i like dubstep

[enrages]

Who: Karson and Jack Valenti
What: Life's hard when you're a disgruntled teen who has recently discovered a secret numbers network, and your father isn't going to put up with that shit. Especially when you've been dragging the car into all your misadventures.
Where: the Valenti household.
When: June 15th, late late late at night.



Today, Karson had probably participated in the most important thing of his miserable, short life. Today, he became a supporting character and quite possibly a man. No, that's a lie; he cried too much to be considered a man. He was only a pseudo-man. The type of man who makes a Harlem Shake video with his whole office about two months after the fad had died before going home to drink away his woes with a bottle of 3$ wine. He doesn't even bother taking the wine out of the brown paper bag it came in. That's how despair inducing his performance was.

So he does the only thing a pseudo-man can do: he tries to sneak back into his house at half past dumb o'clock in the morning, after trying to help as many people with the mine situation as he could. Since I'm not psychic and I don't actually give a shit about timeline accuracy, I have no idea what happens with the whole mine thing, and that's okay. Honestly, all I want to do with my life is tag with Lavvy, and that's what I'm going to do.

Comments

[idiotwagon]

It's late. By now, one would easily expect Jack to be asleep or passed out in a bar somewhere, enjoying what little day off he has to himself. Would he be mad about the Karson skipping out in the middle of school? Probably. Would he be mad about Karson taking the car without his permission? Definitely. But was Jack Valenti enough of a spiting, vengeful father to wait until the wee hours of the morning to yell at his son?

It seems like the coast is clear. The kitchen, situated conveniently between the front door and Karson's room, is pitch black. The entire house is enveloped in silence, the only sound being Karson's own cautious footsteps.

About halfway through the kitchen, a light clicks on.

Jack Valenti is sitting in a chair, still in his work clothes, glaring with enough raw fury to wipe several major cities off the map. If it were possible to harness raw fury as an energy source Jack would be a weapon of mass destruction, is what I'm saying. A single glance would be enough to melt Karson's flesh clean off his bones and irradiate the very ground he stood on for all time.

So yes, Jack was enough of a spiting, vengeful father to wait until the wee hours of the morning to yell at his son.

"Karson Kathleen Valenti," he hisses, not budging from his spot, "do you know what time it is?"

[enrages]

It's the hissing. Not the ambush, not the sudden light or the work clothes or anything else, really. It's the hissing that has Karson subconsciously backing away from the fatherly nuclear power plant of fury. The fact that his father isn't shouting is terrifying.

"Uh."

What can he do to mitigate this ire? Would pouring vast sums of water on the overheating reactor help? Did it help for Chernobyl? No. What about something that would appease his father? Perhaps breaking out into an Italian aria about the glorious of potato knishes? What the hell even is a knish? No, it wouldn't work. Nothing would save Karson now.

"I-- Uh, I was just taking Crab out to pee. He's--" Oh goddamnit, where was that furry loaf of a dog? He's usually under Karson's feet, tripping him up and begging for food, but the one time he's needed... What an asshole dog.

"....Happy father's day?"

[idiotwagon]

"Three in the morning."

Jack doesn't even acknowledge Karson's sad attempt at an excuse. His attempt at preventing his imminent doom is, unfortunately, hopeless. "Three in the fucking morning, Karson. When I heard you skipped class I was just gonna scold you, but no, oh no, you couldn't stop there. You had to come down and steal my car, too. I had to fucking walk home, you conceited little shit. An hour of walking."

He pauses only to grab a single, sad looking licorice Scottie from his pocket, still glaring down his son as he tears its tiny little candy head off.

"And that is all you have to fucking say for yourself?"

[enrages]

"No-- I've got a fuckin' lot to say for myself. I always have a lot to say for myself, and I'm going to say it all, and I promise, I fuckin' promise, I had good reasons for all of that, and honestly, the skipping school thing and the stealing the car thing were linked, so they only count as one thing--" Oh god, Karson Valenti has never been more terrified in his life, but he has replaced his hands with shovels, and he is a one-man, one-grave digging machine.

"Why didn't you take a taxi?"

