/Author's Note: After last chapter's somewhat... supernatural nature, this one returns to the mundane - but I hope you still find it amusing! Thanks again for the kind words in your reviews, and I hope you continue to read and leave feedback! End Author's Note/
(36) Artist
There was a time when Karen had a mean streak mixed in with the other streaks that made up the colourful Mineral Town teenager. She had a particularly infamous temper that had a tendency to flare up unpredictably. What birthed this unsavory temper? The same things every teen dealt with at some point or another: an unstable homelife, a lack of genuine direction, and being half-way-to-married with a dork who still went to bed hugging a stuffed chicken. What killed this unsavory temper? Alcohol, probably - along with a good portion of Karen's brain cells.
If there was one person who still made Karen flare up on occasion, it was poor, unsuspecting, mild-mannered Jeff. Karen loved her dad, that was to be sure, but no father of a snarky teenager could be free from the occasional telling-off. It didn't help matters that her mother seemed to hold him in the palm of her hand - Jeff was, by far, the most weak-willed of the Lucine household. He was the cool morning mist to Karen and Sasha's crackling thunderstorm, the flickering candleflame to their raging inferno, the bottle of Light beer to their throat-burning whiskey.
It was that weak will that allowed him to stand behind the Supermarket's cash, his back turned to the store, painting diligently on the canvas before him, just as Anna walked out of the store with a nonchalant shrug and a bag of unpaid cucumbers.
"DAD." Karen slammed her fist down on the counter and got his attention. "Are you frickin' kidding me right now?!"
Jeff turned around, his work apron covered in the pukestains of a rainbow. He even managed to get some on his thinning moustache (a meager effort in comparison to the likes of Doug's majesty). Palm to her forehead, Karen shook her head dismally.
"Did - Did something happen, Karen?"
"Anna walked out without paying! Again! For the, like, four billionth time!"
"I can always add it to her tab..." Karen's father began rummaging with a mess of papers under the counter. "Where did I put her's... there's Duke's, Won's... Ah, I know I put it around here somewhere..."
"You are unbelievable!" harped his progeny, "What's gonna happen to us if the shop goes under, huh? You know Grandma and Grandpa aren't gonna bail us out like last time!" She refused to let her standards of living be threatened. Refused!
"Y-You're right, Sasha. I'm sorry - I'll call them up now." the small man reached for the phone, knocking over several papers as he did so. "Ah, woops..."
Satisfied, Karen's hands rested on her hips once again. Just what was he painting that was so distracting? Whatever it was, it was way beyond Karen's understanding. There were colours, shapes, lines, strokes... Nothing discernable, but enough to make Karen feel... calm? Her anger ebbed, the pigments of the paint absorbing it like droplets of rain into soil.
Holy crap, was that how art worked?
...
...Holy crap, did he just call her 'Sasha'?
# # #
Later that night, Karen dialed up the number to the Snackshack. Kai picked up: "Hey, Karen. 'Sup?"
"Kai! You know how you were talking about spiffying up the Snackshack the other day? I think I've got the perfect thing..."
At any rate, the calming effects of her father's painting might save Karen's ass the next time she showed up to work late.