Manson Allert glared at his own ceiling, looking at it with contempt as though it had done something bad to him before. Knowing that this action wouldn't lead to something meaningful, he sighed and properly sat on his small bed, or... more like a mattress stacked on some heavy suitcases.
His eyes scanned his small, cramped room. Only his "bed" and a small plastic desk were the large pieces of furniture. The floor was covered with used laundry and discarded sketch paper. On his desk, a worn-out lamp was constantly flickering in the low light of his room, and a couple of pens and markers were unorganized in their respective containers. His backpack lay on the floor in the corner. And to top it all, the only window in his room was small enough that only a puppy could realistically fit through.
This was where Manson Allert lived: a shaggy-looking trailer owned by his Aunt Maren. The whole home that the two lived in was a trailer park filled with the same homes in raggedy conditions.
After Manson left Quad Four after school to do his own thing, he felt strangely exhausted even though he only walked a couple miles back to his trailer.
He felt Cloey was feeling sick or angry... or maybe something different that he couldn't understand. She was slightly agitated ever since the absence of Sam contestant racked up, leading her past her breaking point. The sport dude's appearances had been pretty sparse ever since that time we went to Vivid Forest to collect samples for a science project.
Manson did feel bad for Cloey, missing her best friend every day, not knowing what he was doing or not. But her having to talk trash about his hair? What does she know about the meticulous details that he had to properly handle, especially with the brown portion on the top of his head? She should focus on Sam before commenting on other people. Sam was a dumb but good guy. What else would he be doing?
Hopefully not drugs. That would be a nightmare if that was true. If that was a true revelation, it would destroy Quad Four.
"I'm bored. Let me draw a sketch."
And so he attempted. He pulled out his sketchbook and a couple of dull pencils; it was nothing much, but he was too lazy to grab the fine ones under his bed. Manson stared at the blank pages, and nothing seemed to inspire him, or anything in his mind that he could transplant into the world of art. He tried figuring out characters to draw from Hypercosmic Battleground, but in the end, his imagination amounted to nothing; not even Starnis Wrath, his favorite character, could get him out of his foggy funk in his mind. Frustrated, he only drew a couple of stick figures and put away his art equipment in his art box, which was only a small cardboard box with scribbles from a black marker.
Manson finally had enough of being in his cramped room and went out to the door. The hallway was narrow, the carpet was tattered, and stains could be seen next to the outlets. It was not a pleasant sight to behold.
The room leading to the bathroom was always open since the door was chewed down by termites somehow living inside the trailer. So because of that, Manson and his aunt had to take turns being inside Manson's room while the other used the bathroom for a trip to the shower. The whole thing was a tedious process, but Manson himself got used to it in a couple of months; but for Aunt Maren? Not so much.
His thirst grew as the hot air ran rampant, while the air conditioning unit placed in the trailer remained broken. The living space, the only other room besides his bedroom, had items screwed all over the table and floor. The drawers were half opened overflowing materials and the wires that were held in bundles were so mismatched it would take a while to untangle and find which device it could actually connect to. He paid no mind to it all and went over to the fridge to grab a can of soda.
"Hopefully, the soda pack she bought yesterday will be grape flavored; I could settle with that."
Manson opened the fridge door, and there it was... the color of yellow sat in the plastic platform, awaiting those who would consume it.
"Ehhhh... lemonade? Not exactly the flavor that I had in mind, but it'll do."
He grabbed a single can from the wrapped plastic and made his way to the dining table. His feet propped on the cushions as he lay on the other pillow, staring into the smoky gray outdoors. He wasn't too fond that it was the bed that Aunt Maren sleeps in since Manson took the small bedroom already.
Manson thought about the whole day. Times when he would want to call his parents, but knew they were busy with their business in Moderma, the capital city of Green Country, the left side of The Middle Groundlands.
