The Despairing Tribulations of a Doomed Boy

Chapter 1

Seventeen Years Ago

Mrs. Warhol began to cry. The tears dropped off her face and spotted her hospital gown. Her husband paced angerly about the room.

"What do you mean our baby is missing?" Mr. Warhol asked Doctor George of the North-North East Maternity Ward. The three of them stood in Dr. George's office at 3am. Mrs. Warhol was still recovering from giving birth. Mr. Warhol was in the clothes he had been wearing for two days. Dr. George was in a nicely pressed shirt and suit pants, but the bags under his eyes were unprofessional.

"I don't know what more to tell you, sir. We have people investigating the matter. We will find your son, Mr. Warhol." There was a short pause. "You know... if you're involved in this at all--"

"Why would I kidnap my own son?" Mr. Warhol boomed at the doctor in a voice that shook his sobbing wife. "This is—you are—I will have you stripped of your job! I will sue you and your hospital for losing my baby and having the gall to accuse me of having any part in it!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Warhol, I did not mean anything by it. It's just that... there have been cases of parents hiding their babies when it's discovered that they are anomalies. I'm only trying to help your child, Mr. Warhol. If you try to hide him, you will only end up hurting him."

"I didn't kidnap my own son!"

"Okay, okay, like I said, we have people searching. We will find your son, Mr. and Mrs. Warhol."

The office door opened and in walked a tall, young woman with a stern face. Her royal blue colored nose-button indicated that she was law-enforcement. She looked over the parents and then said, "Mr. and Mrs. Warhol? I'm Detective Escher Koi and I will find your son."

"How?" Mr. Warhol demanded to know.

"Let me worry about that, Mr. Warhol. Right now I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"We don't know anything about our missing son!"

"Please, Mr. Warhol. Save it for Rembrandt."

"Who?"

Just then, a short, fluffy man walked into the office. He had a tuft of dark hair and a blue nose-button.

"This is Rembrandt, Mr. Warhol. I need you to go ahead and push his button."

"What does it do?" Asked Mr. Warhol in a lowered voice.

"It ensures that you tell the truth."

"Well fine then! I have no problem with that because I have been telling the truth!" Mr. Warhol walked up to Rembrandt and pushed his blue nose-button. Then he added, "I know nothing about my missing son and I plan on suing this hospital and everyone in it for losing my newborn baby!"

A young nurse appeared in the doorway. She took a step in, saw Mr. Warhol talking to Rembrandt, quickly stepped out and disappeared.

Detective Koi didn't seem to notice. She sighed. "Mr. Warhol, I'm going to need your full story. Let's begin with the birthing."

Tuesday

Otto stood in front of the bathroom mirror. Every morning he had to paint his anomaly white nose-button before leaving the house. Otto painted his green--a light, happy shade of green. The kind of green that let you know that everything would be okay. His foster parents had picked it out for him the day the nurse kidnapped him from the hospital and handed him over for them to raise.

He leaned over the sink to get a close view of his nostrils as he brushed them carefully around the rim. The brush was cold and wet, but it no longer tickled him. He had long since learned to keep his breathing steady and his hand steadier for a smooth, flawless cover. He turned his face this way and that, slipping the glare off the flat, reflective surface of his nose-button to check for any missed spots or unevenness. By the time he finished, no one could tell that green wasn't his natural color.