- Posting Speed
- Speed of Light
- Writing Levels
- Douche
- Preferred Character Gender
- No Preferences
"Dad..."
A spray-tanned hand gripped Stoneroller's shoulder, steadying him at the bottom of the boat. "It's okay, Son. You're doing a tremendous job. Everyone says so."
Stoneroller opened his eyes, fixing on the face above him: the kindly smiling face lit by the lamp he carried. "Dad... you went away."
The lantern-bearer leaned closer, ducking under the American Flag as it billowed, caught by a stray breeze wafting across the swamp. "It's all part of the plan, Carly. I'll be with you real soon. And on that day, the walls'll come tumbling down. I promise you, Boy."
Stoneroller gripped the hand, smiling up from where he lay. He could only focus on that face - round and fat and glowing with carotene. The glow of a fall evening, with the family all tucked in. The glow of golden hotel rooms, that rare treat. The red of fast food diners, mixed with a little white. A little oppressed whiteness, struggling.... fighting...
"They're laughing at me."
"So mean," agreed his father, gripping Carl tighter. The little boat rocked and nudged its way through the ruined, sunken world. The shadow-brothers and shadow-sisters steered it soundly with their flagpoles, guiding it to the promised shore. "But what about them? What about Sleepy Rhapsody, and Lyin' Breathtaker, and Dopey Phantom, and the Reporter Woman?"
Stoneroller blinked. The boat was starting to rock violently, and the hand on his shoulder gripped tighter. "Dad....?"
The lantern-bearer leaned over him, puckering his lips, whispering in his ear like a Q-tip. "They weren't born here."
Stoneroller bolted upright in the back of the truck, flailing at the people who had dragged him back there.
"FUCKOFASHITYOUCOMMIES!"