He kept that thought before he shook his head at himself. It was unnecessary to do so, since not many calls were returned by his mom or dad. It was funny, because in a way, his parents not being around was like Sam Davis not being around Quad Four. Maybe he was being too specific with that analogy, but it was certain that he needed to watch some television before he turned completely crazy, which reminded him that Pallnem, the crazy old man, hadn't been sighted at all in recent times, but it wasn't something Manson should worry about right now.
He grabbed the remote and pointed it towards the small, boxy TV situated on top of the wall shelf cluttered with plastic cups and prizes from the last city carnival.
It wasn't that hard to find the right channel to begin with as he turned it on, because the first channel he was shown was the local news of the whole city. The news anchor himself was there, always having to be like everything dandy and normal, like it was an ordinary day. Manson couldn't wait to get to the weather segment; that was where the real relaxation part came from.
"Good afternoon, Standart City. I hope you had a good afternoon because it will lead to another day of the ordinary. Our first news of the day is the continued disappearance of a local homeless man, Pallnem, with no last name known. I'm not sure we had to dedicate time to mentioning this strange fellow, but I'm sure nothing bad is going on with him."
Manson chuckled at the news. It was such a coincidence for the news guy to also mention Pallnem right after he thought about the same dude.
"Up next are the continued sightings of mysterious creatures. Some say they are shadows of the deep, while others say they are a prank by a notorious prank group. And I say that these scares have caused enough trouble already. But not to worry, as local law enforcement continues to dedicate themselves."
Nothing coming up that interested Manson yet.
"Additionally, we have gotten further information within the Honoway Mall kidnapping scene in the bathrooms that one of the kidnapped victims of the teenage serial killer, Jed Sampson, has reportedly passed away. The victim's name was Mallorie Vernic, and officials say that the death was self-inflicted at one o'clock a.m. last night."
Something finally interested him in the news, and it was part of the event in Honoway Mall where Jed apparently kidnapped all those people and attempted to kill them later. It was something so frightening, especially within this ordinary little city. And for someone like Jed, who interacted with Quad Four a few hours before he got arrested...
And that poor Mallorie Vernic girl, she must have had severe trauma from being cooped up inside that supply closet room for several days after being kidnapped. Manson thought that was the source of how she took her own life.
"Oh, and do we have some other news right now outside?"
The environment switched from the local news station to the outside, with heavy rain in the background. There was a woman with a microphone and a raincoat, constantly battered by the torrent of rain and wind.
"Thank you, it's really raining—"
Manson switched off the television before the woman had anything else to say about the current weather. Now that he thought about it, there wasn't really rainy weather outside; only sunny rays of sunshine pierced through the sky. But it was whatever for him, since he wasn't all that crazy about weather like Varedeth was. That magical girl would think that weather comes from magic cores hidden away in the underground. Talk about a new set of crazy.
He decided to rest comfortably in his position while drinking his soda, closing his eyes to block off the visual reality and let himself get lost in the darkness of imagination that was in his eyelids. But before he could reach that state of peace, a loud array of thuds came from outside the trailer.
The door flew open, and an outstretched leg covered by golden belted boots. Manson looked over and saw that it was his immature aunt, Maren, who almost knocked the door off its hinges. Her dark hair and skin were sweltering from the heat outside, staining the red dress she was currently wearing.
Here she was, the owner of the whole trailer that she found sitting in some garbage dump, where she eventually would make it her home and live next to other people living in trailers.
When Manson first arrived to live with her, he was curious about what it would feel like to live in a trailer park instead of a neighborhood, but later on he would realize how stuffy the whole place could be, especially during the summer.
"Ugh, this totally sucks. I need a drink, like right now or else I'm gonna pass out."
"Aunt Maren? You okay?"
He grabbed another lemon-flavored soda can from the fridge and tossed it to her. Aunt Maren immediately caught it in the air with her one hand.
"Thanks, I really needed a drink, but I really liked a beer more," she admitted.
"Nuh-uh. You promised my mom that you wouldn't drink so much alcohol that you could get drunk every day. You know I will have to make you go through with that promise."
