I Have No Home / Take Me Home (skit 1)

Drifting away from the holiday spirit... 

I'm here with a new Duke and Fierdan skit story. The impulsive tragic disasters are back! 

This skit story is very emotional and painful. It makes the last one seem like nothing in comparison. 

Contains strong language. Content warning for alcohol and mentions of sex.

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[Date: December 16th. Sunday. Time: Between 4:15 and 4:30 am. The beginning of the skit takes place in Duke's perspective because the dialogue is in a dream he's having. He refers to them by those words, despite everything that happened between them and him. It adds more pain. Poor Duke. </3] 

Father: *sighs* I don't understand why you are so determined to keep it. Don't tell me you've grown attached to the thing. 

Mother: *turns around sharply to face him* That "thing" is our son. 

Father: *rolls eyes* Son.. ugh, okay, fine. 

Mother: I'm not giving him up. 

Father: Why are you making this mess even more complicated? We should just drop him off somewhere, that's it, we never hear from him again. 

Mother: *speaks louder than intended* No! 

Father: We can drop him off on any of the city streets. He'll die soon after, and that's one burden less for the both of us. 

Mother: *stands directly in front of him* I said no. *holds up her hand as if she is ready to slap the side of his face* He is our son, *lowers hand* whether we want him to be or not. 

Father: I know you didn't want him just as much as I didn't want him. I would think you would be desperate to get rid of him, considering how...

Mother: *frowns* Considering what? 

Father: You had to.. hold him inside you--

Mother: *looks away, starts to walk away* Ugh, I don't have the energy to deal with this. You are a lazy, unhelpful slob. Taking care of a baby is exhausting. You should try it some time. 

Father: We weren't expecting to become parents. You shouldn't harm yourself, dear. 

Mother: *turns around, has an angry look in her eyes, face contorts with rage* Do not fucking start that shit with me! You are the last person who has the right to tell me I shouldn't harm myself! 

Father: Relax. 

Mother: Relax? Did you seriously command me to relax? 

Father: You're stressed. I can tell. I just want you to be alright. 

Mother: Obviously, I'm stressed! I'm the only one in this house who has, who can, who will make sure our baby is cared for and is given the bare necessities for life. I'm now a goddamn mother, thanks to you. New mothers don't get an opportunity to just breathe and relax. 

Father: Okay look, I'll help you take care of him. What do you want me to do? You never told me you needed my assistance. 

Mother: What? Do I have to explicitly tell you that having you do something, anything, to help the baby is appreciated? 

Father: *looks down* I.. *looks up* I can dress him, change his--

Mother: *looks less full of rage* Yeah, you can change his diapers. Shit can handle the shit. I'm glad you know what you really are. 

Father: *sighs* I'm also willing to change his clothes. 

Mother: Haha no. You won't be doing that. 

Father: Do you need my help or not, woman? 

Mother: Of course I do. You, however, are prohibited from dressing and undressing him. Everything else.. well, go wild. 

Father: *suddenly blurts out* I didn't mean to make you become pregnant! I really didn't plan for things to turn out like this. It.. *shakes head* Our son was unplanned, and I know we both want nothing to do with him. 

Mother: It's way too late for apologies. You caused this mess. *breathes heavily* It's all your fault. *pauses* You really hurt me. 

Father: Stop pretending that you love him when we both know you hate him for burdening you. I know you hate that thing you are so determined to call a son. Let's just get rid of him. Other people would be more than happy to take care of him. They'll be better parents than us, any day of the week. 

Mother: We are his parents! Why do you refuse to accept that? If you're so strongly against having a child, then you should have thought of that before you decided to fuck me. 

Father: *yells* I know you hate him, Calliah! 

Mother: You're right. I probably hate him. But do you know who I hate even more? I hate you. I fucking hate you. You're one of the reasons why Duke was born. Duke himself never did anything wrong by existing. You, on the other hand, aren't innocent. I'll always hate you and him more than Duke. 

Father: *is skeptical* Wait, did I hear you right? 

Mother: Hear what?

Father: Who is that other "him" you mentioned? What is his name? 

Mother: *looks away* Uh... 

Father: Don't tell me I'm not the father. *has a dangerous look in his eyes* You better not have been yelling shit only to avoid telling me "our son" is yours and another man's. 