[idiotwagon]

"Don't distract from my fucking point." He raises his voice just enough to get that across, barely teetering on the edge of exploding into a destructive rage. He is still seated firmly in his chair, but it's easy to tell from how tense he is that he's ready to spring up and knock the kid's goddamn lights out at any goddamn moment. This is not the time to test the rage of Jack fucking Valenti.

He settles down, slightly, barely. The glaring hasn't stopped. Neither has the casual Scottie devouring, and he is definitely eating the heads first on purpose. You are free to imagine it is Karson's head if he doesn't answer the next few questions correctly.

"First you get chapstick all over my windows, and I don't even want to know how that happened. And now you skip school, come home late, and leave your own father stranded at his shitty office building. And it's now Father's Day, thanks for fucking reminding me.

"I'm giving you one chance, kid. One chance, and that's it. Explain. And make it good."

He leans back in his chair, steepling his hands together.

Well, son?

[enrages]

There are about three seconds where Karson contemplates telling the truth. Well, dad, you see, there's this number that's always been floating around in my head, and I found out that if I write it with chapstick on your car window, people can read my messages. These same people got into some big trouble, and I needed your car to save them.

He's just about to open his mouth, with the "Well" forming on his lips, before it hits him. He sounds fucking insane, and there's no way his dad would buy that load of shit. Not in a million goddamn years. So he does the next best thing to telling the truth: Karson makes a break for it-- headed straight for the window. He can live on the streets, he can raid the garbage for food, anything to keep him from having to deal with his dad right now.

[idiotwagon]

There was one critical flaw in this plan, and that flaw was expecting Jack to not be prepared. If he manages to make it to the window, he'll find that it's already locked up tight—wow, did Jack actually nail them all shut?? Possibly. He nailed at least one down, in addition to locking it. No one is escaping out this window.

Knowing how Karson's shitty excuses usually go, Jack was ready for this. He lunges forward, knocking his chair over as he rises and makes a grab for the back of his son's shitty RON PAUL 2012 shirt. He's then making a grab for an arm, in case the kid gets the wise idea of stripping his way to freedom. NOT UNDER HIS ROOF, MOTHERFUCKER.

"ANSWER THE GODDAMN QUESTION YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SHIT OR I'M CONFISCATING EVERYTHING YOU HOLD DEAR, SO HELP ME GOD."

[enrages]

"There was a time when dads were kind,
When their voices were soft,
And their words encouraging.
There was a time when mercy triumphed,
And the world was a window,
And the window was open.
There was a time...
Then it all went wrong." Karson Valenti, age 16.

[enrages]

No, Karson isn't actually singing his own life adapted version of Les Misérables, despite the fact that he is the most misérables right now. He's fallen into his dad's shitty trap that is actually quite elaborate and just a little bit impressive. If Karson wasn't praying to god (ANSWER ME FOR ONCE, YOU OMNIPOTENT FUCK) for detachable arms so he could elude his father's grasps and terrifying explosive rage, he would have stripped and broken through the window like a bear breaks through the glass-like water to reach a salmon.

There is no escape. There is no freedom. There is only shouting and bits of licorice scottie dog plastered to the side of his face.

"I--I HAD TO HELP SOME PEOPLE, OKAY?! I WAS FUCKING HELPING PEOPLE, SO HOW ABOUT YOU STOP TRYING TO BREAK MY ARM OFF SO YOU CAN BEAT ME TO DEATH WITH IT, BECAUSE I KNOW THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT YOU'RE TRYING TO DO!"

[idiotwagon]

Karson is now getting his arm twisted around his back. You are in a wrestling hold now, bitch, you're not going anywhere.

"HELP SOME PEOPLE WITH WHAT, SKIPPING SCHOOL TO DO DRUGS AND STEAL MY SHIT LIKE THE WORLD'S WORST SON?? WHAT THE HELL WAS SO GODDAMN IMPORTANT YOU HAD TO DROP FUCKING EVERYTHING AND RUIN MY WHOLE GODDAMN DAY?!"

[enrages]

"I DON'T DO DRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGS!!!!" Everyone needed that clarified, thank you.

"Test my pee, dad! Fuckin' test it! Drug free's the way to be!"

