Chapter Text
Gillion Tidestrider woke up with a yawn at the same time he always did, and pulled his sea green hair with natural lime highlights into a messy bun. His sparkling orbs gazed into the reflective mirror, glancing over his pajamas with little fishies on them. Pretzel, his pet Frogtopus, made burbling noises from her tank in the corner of the room. As Gil rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he took a moment to look around his familiar bedroom, with its posters for his favorite bands such as King Shrimpson, Van Whalen, and Nine Inch Snails. The day had started the same as any other, so why did he feel like something was about to happen that would alter his entire destiny?
“GILLION!!!!!!!! COME DOWN HERE!!!!!!!!”
That raucous scream was from Gillion’s mother, who was addicted to drugs and hookers. Gillion breasted boobily down the stairs to see what was the matter.
“Gillion, I have sold you to the Riptide Pirates in exchange for heroine and crack cocaine. Goodbye bitch i hope i nrver see you again”
How could this be? What in the fucking world?
“You soled me to WHO????” Gillion ejaculated.
“Not The Who, dipshit, the Riptide Pirates! They are a super popular boy-and-one-girl band who people all over the world are fucking crazy about!!!!! In fact they are here to pick you up right now and also to give me my pot cigarettes.”
The front door burst open with a crash, several figures spilling into the room where Gillion and his unnamed alcoholic mother stood. The first thing that Gil noticed was the most incredible brown orbs he had ever seen, an absolutely sparkling pair of caramel-colored eyeballs. Unfortunately, as his gaze zoomed out he realized those balls belonged to the most basic ass bland saltine lookin ass white boy bitch the world had ever seen. Next to that absolute communion wafer of a man was a flaming redhead girl who quite frankly exuded girlbossery.
“Are you mrs. Tidestrider?” the girl snapped, injecting a frankly frightening amount of military strictness into her dulcet tones. Gill’s ears (well, not his ears, actually the fins where his ears would have been if he was human) flinched back at her snappishness.
“I am,” gill’s mom said. “Where’s my money?”
“Gillion Tidestrider,” the red-haired, blue-orbed girlboss said, “go and pack your things. You have ten minutes.” she turned to Gill’s mom, shoving a briefcase bulging with money and weed at her. Gill knew it was full of money and weed because the green stuff was coming out of the seams of the case and flying everywhere in the breeze of the ceiling fan. Like a fucking cartoon.
“Eight minutes,” the wonderbread boy sighed boredly. Gill realized he’d been staning on the stairs with his mout open for two whole minutes! He rushed back upstairs to pack. His mind raced. Why had his mom sold him to a band?? Why did the band even want to buy him in the first place?
Gillion didnt know very much, but he was an expert in economics. He knew that demand for a commodity signaled suppliers to begin supplying that commodity, but sometimes it was the act of supply that began the demand in the first place. So what had come first in the intricate dance of supply and demand? Had his mother put him up for sale and the band bought? Or had the band said they were looking for someone and his mother offered him??
“Oh, Pretzel,” Gill whaled, “what am I gonna do? My mom soled me! And i don;t even know why!”
Pretzel burbled sadly, obviously trying to comfort Gill.
“And I can’t even take you with me!” he moaned. “Your tank is too big and heavy, even for my ridiculously buff arms and rippling abs!” he started sobbing, the salty tears mixing with his naturally moist fish skin to create a crust of beautiful white seafoam around his eyes. It looked like white eyeliner against his blue skin.
“Hey loser” someone said.
Gill whipped around, pressing his back against Pretzel’s tank. The boy with the beautiful Twix-like eyes stood in his open doorway. Gill’s mom wouldn’t let him have a real door because she didn’t want him to have any secrets.
“Come on,” the guy said, tossing his dark chocolate hair to the side. “Your ten minutes are up. We’re leaving.”
“But I didnt even get a chance to pack!” gillion cried.
“Doesnt matter,” the bored boy said. “Let’s go.”
Gillion tried to back away as the boy moved toward him, but Pretzal’s tank was already right behind him! The whitebread boy sprang forwards and knocked him out.
The last thing Gill saw was the boy’s tall leather boots. And then everyhting… faded to black.