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Huroro P.O.V. Adaptation, Corporal Chapter 18, Section 1/1
By the time Huroro got back from getting his cigarettes, it was twenty to ten. He pulled out his keys and unlocked the front door.
Kululu still wasn't back from wherever he had gone, but Huroro had expected that. He assumed that it would still be hours before his son returned.
So, he went about his day as he normally would, with his irritation at Kululu boiling in the back of his head. Despite the fact that he had bought more, Huroro still wanted the pack of cigarettes that Kululu had stolen and he had plans to cuss him out until it was returned.
The hours ticked by, and still Kululu wasn't back. Three o'clock, four o'clock, five o'clock… Where the hell was he?
Eight, nine, ten, eleven o'clock… At this point Huroro started to wonder if perhaps Kululu wasn't coming back. Fine with me, he thought, but now I won't get my cigarettes.
But Huroro still didn't go to bed. Why? Was he actually hoping that Kululu would come back so he could yell at him? Maybe.
Even if that was the case, however, he wouldn't stay up forever. Once the cost of staying up late started outweighing the benefit of properly punishing his son, he would go to bed. That's what Huroro had decided to do, anyway, but he secretly still wasn't sold on the idea. One a.m., two a.m., god, he isn't coming back, is he…?
Kululu opened the door and slumped into the house when the clock read 2:53 a.m.
Huroro leapt up and immediately said, "It's almost three a.m., motherfucker. Where have you been?"
"Sorry, I forgot about my curfew. Nice of you to wait up for me, though." Kululu replied with his regular snarkiness, but Huroro noticed that he didn't seem as (happy?) comfortable as he normally did. Had something happened? Ah, he didn't care.
"I had to, I can't lock up the house and go to bed until you get back," Huroro replied, making up the excuse on the spot.
"Uh-huh."
"I'm not going to do this again, Kululu," Huroro said. "Tomorrow night I'm locking the door at eight and if you aren't here then you can just stay outside."
"Whatever."
Huroro rolled his eyes. Why did his son have such a bad fucking attitude?
Kululu started to undress and Huroro stayed silent, trying to figure out how to (start a fight) get his cigarettes back.
Suddenly, Kululu looked around at him and gave a little grin. "Like what you see, old man?"
Ugh. "Of course not," Huroro replied cruelly. "You're a skinny, pale little bitch and no one, much less me, would ever find you attractive."
"That's nice," Kululu replied. "Why are you watching me undress, then?"
Huroro pursed his lips. "I left a pack of cigarettes and a lighter on my table this morning. When I got out of the shower, they were gone."
"What a shame."
"Did you take them?"
"Yeah."
"Give them back, Kululu," Huroro ordered.
"I can't, sorry."
"Why?"
Kululu shrugged and said, "I smoked them."
Huroro took a step towards him and spat, "You did not, you little lying bitch! I can see that you don't smoke, there's no way you'd be able to stomach a full pack at once!"
"Nice going there, Papa," Kululu conceded, pulling Huroro's pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, "you saw right through the hole in my excuse." He tossed the package into the glass of booze that was sitting on the occasional table.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Huroro exclaimed incredulously.
"I just wanted to return your things, Huroro. I made a mistake in taking them this morning, so I should try to make up for it," Kululu said sweetly. Huroro felt another twinge of disgust when his son pulled him forward by the shirt collar and kissed him. Huroro sharply smacked him on the cheek, and Kululu snickered.
Huroro picked up the glass and fished his cigarettes and the lighter out. The cigarettes were ruined, obviously. He threw them aside. The lighter was fine, though. He got one of the cigarettes he had bought earlier and lit it.
"Aww, why did I have to give you the pack I took? You had others…"
Huroro dragged on his cigarette and exhaled, making sure the smoke blew right into his son's face. Then he said, "You're a fucking retard."
An awful look of hate and rage crossed Kululu's face as he instantly reacted to the word. He pulled his fist back and punched Huroro in the face.
Huroro was a caught a little off-guard, but he retaliated and uppercut his son. He heard Kululu's teeth clack together alarmingly. "Get out of my fucking house!"
"I'm not a retard!" Kululu screamed.
Huroro threw his glass at Kululu like a pitcher throwing a baseball. "Yes, you are!" he yelled back.
"I AM NOT A RETARD!" Kululu shrieked again, his voice rising even louder.
"GO FUCK YOURSELF!" Huroro flung Kululu's bag at him.
"Screw you, you drunk bastard!" Kululu put both his middle fingers up and rushed out the front door. All in all, Huroro saw, Kululu was there for less than ten minutes before he had been driven away again. Good. Huroro slammed the door shut.
Ah, family bonding time.
