"Eugene, do you have the blueprints for the brain surgery?" I asked, putting my awkward hands on my hips.
"Yes sir," Eugene saluted, handing me his papers. Ah, custom made lined paper sheets with his waifus printed in the background. Just what I'd expect of this genius.
I hungrily eyed over the papers. Perfect blueprints for memory removal. The operation would go smoothly. Carl was hiding away in his room, his earbuds in at max volume. I screamed into my megaphone, "ALL SAVIORS GATHER FOR A MEETING!"
My subjects assembled. "Attention! Today we will sneakily kidnap my son Carl and perform memory removal surgery on him to make him think he's still my son! My top commanding agents will be the doctors! I count on all of you to barricade all doors!" I announced, putting my hands on the shoulders of my good friends, Simon and Dwight.
"Ugh, no," Dwight complained, burying his ugly half-burnt face in his scraggly hands.
"Sir, I believe I was in charge of performing the operation," Eugene interrupted aggressively, crossing his large arms. I just kinda chuckled, giving him a pitying pat on the shoulder. He was only so useful.
The mission to kidnap Carl went smoothly. He didn't hear us approach, as his music volume was too loud. We tied a bag over his head and whacked him unconscious with Lucille's twin, yet unbarbed, sister, Drucille. Then, to the operating room. The experienced doctors, Simon and Dwight, or as I like to call him, D, put on their gloves.
"Yay, torture," Simon chuckled, getting the scalpels.
"No! Bad!" I disciplined, whacking him with one of my mother's bras. "Sit." He sat. I would have to keep an eye on his sadistic tendencies.
"Negan, I don't know what to do," Dwight said, a little too brashly.
I patted his hollow back. "Aww, you're so adorable!" I laughed. I leaned in to his ear and whispered, "Do what I say or I kill you."
The operation began. I played one of Carl's personal favorite songs in the background, You Are My Sunshine. If he woke up during the operation, he would be too distracted by the music to notice the pain.
While the slaves performed the deed, I checked my Facebook feed. Eugene had posted a selfie of himself in a very poorly fitting polo shirt, writing "I'm a strong 10 in my new shirt". Abraham had commented: "You look like Chris Farley".
Wait, Abraham?! "I THOUGHT I KILLED YOU!" I hollered at my screen. Dwight flinched, making the incision too deep. Oh well. It was just a skull.
"How's the work, gentlemen?" I asked, smiling coyly.
"Superb," Simon replied, licking the blood off his fingers.
Dr. D neatly placed a chunk of Carl's brain on a metal tray. That was the memory storage. I tossed it into the trash can like a basketball. 360 slam dunk, b*tch. The doctors sewed the skull and forehead back together. What a smooth procedure.
"You're my son again, Carl," I whispered, caressing his hand.
"I would recommend giving him an hour or so to recover," Dwight advised. I scoffed. "I don't know what to do", my a**.
Simon rinsed his teeth with water, spitting it on the floor. "You oaf! Carl might slip!" I yelled, giving him a warning smack in the arm with Lucille. He let out an inhuman noise, scuttling away. I rolled my eyes in disgust.
I went to my room, waiting for my dear son to recover. For now I would work on my series of short stories, called The Walking Stories. They were all TWD fanfics. You see, lately I was into stories based on true stories. I was currently writing a delectable kawaii sugoi yuri fanfiction about Tara x Rosita. I shipped them so hard!!! They were my real life OTP! Omg sugoi like every time I see them I'm like now kiss, bakas!!!
"Allow me to revise your fanfiction," Eugene offered, sitting across from me. I scoffed. I did not have faith in Eugene's shipping abilities. He shipped Michonne x Maggie. No. Everyone knows, Gleggie for life. Even when I killed Glenn, I still shipped him with Maggie. In fact, the reason I killed him was so they could never break up. A very sugoi reason if I do say so myself, baka.
My other friends entered my room, where we all like to hang out. Simon plopped on my bed, falling asleep like the lazy a** he was. Dwight just kinda sat in a corner. I got out my adult coloring book, coloring as I typed my fanfiction. It's called multitasking, b*tch.
"Any updates on Maggie chan?" I asked. I had a crush on Maggie chan. She was my sugoi waifu! But, my body pillow of her still hadn't come in the mail. Those Amazon bakas! Wtf were they doing?!
"She and Michonne brushed shoulders the other day. In fact, they even ate tomatoes from the same can," Eugene said, reading data from his large, 700 page thick notebook full of observations on his OTP.
"Ugh. Everyone knows Jesus x Daryl is canon," Dwight scoffed, brushing his mangy blonde hair out of his face.
Eugene and I gasped. A yaoi fan. The big fat mullet fool and I had to join forces to fight this common enemy. "Oh, so that's your OTP?" I demanded.
"Well, I used to ship myself and my wife, but you saw how that turned out," D shrugged.
I slammed my fist on the table, angry. "NO YAOI IN THE SANCTUARY!" I hollered.
"Hai desu. I can affirm that yuri is substantially better than this concoction you call yaoi," Eugene nodded.
"Let's get a final opinion," Dwight suggested, shaking the large lump of failure also known as Simon.
"Simon kun. ユリはより良いと彼は死ぬべきであることをこのばかに伝える," Eugene instructed, reading Japanese fresh outta google translate. The large mass of mustache and evil whined, curling for more sleep.
Then, it happened. The door slid open. Carl stood in the doorway. I dropped my fanfiction. This was the most important thing, ever. I smiled at my little boy. "Hey, son," I whispered, reaching out for him.
Not making eye contact, he mumbled, "Where's my thomas the train set? I'm a viking."
My heart dropped. Boom. Down in my large, hollow chest. What he just said shook me to my core. Normally I would have sulked away, traumatized. But no. Today, all the emotion welled up inside of me. It was too much.
"OH MY GOD HE'S AUTISTIC!" I screamed, making a vase coyly fall off its perch. Dwight let out an ear-piercing womanly scream.
Carl made no facial expressions. He radiated with LDness. I poked his cheek. He fell into epilepsy. "DO SOMETHING!" I ordered.
"Do not fear. I will perform a special ritual passed down through the ages to extract handicaps," Eugene said, using his flabby hands to conduct the spell.
But there was no use. Carl was gone, truly. He would never express emotion again. Now his time would be taken by a passion for trains and vikings. He was no longer the Carl I once knew.
