Professor Anonymous
After The Tragedy, Before The Massacre
JIMmy CROWley Honor Institute
"HHHHMMMM!"
"Gasp! Papa's being a bad boy!"
"HHHHMMMM!'
"Oh no! Please spare me, great and power Goddess, Lux. The final chocolate chip cookie, it just called to me. 'Eat me!' It said. Oh, how should this.... lowly human make up for the delicious treasure?"
"HHHHMMMM!"
"Hmm. I don't know. It is a very bad thing you did, Lab Coat Gangster. Commanding knight Sora, what should his punishment be?"
"HHHHMMMM!"
"Oooooooh!! Rainbow Weekend!"
"We've decided on a Rainbow Weekend. Effective immediately."
"HHHHMMMM!"
"I love you, daddy."
"I love You, Papa."
"I love you so much, Darling."
"I know, sweet babies. I love all of you even more."
The logically esteemed professor responded to his two year old son, Sora, his nine year old daughter, Lux, and his wife of ten years, Sorera.
"I'm sorry you all have to see papa this way, contrary to the fact that I'm doing it anyway." The professor attempted to apologize to his family, using a silk navy blue handkerchief that was folded in his brown blazer pocket to wipe the white substance from his red nose.
"Daddy, what's that stuff? Is it sugar?"
"Oh, uuuummmm. Yes it is, My Earth. But it's um, "Adult Sugar."
Sora used to be the curious bundle of sonic energy, inquiring over and over about topics from the most simple to the near genius. He was as red skinned as his father, which guaranteed his overwhelming adorableness to last longer than adolescence. Sora's expressive attachment to his father made it hard for tasks, from teaching to everyday, to be completed since the sonic youth also occupied his thoughts. Even now, the ant infested hollowed out eye sockets of the sonic youth was peering deeply at the "Adult Sugar" cut into neat lines on the granite sink. The slur "APE BABY" crudely carved into his forehead perspirating black blood covered Sora's now pale face like a mask, but never dripped a single drop of the dark plasma.
"I know what you're doing, Papa. I've seen bad people do it on t.v. and get in alot of trouble, also how they die by it. But you aren't a bad man, Papa, so why are you doing it? Are you weak? You know I don't like weak people."
"HM HM Hm. My Saturn, I am so far beyond the definition of weak, I can't even say I'm living anymore. Your Papa is just..... existing."
Lux was the sponge and the universe was her waters, not taking long at all for the nine year old to evolve it to rain. Since her b'earth, she used to show the predigree for intellect that far surpassed her age and most of the older variety of human. Teaching herself to read (English, Latin and Japanese), write with both hands, count up to quintuple digits, paint with the hyper realism of an experienced artist and even play all string and a few horned instruments that could rival full orchestras by the age of six, Lux was already in her sophomore year of middle school at age nine. The electric intellectual could have attended a much higher grade to challenge her genius, and with her mother's will would continue to make her stick out. She made the moral choice, however, to stay within the boundaries of her age, but obviously the most mature. Professor Anonymous could see his electric offspring standing behind him in a disapproving stance, her badly scratched arms crossed over the savagely etched one on her small chest. The electric intellectual wasn't wearing the matching blouse to the long blood soaked frill skirt she had on, even though it was Lux's favorite. There were pages from historical literature, from Mein Kampf to the bible, stapled on to the shape of Lux's face. The iconic papers covering her eyes were ripped into the gouged out socket. Despite this, the Lab Coat Gangster, as the children called him whenever he did something bad, could instinctually picture his Saturn's expression with the hyper realism of her paintings.
"It's going to be okay, My Sun. I know what a bad day and tragic phase feel like. My foster father's never-ending games of "Hide The Geisha Sword" and "Naked Leap Frog" made had me believing I was tragedy itself for those three years. Each and every disturbing day, I'd sit in my room for hours just staring at a revolver I swiped from my perverted caretaker. Hm, it wasn't like I could leave anyway, seeing as how Foster Father Feely took of the door knob and replaced it with a bolt lock facing outside.
If it wasn't for you, My Sun. It was because of you why that hole puncher was never fired for freedom at the reflection of your wife. Then what'd you do? My beloved husband broke down the dungeon door like an anime protagonist, not wasting any time to even bother finding the key. When I saw blood on your shirt, my mind almost shrunk from the shock. But, when I laid eyes on your beautiful face, that one expression it bore converted chronological agony to an uncontrollable aphrodisiac. You. Were. My. Savior, darling. You were my fate and my manifested God. The breath I was allowed to inhale belongs entirely to you, and so does the life humbly bestow on me. Tragedy doesn't exist when we're together. We will ALWAYS be right here with you. Even now."
