The Fault In Our Star

I ask you, have you ever felt the urgent need to slap your best friend, because of all that nincompoop does on a regular basis? If yes, you will understand me better than anyone. If no, you probably do not have a friend, and I offer you my sincerest respect for that golden decision.

I knew I could not make it to Marla’s Christmas party or whatever shit she dragged me into, and trust me, I could not be happier. What actually stinks is that while she’s out there flirting with the cute new neighbor she’s got, I am here trying to get my stupid car move one more goddamn inch. And my blood, sweat and tears finally paid off when I fought the growing winds and crashed near the supermarket I had been watching for a while. Not that I had a choice anyway, the winds were gaining speed, probably about to start a blizzard and I could not see another building as far as I looked. 

Quick as a flash, I opened the main door and entered in. Why the hell was the door open? Don’t ask me, I’m yet to figure out this country. The light were surprisingly still on. I honestly did not know what to expect; back home, supermarkets proudly served as the public toilets for pests. Not to mention those tiny ladies and gentlemen never forget to accidently clean after it was all over, and any step you would take, there would be a 50 percent chance of stepping on the glorious spheres of undigested waste matter they had left for you. I do know how the insides of a supermarket looked here, except that I don’t remember much other than feeling squashed like a sardine in a can. That would not be the problem here though, this supermarket was deserted. I could not find a reasonable answer as to why the employers would leave the door open, and why there was no other people seeking refuge from the upcoming blizzard here, but I let it go because like I said, I am yet to figure this country out.

Anyway, I figured I was going to be here for a while and decided to take some essentials: some Starfruit, a bag of Lay’s, some Skittles, and some light booze, all the items a young adult would need to survive a possibly-lethal blizzard. But after the initial excitement of shoplifting faded away, I finally looked around and though the front side of the supermarket was well lit, the far side was seemed to give off the vibe of an eerie and impenetrable darkness. It scared the living daylights out of me.

I looked outside again, the winds were still growing in speed and magnitude, snow was gripping over my car as if it were the hands of a toddler gripping a cookie. Still, I could not convince myself to stay and just when I was about to push the door open, I swear I heard a chuckle from the dark corner. By the time I calmed myself down enough to move a muscle, the blizzard already reached its peak. Huge rolls of deceptively innocent white snow came hammering down on whatever was unfortunate enough to be in its path. It reminded me of a YouTube video I had seen of some cute, little, chubby children hugging Santa Claus till he suffocated and died.

I was laughing my fear off, the way that therapist from YouTube had instructed when someone or something joined me in laughing. I instantly stopped, but the cackling went on for maybe two more seconds. Now do not get me wrong, I had seen enough horror movies to know this was the part where I would be devoured alive. So I looked back, in the approved fashion of being killed by a demon, and noticed the noise came from the back of the supermarket. 

Maybe it was my curiosity or maybe the kick I would get from it, or maybe even the knowledge of horror movies guiding me, but I slowly inched ahead and getting tired of the suspense, gripped the aisle as hard as I could and took a good look at the monster hiding. I was expecting to see a hideous looking demon with blood red eyes and knives as fingernails ready to collect my soul, but instead what I saw was a rather constipated- looking baby sitting peacefully on the floor, looking up at me excitement in its eyes. 

Now I was nervous, I can handle a demon and a few murderers but a baby is totally out of the question.

 “What are you doing here, Stink Bomb?”, I asked it, not that I was expecting an answer, because this baby looked like it just learned to sit. 

“ Why of course, I was just observing the intelligence of the adult version of my species”, it said, tilting its chin up as if mocking me for assuming it could not talk.

The baby talking just assured me that maybe I had too much booze and was tripping, but the remark at the tip of my tongue was just too hard to give away.

“Babies are so intelligent, aren’t they?”, I asked it, hoping it would fall to my trap.

“Of course we are, we human babies are undoubtedly one of the most intelligent species out there.”

“Yes, yes, babies prove their superior intelligence every single day in the most conspicuous ways: puking on themselves and eating all of it again; biting people like animals; soiling themselves without any visible reason, and the list goes on and on. And you know the worst part? All you babies ever do is cry and babble in a language no one really knows, but when it is time to talk about important issues like women’s rights, or Black Lives Matter, or LGBTQ+ rights, the screw is shut tight on your saliva covered mouths.”

There, I let it have it and looked at Stink Bomb with a triumphant look on my face. Except that it was looking at me like I was the inferior brained one in the room.

“ All we ever do is cry?! Do you nincompoops think you can understand the subtle and highly intellectual language of Baby Talk? The moment you all grow up, all your brain starts shrinking and then all you adults do is calculate taxes and write love letters no one will read. ”

“Wait a second…if adults are not supposed to understand children and vice versa, how are we both throwing a word-war here?”, I asked. 

The baby faltered a little, probably doing a cost-benefit analysis in its head or whatever babies do, but it proved me wrong by burping.

“Ah, now that’s like it. I had been holding that in for so long.”, it said with a satisfied smile gracing its saliva-covered lips. “Anyway, about your question, see the reason is in that horrible smelling liquid you adults like to drink, booze or liquor or whatever you call them. Its the starch combined with the drink that does it. See it is an excellent plan, guy drinks liquor, talks to kiddos, gathers all the knowledge in the world, sobers up, forgets all of it. And if by chance he remembers the slightest detail, the fear of being called crazy will keep his mouth shut for good.” 

I nodded, it did make sense though, kind of a derivative of Boss Baby. I just had one last question.

“But how did you end up here, in the middle of nowhere?”

It tilted its head up high, eyes rolling back into its head, maybe because of the complete and total sense of abandonment it felt being stuck here. I was just about to change the topic to something lighter when it said the few words that made my curiosity skyrocket.

“Oh, my dad left me here.”, it said with complete non-chalance. It looked at my face, probably making an intelligent guess that I was utterly confused. “Why do you look so muddled?”

“Um, maybe because you would have starved to death if left long enough and BTW ,what kind of a father is he? Leaving his kid in a deserted supermarket in the middle of nowhere? 

“To be honest, it’s a regular thing for us, him getting drunk, us having a pretty decent conversation until he shits his pants and then runs home for new pants and sleeps away until mom turns the house down to look for me, and then he eventually comes back to get me.”

“So how long does that usually take? Him coming back to take you? Maybe you’ll stay longer here today, the blizzards not calming down in the least.” As soon as I said that, we both looked outside through the small window and sighed.

“Nah, he is not coming back for another week, mom just died last night.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t be so sorry, she wasn’t that good of a mom either, always leaving me around with that drunk male parental unit of mine while she goes off partying with her friends.”

Another “Oh” was all I could say. How do you even respond to something like that? 

“You know, maybe oh will be our always,” it said, smirking. I laughed, to read and fangirl over John Green’s work is the only reason I live.

The blizzard blared like a donkey being strangled with barb wire, and it was probably going to be a pain in the ass trying to leave this supermarket through all the snow piled up once this is over, but for now, I felt safe, at home.

If someone had told me this morning that I would half my day sitting on my semi-drunk ass, fangirling over The Fault in Our Stars with a baby, while a blizzard destroys all of humanity (ok, I am exaggerating about the destroying all of humanity part) and still be the happiest I can be, I would laugh my guts out, but that is actually what we did next.