#clayton middleinitial puppington | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tinyattack09 · 8 months ago

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ALLL MORAL OREL FANS

you wanna see a fix where Clay is confronted by literal god???

Here it is!!!

Beseech

After the Danielle incident and the hunting tragedy, Clay Puppington receded to his study most of the time. Making no attempt to change, he would waste his days drinking and having an affair with both Censordoll and Stopframe. But, we all know that the lord giveth, and the lord taketh away.

“Clayton Middleinitial Puppington!”

“G-…God!?”

“It is I, the Heavenly Father.” His voice shook the room, and boomed into his body.

“Wha-…Why have you visited me, Lord?” Clay said, clearly in a daze.

“You have a lesson to learn, Clayton. You give your own

lessons and stories while convoluting their meaning to fit your way of destructive, abusive life. It is time that you learn, mortal. The Lord’s mercy only reaches you if it remains pure.”

A sword of pure light appeared. As the Lord held it, the power

changed its hue.

“Lord, what are you doing!?” Clay stepped back. He knew that

he was in trouble, and he couldn’t bribe this one to go away. The sword was raised, and all the light in the room was focused only on Clay.

“What is necessary to keep my world pure.”

“Why…?!”

"Why!? Pathetic. Unable to realize thy faults. Let us see your life, and what it really was."

Everything fades. There is a young boy holding a gun. It shakes in his hands as he struggles to bear such a deadly tool.

"It's a tradition in the Puppington family that the head of the household would pass off this gun to the eldest son."

"Wow, dad… But I don't think I could kill an animal. That seems too mean."

"Son, nature was made to be hunted. We get to 'play god.'"

“Play God?? Golly Pops… that doesn’t sound very right…

You know the sixty-third commandment! ‘Thou shalt never hold a gun without anything to shoot at!’ And we have to follow God’s rules!”

The memory switches to a young Puppington, holding that

same gun, while ketchup was spewed all over the child’s body.

“Clay! Clay! Clayton! Open your fucking eyes!” Clay’s body was shook violently.

“What?? I didn’t do anything!” Clay springs back to life, having

pretended he was dead. His mother then cried out

“Oh thank the heavens! Lord, thank you-“ She froze in the

middle of her sentence. She fell to the floor, her heart unresponsive.

“Mom!” Clay ran to his now dead mother, understanding what he did.

“Get back!” Clay’s father pushed him back, slamming him to a wall. No CPR could be done, and Amanda Puppington was declared dead. The memory fades to black.

Clay was frozen.

“I-… I was so young, Father! I didn’t know what I was doing! I was only six years old!”

“Then let us watch something more… recent, yes?” The memory flashes to the wilderness. Clay is an adult, and stands there with his twelve year-old son, Orel.

“Dad… I think you might be *too* drunk.”

“I… Let me tell you something, Orel! Drunk is nature.”

“I’m not really comfortable hunting with you, Dad.” Orel is tense, gripping to the log he’s sitting on.

“You aren’t comfortable hunting with me? Ever tried hunting with you!?” Clay gulps down his liquor like it’s the last bottle of water in the desert.

“Y’know kid, your cup is always half empty. Look at me. You should be more like your old man and look on the blight side of life.”

“B-Blight?” Orel said, shivering from his fear.

“No, I didn’t say ‘bright,’" Clay interrupted, "I said blight. My life is sunny and blight. ‘Bright’ means the opposite — it means sudden withering death. And that’s… not… Oh, who am I kidding, my life is full of bright…”

“Dad..?” Orel replied, terrified that his father would lose composure.

“Oh, God.”

“What’s happening, Dad!?” Orel cried.

"Oh, I hate myself…”

He runs out of liquor in the bottle. He stares at his reflection, silently hoping that it would be the last time he’d have to see it.

“Why do you quit working on me!?!”

Everything goes silent. No birds chirping, no crickets, no owls in the night.

“She always fools me, Orel. ‘I’ll make things better dear! Drink me! Put me inside of you, I’m great!’ And then she chokes me just like every other whore out there!! They’re all worthless, kid! Every woman. Don’t let ‘em get ya! All of them just wanna get ya! They just grab you and pull you into ‘em! And then you’re forced to stay in, pull out. Stay in, and pull out!! And then they cut ya! And they grip ya by the… right where it counts! And then they start SQUEEZING things out! Things that are like weights around your head! You’re stuck there for the rest of your life, with NOWHERE to go and NO ONE to be!!! AAAAGH!!!”

The scene faded out.

"What's so bad about that?! It's useful advice!" Clay exclaimed, deluded by his own prejudice.

"Just wait, mortal."

The scene reappeared. It opens to clay and Orel sitting across from each other, with clay in a drunken stupor. Orel is now as far away from Clay as he can be while still on a log.

"It's time you became a man. Where's my rifle!?" Clay yells, searching for it/

"Dad, I don't think-"

"There it is! No mistakes, no accidents, no fuck-ups, no blunders."

"Dad! W-What are you doing?!"

"Somethin' important!!"

A single, lone spark flew. Following it was an ear-splitting bang. No noise could be heard after that, other than the ringing going through both of their ears.

"D-...Dad…"

The scene fades for the final time.

Clay was frozen.

"Do you realize thy fault now? Are you able to comprehend the weight of your sin?! Do you finally see that your actions have consequences, Puppington!?" The ethereal voice boomed. Its volume was so loud that Clay was shaken back into reality.

Clay was speechless. Instead of pleading for his case, he simply stood there thinking. He didn't need to speak, for his god could tell exactly what he was thinking.

I couldn't have done that. But I did. How? Why? What do I do!? What do I do?!

But then a thought hit him.

Just give up. You've been so dedicated to your Lord your entire life. Give everything to Him.

"Please…" Clay said, hopeless and weak. Clay then fell to his knees. He didn't dare to raise his head, or so much as stand up.

"Please what?" The deity spoke. Tears began to roll down Clay's cheeks as he remained there kneeling before his God.

"Please… Have mercy," he muttered. He was too weak to raise his voice.

"Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me. I'm weak without you, God."

"You beseech for something you could not give to your own, Clayton. The kingdom of heaven does not allow those like you."

The sword of light raised up once more, as Clay said his final vow.

"I'm sorry, Orel."

A scream rang out. The scream of a weak, hopeless, self-destructive, and miserable young boy. The light disappeared, and all that was left was a soul, going to neither heaven nor hell. The soul was trapped in the mortal world, and had a chain around its neck.

Suddenly, Orel walked into the study. As he stepped further, something came into view.

The end of a chain that led directly to his neck.

RB AND LIKE I SPENT SO MUCH TKMD ON THIS OKAY BYE

#moral orel #clay puppington #bloberta hymentact #shapey puppington #orel puppington #short story #my fic

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