"..." The distraught genius couldn't respond to his wife's decree with anything but the muffled grunts of an overflowing sadness erupting.
Sorera was Professor Anonymous's undeniable back bone, probably moreso than the God she proclaim me to be. Sorera was Professor Anonymous's Venus. Despite the horrors of her preteen years, the way Sorera turned her life around is much more memorable highlight quite literally meant for the stars. While trapped under tragedy, the willful soul would read mand and descriptive fiction about or involving space and its many possibilities. She avoided non-fiction for the simple fact she wanted to learn it all on her own. This was one of the few things back then that would withdraw Sorera's mind enough into imagination to keep her interested. When the options were made available, the Lab Coat Gangster's Venus did not waste one moment of the opportunity. With the powerful embrace of the nightmares she endured, Sorera took that embodiment of determination and used it to become an astrophysicist and astronaut. She had two tours in the cosmos recorded on her resumé, averaging atleast a month's departure to the melanin sea. It was when the willful soul returned home, however, to her electric offspring and Her Sun was the time Sorera was in her highest esteem. Her brand of love was tough, but just as tender without trying. It was a huge bonus that Sorera was indisputably the coolest and most divine person Professor Anonymous ever met, well, too cool for him he always thought. The way she leaned her whipped shirtless back on her husband's own, softly pelting her scalped head on his shoulder blade. The willful soul's lips were sewn shut, so all of her sentiment was delivered directly to The Lab Coat Gangster's conscious and emotions telepathically. Sorera was pretty free in the comfort of her home, so the bloody content below her waist being exposed was not uncommon. Her gouged out eyes were locked on the ceiling as she would frequently do when deep in thought.
The tip of the ropes knotted around the necks of the genius's family constricted his own in a single connected looping vice. His eyes were clenched shut as they rained, showering the sandy jade. The professor slammed both hands onto the adult sugar with opened palms, most of which glued to the inside of his hand.
By the time Professor Anonymous opened his eyes, the genius's entire family vanished again. The absence spurred the muffled cries of weakness to an all expressing howling of depletion to emptiness.
As he fell to his knees, the side effects of a hollowing existence influenced the professor legs first. For a while, he just sat there, letting his eyes rain on his dark blue denim jeans and making his howls thunder for his pitch black sorrow.
When the storm subsided enough, Professor Anonymous deeply inhaled his sniffles while using his blazer sleeve to clean his extra runny nose. He opened the right side cabinet beneath the sink that he was kneeling in front of, pulling out a black leather duffle bag. The genius rotated and sat with his back onto the granite, unzipping the duffle bag and reaching inside.
The rain was still prominent in Professor Anonymous's puffy red eyes, but empty was his emotions as he stared at the four stalls in from of him. Slowly passing his sights over each one, the tied ankle in all of them were perfectly immobile but shaking with fear.
Professor Anonymous removed his hand from the bag, a palm print of adult sugar forming around the nine millimeter pistol grip withdrawn as well. He raised the hole puncher in his left hand, aiming it at the stall directly in front of his blurry vision. As the genuis lifted his thumb to the hammer of the gun, that looping vice reappeared around The Lab Coat Gangster's throat. Except, there wasn't the same reaction from him, the emptiness too overwhelming to fight against at this point.
The professor's arm gave way, the hole puncher falling into his lap.
The genius's Earth, Sora, sat to his father's right. The sonic youth locked around the professor's arm while resting on his father's shoulder, the noose connecting the two together at the throat.
Professor Anonymous finally drew back the hammer of the pistol.
The genius's Saturn, Lux, stretched out on her father's left. The electric intellectual rested her head on the professor's leg, the noose connecting the two at the throat.
Professor Anonymous raised the hole puncher again, this time finding a home for the business end of the barrel against his temple.
The genius's Venus, Sorera, cuddled into her husband's lap. The star studded warrior placed her head on Her Sun's chest directly above his heart, the noose connecting the two together at the throat.
In all oddities of the logic he has taught throughout, The Lab Coat Gangster felt an almost impossible energy of peace.
"Tragedy doesn't exist when we're together. We will ALWAYS be right here with you. Even now."
Professor Anonymous pulled the trigger back, the hammer clapping against the ignition bolt.
!CLANK!
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The gun jammed.
Part One
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