“Goodnight, Kitten”, he says as he takes off his fedora.
It’s 10:30 on a Saturday night. The lights are low. He closes discord. He googles Google. “Mmmmph“
His palms begin to clam. He pulls down his hello kitty sweatpants, unbuttons his vest and drops his pants to his ankles. He lets out a grunt “hmph”.
Downstairs, his lovely mother is baking him brownies. The same triple decker double chocolate fudge chocolate fudge decker dumper that she’s been baking since her son was young.
The brownies are ready.
He starts a timer of his own. His shirt flies off. He has it down to a science. Shoes off. 48 seconds is a generous amount of time for him.
His mother keeps one brownie and takes the rest upstairs “mhmmm I love my brownie”.
He struggles to find the perfect video. One hand frantically spams next page, the other strokes his dragon. He grunts “humph”.
20 seconds pass. She’s on level 2. He, on the other hand, in on level 46 of his search terms. He is destroying his meat, furiously bashing himself in a fit of rage.
Ten seconds remain. Sweat beams down his face. He undoes his bowtie. There is no going back now. He locks in on a video.
Five seconds left. He grabs a tissue, releases, and lets out a maniacal yell, “AHAHHAHHAHAHAHH”.
The door slams open.
He had miscalculated. His timer was still on daylight savings time.
The lights blind him and reveal the Cheetos dust lining the inside of his thighs, forearms, and neck. He is enough of a mess to distract her from his screen. His browser of morbid darkness. Darker than the triple double decker dribble chocolate fudge diddy dumpers. Obsidian Incarnate. His premium username…. But now… It’s time to retire.
He smashes his screen. Punches straight through it.
He grabs his bloody hand an erupts “AHHH”.
His mother gasps “Hoh.” The plate drops. The brownies fall to the floor in slow-motion. She is frozen.
Her initial instinct is to save him, but she can’t even save herself. A broken home and a troubled past. Now she’s running from the law. Is this how she must atone?
“I never felt loved mom.
“This is not love either. Love can come from all aspects in life. And I would rather die trying to find it than live believing it doesn’t exist.”
“I’m… I’m such a disappointment.”
“Charlie…. You’re my disappointment.”
He feels such remorse. He’s been babied, but she’s never seen him in such defeat. He stands up, a mighty six feet 345 pounds, and barrels towards her crying and sweating. He hugs her.
They stand in silence.