The Piñata Suprise

Parents

I hear a door slam, downstairs. "Daniel?" A male voice calls out. I try to reply, but can't. I hear footsteps coming up my stairs. A tug on the door handle, and a demand to open the door. I attempt to do so, and succeed. I fall, at my fathers feet. He looks, confused at why there's a piñata in his sons bedroom. I move my legs, and he jumps back. I roll over, and get up. He looks confused. He calls out "Daniel, why is there a moving piñata in your room?" No reply, as I am the piñata. I try to get his attention, and try to write out a message with a pencil on my desk. I can't write, as I have no fingers. I point to a picture of me on the wall, then to myself. My father is confused. He looks at me, then to the picture. "And you turned into a piñata? How are you going to get your schooling done now? This better be a prank." I shake my head. A sense of dread sets in on his face, his arched features become relaxed. He looks at me, the piñata, and picks me up. I'm remarkably light, so it is easy. He looks me in the eye, then turns me around. And around, and around. He is looking me well over, searching for something. Something to show this is fake. He finds none. "Oh god, this is real. Shit, what am I going to do?" This is the first time I've seen him not in control of things. He tries to think of a plan of action. He tries, and tries, but he can't think of one. Not a single one. Once he is done, he just... goes downstairs, and pours himself a drink of a bottle of wine. He drinks it, quickly. He had quit alcohol 2 years ago, and this is what breaks it. His own son turning into a party decoration. Ironic, isn't it? A man known for his parties in his youth goes back to them once his son becomes a party decoration. A piñata. I don't know what I am. He gets on the phone, saying he won't be able to do work tomorrow. And to not entirely expect him the next. He explains that something happened to me. He says that it's too absurd for them to believe him. He sighs, and gets off. I head back to my room. When I get there, I don't sleep. I don't feel the need to sleep. Not at all, actually. No needs, only the need for... something. I don't know what. I'm pretty full on that one, right now. My skin is still hard as stone, and my eyes are still the same as in the pool of water, or an hour before. Nothing has changed. I still have long, triangular ears, and short, stubby legs. I still am unsure of what to do, so I wait. I wait, for around half an hour. My dainty ceiling fan hanging above me, my carpet thick as ever. I feel some of the confetti fur fall off, and replace itself. It feels like it's infinite. I can't talk, nor can I breathe. I don't feel the need to breathe. I'm not breathing. Nor can I feel anything in my chest. I kind of lay down, and just... continue to wait.