May and her family must be completely fucking pathetic.
I'm sure it's been said before but can you imagine how much it would suck to be Harry Morris? Your daughter is massively autistic and you send her off to college hoping she's at least the smart kind but
plop, that baby bird lands right back in the nest, still flightless and shrieking for tendies. She vegetates for a year in a room increasingly filling with pastel colored weebshit and just as you're coming to terms with the rest of your life spent caring for your retarded offspring,
a miracle! She gets a boyfriend. She
moves out of your house to live with her boyfriend. She
gets engaged to her boyfriend! The nightmare is over, sure it's not everything you hoped but she has a normal life ahead of her.
At some point however, you meet Digi, which could be one of several flavours of horror depending on when it happens. Was he in his eternally unwashed arc or his troon arc? In any case, your vision of a stable if mediocre future for May crashes down in that instant and shortly thereafter you have to come collect her stuff from the Digishack. Every figurine and poster placed in your car sounds like the thud of a brick being cemented into your tomb. She's back again and you've taken care of her for 20 years, you can manage the rest. It's fine. It's
fine.
You should know better than to hope, months later when she finds a new boyfriend. "Oh he's an entertainer? The best in his sektur you say? That's nice sweetie. Is this one gay? Are you sure? Well you know you always have a place here if it doesn't work out." Still you can't help it. You're only human. Where once a fire burned brightly in your breast for the good life your daughter might lead, now smolders the ember of that vision of mediocrity you saw last year. Maybe she'll be alright. A year flies by and she's pregnant, so the dude can't be
that gay. He's coming over for thanksgiving. You come face to face with the deformed countenance of Ethan Ralph. Your landline voicemail is inundated with 6 million clips of him screaming "NOT THE OVEN DOOOOOOOR".
You resolve not to convert that old bedroom into an office. It doesn't hurt so much this time. It was only a fool's hope.
It's fine.