little girl tugs on her mother’s sleeve

“Mom…why is that person wearing, um…that??”

Mom, confused, looks around

“Honey, you know you shouldn’t ta~” she stops as her eyes find the source of her daughter’s confusion.

“Mommy?” the girl asks, uncertainty in her tone.

“D-d-don’t make eye contact, honey. I’m uh sure he has his…” she stops, mouth agape for a moment before recovering, “…and now he’s screaming at that garbage bin. We’re gonna go! Come on, honey!”

in the distance

“I FEEL SO FREE FROM THE SHACKLES AND CONFINES OF THIS ONCE JAIL OF CULTURAL IGNORANCE! THIS BIN! THIS GARBAGE BIN REPRESENTS THE OLD WAYS. THE TRASH WAYS. I HAVE ACCEPTED MY WEIRDNESS. MY ECCENTRICITIES ARE OPEN TO ALL!”

Phegan was never heard from again after this moment.