POV you get adopted by Bo Burnham

Trouble in Paradise

The waiter sets your bredstics on the table gently, along with your water.

You are excited to see what all the hype is about as you reach for a breadstick to eat, but to your surprise and disappointment, it really isn't that good. You are confused. I know, y/n. I know.

Still, it beats dog food.

Not wanting to be rude, you don't tell bo, becasue he seems to be enjoying his. Instead you take a drink of water, to wash the chalky taste out of your mouth. Soon the waiter arrives again with your spaghetti, and you dig in.

It is wonderful. Real food. Not only does it taste good, from the sause, to the seasoning, to the noodles, it doesn't even have a weird smell like dog food. Absolutely delectable.

The waiter comes right back with a strange twisty device.

"Cheese?" He asks.

"Sure." You reply.

He begins to twist, and little white flakes of cheese are sprinkled onto the top of your pasta. Yummy.

"Say when." The waiter prompts.

Once you have a small mound, you say "When?"

He smiles, and moves on to Bo. Bo simply nods, as his pile of cheese grows bigger and bigger. The poor waiter, for fear of upsetting him, just keeps going, until the pile covers his whole plate. Finally, Bo says

"When."

The waiter lets out a breath as though he'd been holding it that whole time. Bo smiles.

"Thank you." He says. "I was just testing you. Good to see you know better than to question your customer."

The waiter just chuckles lightly.

Bo speaks again. "Now I would like a strawberry smoothie to accompany my meal, please."

The waiter is taken aback.

"But sir," He sighs, exasperated. "We don't have smoothies."

Bos eyebrows raise in frustration. "Now what did we just talk about," His eyes flick down to the man's chest to read his nametag. "..Gilbert?"

'Gilbert' whimpers. "Don't- eh, Don't question the customer?"

"Very good." Bo smiles, folding his hands in front of him. "Now I want my smoothie here before I am finished with my food"

The waiter lets out an exhausted cry, and rushes away to figure out how to make Bo his smoothie.

You look down, and continue to eat in silence. Bo is upset with this.

"What's wrong, my sweet?" He asks.

You sigh. "You did it again."

"Did what?" He asks.

"The waiter said they didn't have smoothies. Is it so important for you to have one that you feel the need to threaten and intimidate him?" You say, uspet.

Bo shakes his head. "It is very important. I really want a smoothie. So what if I need to use a bit of force to get it?"

"You don't understand, Bo. Gilbert is just trying to do his job. Now he is going to be erased from existence if he can't figure out how to get you a smoothie? That's evil!"

"No, no" Bo explains. "Its not evil. I'm helping Gilbert be his best self."

He smiles, proud of himself.

"And what happens if he fails to meet your expectation?" You ask.

"I imagine he'll become very good friends with that man from earlier." Bo shrugs.

You scoff. How does Bo see no problem with what he is doing?

"Listen, y/n." Bo says, suddenly taking a parental tone with you. "Now that I am your father, it is my job to protect you, as well as provide you with the best life possible. If you wanted a smoothie, I would make sure Gilbert got you one too, because it would make your life better! I am doing this for you."

You shake your head defeated.

"Now I am your dad, so you can't argue with me." Bo orders. "Don't make me have to lecture you again."

Saving you from this terrible conversation, Gilbert comes back, smoothie in hand, as well as all over the front of his apron. He looks incredibly distressed, and upset. You pity him.

He sets the glass on the table before you, and Bo takes a sip.

Bo parts his lips, and smiles. "Very good. Thank you Gilbert. We would like the check now."

As Gilbert sets off again to grab the check, you don't bother in engaging in conversation with Bo. Instead, you stare out the window solemnly until Gilbert returns. Then, Bo picks up a pen, signs a piece of paper, as well as setting some money on the table. He then stands and begins to leave. You follow him, staring disdainfully at the smoothie left discarded on the table.