984 >Meowrage: walk with PS

You walk into a street market.  Smells fill your nose like no other.  Noise so social, if you were socially anxious, you'd break down, but you're not, so instead you only mildly freak out.  You stroll by clothing, food, old typewriters?, knock-off Legos, food, stands to read fortune, old cinevessels calling themselves "movies" (what preposterousness), videogames, food, hats, shoes, food.  You let your curiosity take the best of you and you order fish sticks.  You love fish sticks.  You eat them all the time whenever your dad is late in the shop, and you need something quick to eat.  He usually stays late at the shop working on one car that he's never actually going to finish, but he still tries.  You wonder if your mother hadn't died when you were so young would their marriage have devolved into the same fate as so many other relationships do, or would they find compromise or even more love in each other than before.

Your dad, as mentioned way long ago, is a mechanic.  But I neglected to mention that he ran his own shop.  "Meowroar's mechanics" quite simply.  Meowroar, of course, is his name.  All cats have very cutesy names.  Your family has a tradition of having meow at the start and having some r-strating thing afterwards.  Your father is Meowroar, your mother was Meowriah, you yourself are Meowrage, and your grandmother is Meowrisa.  Some of your friends at your old school (before your father enrolled you into online Newer Home High School) had very cutesy names too: mittens, captain business, sir-grumps-a-lot, duke sandwichman, etc.  You like your name because it's fun to say, "meowrage" "meow-rage" "meow mirage".  Back to your dad, he used to get these 64 packs of fish sticks because your grandmother didn't live with you and he would work long into the night, and he taught you how to use the microwave to heat them up so you would have something to eat.  Of course, milk was still an option if you absolutely had to eat something, but the milk time milk left a weird taste in your mouth.

That was one of the several reasons that you don't like your dad.  That, and he isn't very approachable, nor is he understanding of you and your wants/needs.  He also fluctuates between being overbearing and neglectful, which sometimes happens many times in a single conversation.  I may remind you that he heard that you loved dragons and bought you nothing but dragons every birthday, christmas, etc.  But you look back at his early days of fatherhood with nostalgia rather than the expected trauma.  You think about it hard, and yeah, your dad showed his fair of bad parenting, but he still was an influential figure in your life growing up.

You are handed the fish stick and notice that they aren't the frozen, fried things that you are used to.  No, on the contrary, it looks like fresh-caught fish grilled on a grill that has been speared with a stick with its fish brethren through a sweet and savory sauce.  You take a bite and are immediately transported back to your childhood with that one bite.  Much like the scene in the cinevessel Ratatoing.  You urge your problem-solving companion to try a bite, but he looks impatient as he pulls out his wallet to pay for your fish.

You tell him that you would pay, but you don't have any Prospit money.  He tells you, sternly, that he understands, but that you two need to get going if you're going to make it to the church before Syb enters the medium.

>Meowrage: urge on