Elmo walked briskly down the street, greyed by cold and clouds. Sesame Street, to be precise. His mind was troubled at the moment, recalling his dramatic argument with his mother. He shivered, not only from the cold in the air, but the cold his mother had shown. He had been kicked out of the house after coming out as gay to her.
"You disgust me! I didn't raise my son to be a faggot!" she had screeched, "Get out of my house, you goddamn spawn of Satan!"
"B-but mom! You said I could be anything!" Elmo recalled himself, only an hour before, sobbing, pleading to his mother.
"I thought you had the sense to know that 'anything' didn't include a disgusting fucking disgrace to the family name!" she spat, "Get out of this fucking house, before I get a gun and shoot your sinning ass!" Without further ado, Elmo fled the house through choked sobs.
He brought his mind back to the present. There was nothing Elmo could do about her now. He'd have to get a place to stay, a job, and he'd probably have to do it all alone. The last part pierced his heart. He was alone. A forlorn, young, red puppet out in the big, scary world. Elmo felt small once again. Small and insignificant. He was just one small piece of this big, cruel world. If he died, the world wouldn't stop to mourn. Neither would his own mother. The dreary red puppet was so distracted, he didn't notice the strapping orange gentleman until he ran face first into his broad chest.
YOU ARE READING
A Red Puppet's Heart (Donald Trump x Elmo)
RomanceElmo has just been disowned, and is now stuck in the big, scary world. He pines for affection. Little does he know, he'll receive it from a certain orange chief executive.
