For someone looking from the outside, the Roy family seemed as put together as any other precocious and morally ambiguous family did. A family who fought at each others throats like wild dogs.
Though once Matilda got close enough to the Roy's to pee...
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Eight Months Ago
The cold in upstate New York wasn't as brutal as his hometown of Vancouver, though the temperature in Greg Hirsch's beat up Mitsubishi rental car would have anyone thinking otherwise. He had the heating set to the highest temperature possible as he drove from his roadside motel through the early morning fog.
Despite the bass in his speakers rumbling from whatever shitty top 20 song was playing through the radio, the vibration of the cracked plastic slats in the air vents always seemed to be louder. He mumbled the melody gently whilst he parked a healthy distance from the theme park's entrance. He knew that what he was about to do could be quite unsavoury to potential passer-by's.
Reaching into his pocket Greg pulled out a small box and a slender pipe, which resembled a standard tobacco cigarette to the untrained eye. He scooped up some of the pre-chopped marijuana from the box, pushing it into the pipe gently with his finger before placing the metal stick between his lips. A sense of dread filled Greg as he leant his head back against the car seat; the last thing he wanted to do at this ungodly hour of the morning was to be surrounded by children.
With a few clicks of his lighter, he guarded the flame with his free hand and took a few short puffs to start.
He felt the smoke venture its way down into his lungs as he inhaled deeply, before the tingling sensation of the weed scratched at his throat as he exhaled. Smoke wafted delicately throughout his car, swirls of pale grey dancing around his head as he hummed the melody of whatever radio chart topper played as he pulled up.
Driving into the parking lot and stopping just a stones throw away from the entrance, another employee enrolled in the Waystar Royco management training exited her Uber in a thick brown coat. Greg watched innocently whilst taking slow drags of his weed, observing her sip from the takeaway coffee cup in her hand as she stood quietly with several other employees.
He rolled his heavy head to the side as he noticed movement in his peripheral vision. More and more cars had arrived to the previously desolate car park, prompting him to check his phone for the time. Realising he had just six minutes before his session started, he rushed to smoke the remaining dregs of his weed and coughed as he quickly leant over the passenger seat to retrieve his backpack. As he pushed the car door open quickly, a gust of the brisk cool air hit his face, causing a shiver to run up Greg's spine and an involuntary gasp to slip from his lips.
Climbing out of the drivers seat, he slung each of the backpack straps over his shoulders and waved his hands haphazardly around him in attempts to flush the thick smoke out of the car. It was only until the completion of his smoking that he realised two things: the first being that he most certainly could not smoke inside a rental car, and the second was that he had forgotten about the McDonalds hash brown he ordered on the way here sitting in the cup holder.
As more and more of his fellow 'future managers' were walking through the entrance, Greg quickly held the now lukewarm hash brown between his teeth, put the hood of his green anorak jacket over his head and jogged across the lot to join them.