[idiotwagon]

"Then what the goddamn fuck were you doing? Stop dodging the fucking question!" gettin real sick of your shit karson

[enrages]

struggle struggle everything is pain struggle why god why

"There were people stuck in a fuckin' mine, and they're INTERNET FRIENDS, and they AREN'T 50 YEAR OLDS IN THEIR MOTHERS' BASEMENTS, and I was fucking SAVING THEM!"

[idiotwagon]

"You call that an excuse? Give me the real story, Karson!"

Yeah, nope.

You didn't save your internet friends from a mine

You didn't save the day.

The hero is not you.

[enrages]

the dog is now yowling

the neighbors now hate you

congrats, dad

"YOU'RE SCARING CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAB!!"

[idiotwagon]

"GODDAMNIT CRAB, YOU STAY OUT OF THIS."

and that would imply the neighbours ever didn't hate them

[enrages]

"DON'T YELL AT THE FUCKING DOG, YOU INCONSIDERATE ASSHOLE. HE DOESN'T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE SAYING."

[idiotwagon]

"CRAB CAN MIND HIS OWN FUCKING BUSINESS, STOP TRYING TO USE THE DOG TO DISTRACT FROM HOW FUCKING GROUNDED YOU ARE GOING TO BE IN ABOUT FIVE SECONDS IF YOU DON'T START COMING UP WITH GOOD EXCUSES RIGHT! NOW!!"

[enrages]

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhh. FINE, you want excuses?! I'VE GOT SOME FUCKING EXCUSES."

[enrages]

"I was having a bad day, I was out on a date with a really cute girl, I was out on a date with a really cute boy, I was out on a date with a really cute dog, I was setting Crab up with a really cute dog, I was watching movies, I was petting a cat, I was reading a book, I was test-driving the car in case of the zombie apocalypse, I wanted to go to the mall, my favorite episode of Oprah was on, I joined the local fight club, I've developed schizophrenia and I've started the local fight club, I'm teen pregnant, I've created a second life for myself where I work in the exact same job as you but for a rival company, I've volunteered myself for nuclear experimentation, I entered the TV world and fought Shadows to prevent murders from occurring, I was playing hop-scotch with the local little girl populous because I'm a notorious pedophile, I'm actually Chris Hanson, I've become a painter on the side and am creating my ultimate creation, I direct movies when I skip school, I AM ON DRUGS, I AM NOT ON DRUGS AND LIKE TO CONVINCE EVERYONE THAT I AM ON DRUGS--"

He is just going to keep going. Stop him, Jack. Stop him.

[idiotwagon]

Jack slaps a merciful hand over the kid's mouth.

"Okay, fine, have it your way."

With that said, he hauls Karson by the arm to his room (dragging, if he has to), shoves him inside, and slams the door shut. The window is already nailed down like the last one, but with about eight hundred more nails than should be necessary. Don't make him go out and board it up from the outside, too.

He then pushes a goddamn bookshelf in front of the door.

"GROUNDED FOR LIFE."

[enrages]

The only way to properly express Karson's woe is through MS Paint, comic sans:

[idiotwagon]

[enrages]

[idiotwagon]

[enrages]

no

[enrages]

you

[enrages]

DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNN'T!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[enrages]

KARSON SPENDS THE NIGHT CRYING LIKE BABS ALONE IN HIS ROOM. HE HAS BEEN SEPARATED FROM HIS INSEPARABLE DOG AND LIFE IS HARD. NOT GOING TO SCHOOL THE NEXT FEW DAYS BECAUSE FUCK YOU DAD.

[idiotwagon]

Jack has earplugs. This is, by far, not the first time he's had to deal with Karson screaming and crying in his room for dumb reasons.

And he is going to school the next few days because Jack is driving him to school personally every single goddamn day and revoking his keys and phone and literally everything he owns and holds dear. YES, YOU ARE EVEN GROUNDED FROM CRAB. LOOK AT HOW YOU'RE FORCING CRAB TO SUFFER WITH YOUR NEGLIGENCE. This is what happens when you cross the wrong dad (which is to say your only dad, since you are not fucking adopted don't even start with me young man).

[enrages]

at some point karson will slip an artist rendition of how adopted he actually is under his door

enjoy, "FATHER"