Mother: *heart beats faster* Duke is your child, I swear! 

Father: *grins showing his teeth* If another guy fucked you, I'll find and fucking kill him. 

Mother: *says under her breath* Well, he's already a dead man. *thinks* Fierdan couldn't have done that to my unborn baby. He can't possibly have the ability to. Fierdan died. He's dead, he's dead, he's fucking dead! 

[. . . .]

[Time: 4:45 am. Location: Duke's bedroom. He wakes up effortlessly. His heart is racing in his chest. There's water in his lungs, and the water is too deep for his shallow lungs. He has bedhead but making his hair look less like a wreck is the last thing on his mind. Instead, Duke sits up sharply in bed and then gets off it. He walks, with a slight stumble, across the floor. When he's standing between the bed and the door, he bends over and gags. He stays like that for a few minutes. He's trying to force himself to throw up, but nothing comes out. Then he gives up, wipes the sleep from his eyes, and opens his door.] 

Duke: *speaks blearily* Fuck. Fuck! *as if by command, his stomach rumbles* My stomach really is empty. There's nothing in me. *starts going downstairs, holding the railing a little too tightly* I'm really in the mood to get drunk. Flat out wasted. *lets out a satisfied sigh* I'll make myself be the very definition of a "drunkie" for you, Brock. *there's a deep sadness in his eyes* Heh.. that sounds nice. 

[Duke goes to the kitchen in search for alcohol.]

Duke: *is frustrated that alcohol isn't the first thing he sees when he opens the fridge, the food closet, and the cupboards* Damn it! Where is it? Where the hell is it? *throws things in the kitchen left and right in desperation to find anything with alcohol in it* 

[Annoyed by the lack of alcohol, he leaves the kitchen. Then he considers searching through the dining room. He goes into that room.] 

Duke: Where does he store it? *throws papers behind him until papers are scattered around his feet* Fierdan must have moved the bottles. He doesn't want me to find them, but I will. Oh, I will! 

[Time: 5:00 am. Duke reaches deep inside a cabinet or whatever it's called in the dining room. He takes out a medium-sized cardboard box and sets it on the floor next to him. He quickly opens the box and smiles widely.] 

Duke: *looks smug* You can't outsmart me. If I'm desperate and dedicated to find something, then I will find it. Try harder next time, Fierdan. *pauses and laughs* Thanks for including the bottle opener. *grabs two bottles of wine and the bottle opener* 

[After hesitating for almost a minute, Duke organizes the papers into stacks. He easily removes the corks that first cover the bottle openings tightly and securely from the two wine bottles, puts the bottle opener back in the box in the place where he found it, and closes the box. Then he pushes the box to the back of the cabinet. He puts the papers back to where they were before. When Duke thinks the dining room looks like it was before, he cleans up the mess he made in the kitchen as fast as he can. When he's done with that and back in his room with the bottles, the time is nearly 5:20.] 

Duke: *sets the bottles on the floor, stands still for a minute to catch his breath* I'm nothing more than the result of an unplanned and unwanted pregnancy, huh. I'm nothing more than a burden. I'm a thing. Well, fuck you two then. *takes the cork off one of the bottles, holds the bottle as he sits on his bed, lifts it up* Here's to having shitty parents, I guess. Fuck it all. *starts drinking* 

[He drinks the wine like it's just another bottle of soda. He drinks it like it's nothing. When he's a third of the way done with the bottle, he stops and gazes up at the ceiling.] 

Duke: *not sounding sober* I was born into a place that lacked safety and love. I have no home. I never had a place of comfort to return to. *looks back at the bottle then through it* Take me home. 

[Duke continues drinking. He only pauses for a few seconds to breathe easier or to catch his breath. He only lets go of the bottle from his hands or from between his thighs once he looks out his window and can vaguely see the sun beginning to rise. Once the sun has risen, Duke is passed out. The bottle, with its cork back in, lies next to his pillow as if it's the equivalent of a bedside companion. But then he moves his arm in his sleep, causing the bottle to roll away and crash onto the floor. Thankfully, it doesn't shatter. The bottle simply lies on the floor next to the bed, showing that Duke drank over half of its contents.] 

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Yikes. Duke, sweetie, that's not good. :'(

To be continued. 

(omg when did it become 4 am in my time zone?! aaaahhhhhh!!!)