Work Text:
The mountainous canyons of product-stacked shelves sprawled out in every direction, forming a labyrinth of steel and sundries. Anon pushed his shopping cart, glancing to and fro for the remaining items the household needed. Toilet paper, art supplies for Amber's school project, and, of course, a jumbo-sized bag of dino nuggies for his loving wife.
His daughter strolled next to him, hand in his, humming a tune he didn't recognize and gazing at the colorful items encircling them. She was a first grader now; after impressing the heck out of her kindergarten teacher with her ABC recitals and her prowess with a glue stick, the next step was that of addition and subtraction and being able to tell nouns from verbs.
Anon was very proud of his daughter. He knew that she was a smart little girl, and that she'd grow up to be–
She stopped abruptly. Anon glanced down, noting her vision transfix on something in the center of the aisle. Following her gaze, his eyes came to rest on a pop-up display adorned with eye-catching iconography and emblazoned with bold letters. Within were stacked dozens of plastic porcelain thrones, the imagery displaying a man's head smiling past a pencil-thin goatee popping out of the toilet bowl.
Amber said nothing. Her eyes were wide, and her lower beak hung open. Her still-developing wings twitched.
Anon cleared his throat. "Ah-you know what that is, huh?"
Amber nodded, and Anon cursed to himself. He was aware of it, too. A dredge that had been borne into the same zeitgeist-consuming space that once held the likes of Herobrine and Freddy Fazbear. Some form of anti-comedy that was eaten up by prepubescent dullards whose parents didn't have the wherewithal to do anything but jam a tablet in their children's hands and let them raise themselves on the internet and everything it had to rot their mind and stunt their development.
But he didn't do that to Amber. He and Lucy were good parents who taught her well. Sure, she was allowed some internet time under supervision, but she grew up knowing that the world was more than rizzes and Ohio's... didn't she?
He gulped. "It's a bit expensive, honey."
She still did not reply, merely gazing at the off-white lumps. If she asked for it, Anon didn't know that he could refuse her. Of course, he could , but she was a very good girl who seldom asked for anything beyond what she needed for school projects or the occasional resupply on her crayons and coloring books. She was not spoiled because she was always respectful. Anon and Lucy would give her the world if she asked for it, but she never did.
If... she wanted one of these things, hideous as they were, Anon would be a monster to deny her request. "Do you... want one, Amber?"
Finally, her focus shifted away from the display and up to her father's face. Her voice was as gentle and pure as her six year old heart. "No. Skibidi Toilet is retarded."
Anon blinked, then nodded with a smile. The two of them continued, hand in hand, toward the arts and crafts aisle. Anon blinked again, this time to push back the pride-filled tears.
They would be stopping for ice cream once their shopping was done.