." his mother raged on. "This habit you have of adopting these sort of creatures and then torturing them for your own amusement...that kind of crap is sick!"

"You people never give me what I want!" Henry exclaimed while in tears when he turned around.

"We've been giving you what you want since you were in diapers!" his father shouted angrily after Rita let go of his ear. "You're fifteen years old now! You've had enough to know that you're NOT going to get everything you want in life!"

"Get out of my room." Henry demanded.

"No, not today." his mother said in a condescending tone. "Until you learn responsibility, you're not having a pet of any kind, plus you're grounded."