Real men never make two trips to get the groceries.
This commandment was the sole reason why there was a haggard billionaire struggling to walk the stained marble stairs of his 5 storey mansion. With his Louis Vitto Manhattan Richelieu men's shoes dragging against the marble, he once again attempts to hoist the 50 pound bag of groceries up the stupid fucking piece of shit expensive ass flight of stairs. He could feel his lungs straining and his arms were about to snap off.
"Snickles," he mutters under his breathe as he takes another agonizing step towards his house when he misses a step and feels himself plummet towards impending doom and decides to accept his irreparable fate. But the pain never comes. For a pair of warm, muscular arms have saved him. Ernest looks up at his savior.
The father of the garden band smiles down at him.
"Careful there, Mr. Billionaire. Don't want you croaking on us this soon," he says as he helps Ernest back to his feet and shares the load of his groceries.
"Thank you, young lad." Ernest replies although his male ego is writhing in pain, he respects the jovialness of the younger generation, always eager to help. "Who are you though?"
"I guess you'll find out soon enough," he winks and turns to leave when he pauses, "My name's Leroy Pine btw." he jogs to Ernest's garden where another odd pair of young-ish adults sat on garbage bins, one with a cardboard guitar and another sat with a triangle who sang obnoxiously high notes. Another was on the ground. Flopping.
Ernest is puzzled but decides not to question it before entering his gold encrusted door by swiping his platinum entry card (and iris scan).
He's barely entered his house when a flying pan is thrown at him, which he barely misses. There's loud voices coming from the kitchen, with several utensils being weaponized in the process. Ernest walks to the kitchen where he finds Chad cowering behind the counter while his wife threw several citrus fruits at him.
"Hey! Those are the last of our oranges!" Ernest reprimands before realizing he just brought more than 420 hamburgers weight in oranges. "Actually never mind, I've got more in here."
Karen pauses, a look of horror gracing her botox-laced features. "W-why are you home so soon?" she stammers out. Chad picks up and bites into one of the oranges strewn on the floor, nonchalantly.
Ernest fixes with a look filled with disgust and terror before unpacking the groceries that a young adult man had so kindly helped him with. Karen watched him, dumbfounded. "Aren't you going to ask me who that is?" she gestures in the direction of Chad, who is currently on his way to consuming all the oranges discarded on the floor.
"Does he pee on the floor?" Ernest questions while stocking the fridge with orange juice. "No?" Karen replies at the same time in which Chad responds "Maybe."
"Well, as long as he can pay for his groceries and maybe not eat oranges that disgustingly," Ernest says absentmindedly while making an orange sandwich. He picks a few seeds out of the pulp before sprinkling some Parmesan cheese onto it, and finally takes a huge bite out of it. "he can stay."
Chad fixes him with his own look of mortification which Ernest ignores, but Karen does not. She walks over to him and kicks him in the nuts, leaving him writhing on the floor.
Before she walks away, she notices a piece of paper sticking out of Chad's pocket. She reaches down and tugs it out. It had the paper quality of an exam sheet and had some quite cringe- worthy phrases on it, but Karen was able to understand that the flyer was advertising some kind of band.
But the weirdest part was, the venue appeared to mention.... their own backyard??
"Chad what in the good lord's name is this?" Karen questions in stupefaction. Chad shrugs awkwardly, shoves his (orange-free) hands into his pockets and begins whistling quite terribly.
He then proceeds to walk out of the kitchen and the disappears behind a marble pillar. They hear a loud crash followed by a feeble, "I'm okay!"
Ernest grabs an empty cardboard box and heads down to the basement where he finds Chad squatting next to a mini fridge.
"You can stay here now, if you want, bro." Ernest offers. Chad's eyes widen and he nods in appreciation before getting hit by a cardboard box in the face, "Thank you, bro." he says emotionally.
Ernest smiles at him and says, "So, when's that band concert thing?"
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Karen isn't the greatest mother, but she tries, she really does. She tries to give her love and affection to her children by buying their way through high school and other cool mom things that you probably wouldn't understand.
Why her husband was being so calm about the whole Chad situation was a total mystery to her, but she was positive her children wouldn't react the same way. She decides to wait for them to arrive home from school as she watches her husband get dressed into some really terrible looking T-shirt with a boy/man's face on it.
Karen scrunches her face in disdain. She contemplates hanging herself on their porch before the door swings open and an odd trio walks in. Tiffany gushes over some strange videos she had on her phone, Chelsea had a fucking syringe buried in her arm while clutching a feather pen dripping blood in her other hand. River trailed behind them tiredly, shirtless for whatever reason and holding Chelsea's flopped blood love letter drafts.
Karen wanted to be nice. But the first thing that comes out of her mouth was, "River, go to your room and put on a shirt right now. Do you want the neighbors to think I don't buy you any clothes?"
River groans and nods in reply and turns to jog up the stairs before he notices his father prepping for a concert dressed in something 12 year old girls would be ashamed to even look at.
"Hey Dad, are you going to that concert thing too? In our backyard?" River asks, surprised.
"Yeah! And I've made some merch using our 3D printer!" Ernest replies, "Do you want some too? A shirt would help."
"Help what?" River says as Karen is chastising Chelsea about how it isn't healthy to extract one's own blood in this unsanitary manner and offers to sanitize her syringe while Tiffany effusively rants about the football team's abs or something.
"MOM! River is bringing over a girl for that garden concert!" Tiffany randomly yells. Karen looks exasperated.
"And she's bringing Taylor." River smirks. "Later." he jumps out of window and runs away, the distant screams of Chelsea finding a naked man in a cardboard box in the basement echoing.
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a/n: do you also happen to own Louis Vitto Manhattan Richelieu men's shoes as well? if so, comment down below! like! subscribe! pls let me pay my rent i have a cancer :^)