Being the writer I am, I was working on my newest novel, A Biography of Lucille. It would be a hit. Right now I was at the part when I proposed to her at my favorite restaurant, Spaghetti in Paradise. Sure, I got weird looks for marrying a baseball bat, but it was worth every second.
But then, it happened. The usual silence from my lovely house was broken by an ear-shattering scream. It was from Carl's room! I stopped typing immediately, charging up the stairs. "CARL!" I yelled.
I burst open the door. I could not comprehend the scene. Eugene cowering in the corner, hugging himself. He was trying to get as far away from Carl as possible. But all it took was a side glance at Carl to understand.
The first thing I noticed was the black lipstick. It opened on his face like a large abyss. Then, the white face paint. Ghoulish black circles around his eyes. Bright green emo fake contacts. I clutched my chest. A heart attack was imminent.
"I-I was just delivering the master's nightly snack, and he showed me this!" Eugene sobbed.
"WHAT'S. THE. PROBLEM?!" Simon yelled, gripping a fire extinguisher. I politely elbowed him in the face.
"Carl, baby. What have you done?" I demanded, kneeling beside him.
Carl looked at me with aloof, contacted eyes. "This is the only way to get your attention now. Nothing before mattered to you. I didn't matter to you," he whispered in a choked voice.
I wiped a tear from my eye. "No, son. You're my world. My everything. Just...lay off the makeup, ok?" I smiled sweetly, resting my cold, lifeless hands on his shoulders.
"I think it's kinda cool," Dwight shrugged from the doorway.
That did it. My Arien temper exploded. "HEY A**HOLE. AREN'T YOU SUPPOSED TO BE TWO TIMING ME?! GTFO!" I hollered.
"N-Negan sama!" Eugene exclaimed, covering his ears. I forgot. The poor weeaboo gamer had sensitive hearing. I bowed for forgiveness. Japanese manners were the only thing that could make him understand.
Carl touched his white painted face, the cheap, hot topic made in china illegally solicited face paint smearing on his finger. I dowsed a washcloth with warm water, gently scraping it over Carl's face. He did not resist. The makeup soon came off.
"Son, do not disappoint me again," I warned, callously walking out of the room.
