Karkat's Thickness: A Short Story

Decent Essays
Throughout the whole operation, Karkat cringed. There was blood everywhere. On his prongs, on his nutrition block, on the disposable towelettes, and if Crabdad hadn't come to check on him, Karkat was sure that half of his body weight would be lying in a puddle on the floorspace - chunks of digested grubloaf mingling with the acrid scent of acid, vegetation, and the most balanced regurgitation wouldn't hold a candle to that masterpiece. His lusus had quickly scrambled for some water, fought with his hands to get them away from the wounded troll and chittered the glass to his mouth to drink and /breathe/. It took a few moments, gulping in air and eight-hundred percent gracious that this troll could see his moment of weakness, from well, passing out. It wasn't until after the flailing and fighting with his custodian that he realized that he was having a usual panic attack. Not that he hadn't buffed up the 'I've done this before' talk, but, well he had mostly done this for himself. Having another troll's life in his hands was both globe breaking and stressful. When the guy passed out on the block, he might've had an endless narration of 'FUCK' echoing in his pan. When cutting the loose husk-flesh from attached meat, he was on the verge of having…show more content…
His checklist consisted of meats, sustenance (if there were any left for the frosts), medical adhesives, salves, the newest cinematic masterpieces on GrubRay (DeadTool - an excerpt of the complete title - was finally out and hell if he didn't wrap his grubby prongs around it), and clothing for this monstrous bastard that was stupid enough to almost die while FLARPING with wrigglers. He didn't really know the troll's size in outersuits but the moron could deal - it wasn't like he had much room for complaint either
Get Access