Larisher Short Stories/One Shots

Concert & Corpses

Sal examined his bare face -or, what was left of it- in the mirror. He sighed at the gruesome wreck, doing his nightly routine of applying all sorts of creams and whatnot to it. It sucked. It really did.

After he was finished with the deed, he brushed his teeth and pulled his hair out of those pigtails he seemed to always wear, the ones that always got him mistaken for a female. But that didn't really matter at all to him, though. After letting his hair down after it being up all day, he gave it that satisfying scratch all over then brushed it.

Leaving his room and taking his white, cracked, almost porcelain doll-looking prosthetic face with him, he heard a knock on his bedroom door. "I was in the bathroom," Sally said, standing at the doorway.

"Oh," Sal's father, who had the same bright blue hair, and even a matching beard turned from his son's bedroom door, clearing his throat. "I'm going to be gone all day tomorrow, just letting you know."

"Why?"

"... work stuff. Nothing important. Do Don't forget to feed Gizmo and change his litter box in the morning."

The fat, spoiled rotten cat was sound asleep on the couch, in a sitting position that was unsettlingly human.

"Got it." Sally pursed his lips. 'work stuff.' Who knows what that man would do to support himself and his kid, and even that dumb cat. He was always leaving on random days all day. Sal wouldn't be too shocked if his dad was working as a con artist or begging on the streets.

Ever since Mom died, things have been so different.

Shaking away the thought, he settled in bed and got himself in a comfortable position. School tomorrow shouldn't be too bad. It's a friday and he'll be going to hang out with Larry afterwards. Sal doesn't remember exactly what Larry said they'd be doing. Getting fast food and something else. A movie or something? Some kind of festival? All he remembers was Larry handing him a ticket and saying it was gonna be "rad."

It didn't matter right now though. Sally was fast asleep. Unaware that Gizmo, the fat cat mentioned before had snuck into bed with him and passed out at the foot of it.

beep beep beep beep beep beep be-

"fuck off" Sal grumbled as he smacked the button on his alarm clock. "I hate waking up early..." he mumbled to himself for the second time that morning.

It didn't take him too long to get ready. Put hair up, grab waffles, brush teeth, throw on clothes, put on prosthetic. A few simple tasks and he was ready to start his day.

He walked outside of Addison Apartments, coming to a stop at the bus stop where he usually met up with Larry, Todd and Chug. Todd and Larry were currently debating on something. Chug just watched and listened, munching on his cinnamon roll.

Sal approached the three, tuning in on the conversation;

"It's not music. It's grown men playing a guitar the completely wrong way and screaming at a microphone; they don't know what they're doing." Todd crossed his arms.

Larry rolled his eyes. "Dude, music is music. Just 'cause the guitar's distorted and the drums are really fast and they scream doesn't mean shit."

"It's just noise... there's absolutely no rhythm or anything."

"Whatever, dorkzilla..." Larry scoffed.

Todd perked up, pushing his glasses up and trying to think of a way to respond to the rude nickname. Sal cleared his throat, drawing everyone else's attention toward him. Larry grinned. "Hey Sally-Face, ready for tonight?"