"Buuuttt, it's too hard," Aunt Maren whined. "Can I at least have one can? I won't ask for another one for a month, I swear."
"Even if I did agree to that, don't you have cash from your job at that restaurant? You could have just bought something by yourself... and not ask me for money, if you're implying something like that."
Aunt Maren avoided looking directly at Manson's eyes, causing him to think that she was holding other things that she wouldn't tell him.
"Is there anything else you would like to say?"
"Well..." she began, with her two index fingers wrapped around each other. "I... um... I got fired today."
"What?! Are you serious with me right now?!"
"It's not my fault; some customers were getting real snotty with me, and so I just smacked the eyelash extensions out of her. Damn, did it feel good though. So after that I got fired and went back home since I have nothing else to do."
He couldn't believe it. Aunt Maren losing another job, the tally continued to increase of her being fired. Also, it was getting harder and harder to find another job, which Manson had to look for by himself since she was too lazy to do anything other than talk with the guys next door. Always complimenting her features, then back to watching TV.
"Whatever," Manson flatly said to her. "We'll try to find another job for you tomorrow. When the newspapers arrive, we will both look into the job section to find one. And this time, you'd better make sure that you stay in one."
"Fine..." she groaned in reply. "But can't this wait until next week? I got other plans with my friends. And for real though, I want to experience the treasure of love since they all experienced it already."
Her face gave off a vibe of a sad puppy wanting to be treated better, and crazily enough, it made Manson second-guess himself. Just seeing this sorry sight made him sigh in defeat. Aunt Maren did seem dejected with her day; her tired eyes could tell him that.
"Please, you're a grown woman being this ridiculous. You know how dumb you act when you're tired."
"Shut up..." Aunt Maren coolly snapped. "I know you feel bad about me..."
"Save that for someone else, ugh. But, maybe I'll give you another chance with this job hunt thing going on..." Manson softly stated.
Aunt Maren rubbed her forehead and looked at Manson with droopy eyes, tears welling inside that almost leaked out. Key word: "almost".
"Hey, Manson, I know that you had to leave your parents since they were on some sort of business trip in another city and they couldn't take care of you. My sister kept pestering all the little things that you would need, and oh my god, it was so embarrassing for you, no offense."
"N-none taken? Um, are you trying to make me feel—?"
"But for real this time, I just want to let you know that I care about you and her, because you're both my family, and I really appreciated it when you always helped me with the food shortages and that you would always help me with the groceries since I almost always get lost in the city—"
An alarm rang on her phone, which she immediately answered.
"Yeah?"
A couple of whispered words were exchanged between the caller and his aunt. After a few moments, she suddenly squealed with delight, causing Manson to tilt his head in puzzlement.
"What is it? What's going on?" Manson tried to ask her over her voice.
"My friends just invited me to that new awesome restaurant that just opened! And they're almost in the front of the line! I gotta go right now!"
She immediately threw the empty soda can out of the window and went to put on her coat again. If only she were this determined, she could use this energy for serious adult tasks. Manson tried to catch her attention to remind her of something.
"Hold on! What about dinner?"
"Cook for yourself; you're a smart kid, aren't you? Just so you wait, Abby, because I'm gonna be here before you know it. I'll be going to that restaurant right now, Manson, see ya!"
"Great. Maybe somehow you'll be offered to get hired for the restaurant when you arrive there!"
"Maybe. I am a hardworking girl; that's what other people said about me. Hard? Working? I'm hardworking?" she replied.
And there she went. Up and left the trailer home, not even spending more than thirty minutes inside before she left. She looked extremely happy to get that call from her friend about going to the restaurant. Manson wondered what the name of the place was, since he didn't even hear of a grand opening of such a place among his classmates at the high school. He hoped Aunt Maren wouldn't offer to pay for the whole meal since the budget was already tight as it was.
With no other distraction to... well... distract Manson, he continued to lie down and focus on getting some rest. Tomorrow will be a new day. Another day in the city of the ordinary.