rosebleed | (no subject)

It is long after midnight. A moment stolen away from the imposing airs of the family home, absconded with your lover. You caress their face. Greasepaint tracks upon your fingertips. You do not care. You are into that.

"My paramour," they whisper, "You are the only one I trust, the apple of my eye...honk me."

You smile and oblige. You squeeze their nose twice. HONK HONK.

"Ah!" they cry in ecstasy. "Again!"

HONK HONK HONK.

"Aiyaaah!" They kick their size seventeen feet in delight. "You rascal! I adore you!"

You blush and kiss their well-honked nose. "Aishiteru, Bobo-chan..."

"Shall I juggle for you? Or produce a balloon animal worthy of your splendor?"

"The latter," you giggle, "But please, make haste — lest the noise wake the donkey."

The donkey, which sleeps not far beyond your secret rendez-vous, has been having trouble sleeping anyway because you guys are so damn obnoxious. It rolls over and tries to scoop hay over its ears, but this will not help. Neither of you notice.

Bobo fetches a balloon from their satchel, and puckers their lips around the limp end. They maintain eye-contact as they blow, and blow, and blow, until a long red sausage of a balloon stands bulging in mid-air. When it can grow no further, Bobo ties the end off and begins to twist it. Their white gloves slip and slide over the turgid form, moulding it, shaping it expertly into a resplendent figure. At last, they present it to you.

You accept it with trembling hands. Could it really be?

"Why, it's a Labubu!"

"Only the best for you, my stars and moon."

You fold into a passionate embrace, the wooden beams under you creaking.

WHAM!!

Suddenly the door crashes open. There is a voice, belligerent and bellowing. "GIT OFF MAH CHILE, YA DAMN DIRTY CLOWN!"

kaBLAM!!

A hole is fired through the roof. "I SAID GIT!"

You both startle to your feet, which is hard because your legs were tied up in knots.

"My Daddy's got a gun, my Daddy's got a gun!" you cry, "My Daddy's got a gun! You better run!"

"Sacré bleu!" yelps Bobo, who scrambles to flee the hayloft. But their clown feet are too big and stupid. They slip seven times on the hay, somersault, and flip directly into the next bullet.

kaBLAM!!

Their head explodes into delicious, candy coated funfetti. You fall to your knees weeping, clutching your Ballubu tight. Pa takes his ass back to the crack shack with his long johns on, singing that old song.

But you will not forgive, and you will not forget. You will have your revenge.

In HAYLOFT II: MY BABY'S GOT A GUN! THE THRILLING CONCLUSION TO THE HAYLOFT SAGA, COMING TO A THEATER NEAR YOU FOURTEEN YEARS LATER! THE PERFECT SEQUEL TO BOOKEND YOUR PLAYLISTS, FOR YOU AND EVERYONE YOU KNOW!