So, you saw your mom. You said "Hi", like you always do; you're a pretty chill little guy. She told you that she had some very important news. You asked her "What?", thinking that her and your dad might be getting back together, after a passionate discussion about how people who leave their pets in hot cars are the devil. Which they are. ... Those fuckers.
She said that she has become a necromancer. At first, you thought that that has something to do with digging up and having sex with dead people. Then you realize it's a wizard, like in a Final Fantasy game or something. You breathed a sigh of relief. Then you asked her, "In what game?".
She grinned and cheekily responded "No game. This is real life, Arthur."
Immediately, you asked yourself the obvious question: what should you do? Odds are your mom wasn't going to set you on fire or anything, especially since she hated it when people left living things out in the heat. ... Which I already mentioned before. You tried calling the police, but the automated voice message system told you to call back during business hours.
You examined your watch. It was 5:01 PM. ... Son of a bitch.
Luckily, your mom thought you were just phoning one of your 'little' friends to inform him or her of her new necromancing skills. You asked your mom why she decided to learn witchcraft. She responded with "Whatever do you mean?". You paused, raised an eyebrow, and boldly stated "That's what a necromancer is. You're a fucking wizard now." She told you to watch your language, and you, rightfully, apologized.
She elaborated to you that some really bad, and also some very confused, people are, falsely, claiming that she had joined an underground, terroristic group. Apparently, they're suggesting that she was going to cause terror all over the first world in return for what she supposedly considers to be "genocide, in the form of paying tax dollars for bombs." You offered your opinion on those people's conclusions: that not everyone who pays taxes wants to bomb people, and if they do, it's for complex reasons of freedom and oppression, whether it's really justified or not. She told you that she knows, but they don't know 'fucking shit.' You demanded that she apologize for cussing, but she said that it was within her right... because she's "your mother, after all."
Well, whatever. Mother knows best...
She microwaved you a hot dog and handed you a glass of ice cold lemonade. She said that her and your father were taking a vacation to the Pentagon (even though it was only about 5 miles away), that they wouldn't be back for a couple days, and that your sister, Judy, would be over in a few minutes. She then left you with a small package, and told you that it was very important that you not open it, or she would be very, very disappointed. Apparently, it was a birthday present for Judy, from NASA. She's really into science, so that much made sense. Still, you scarfed down the hot dog nervously, as you are were now stressed out and needed to use food as a coping mechanism.
Approximately half an hour later... it was your dad who stopped by. He'd grown a handlebar mustache, and greeted you with a loud, alcohol-induced belch. He drunkenly informed you that he's in on you and your mom's secret. Your mother walked in and corrected him: it was not meant to be secret from him, because they are now back together even though he left your family years ago to fight some people, or something. They both laughed loudly and obnoxiously--your mom was also drunk, though you didn't recognize it at the time--and they whispered some words that you couldn't make out. They laughed a little more subtly, and then, they were off, in your dad's convertible.
At this point, you were bothered. A little bit scared, too. You thought things over as if you were in an old school computer game. There was a package in your inventory, and you couldn't leave the house because you were 8 years old and if your mother found out then you'd be toast; literally, if she actually was a necromancer. You shrugged and watched reruns of the Magic School Bus. Afterwards, you operated as if you were in a Japanese RPG. HP +5; you no longer felt tired or scared, because you'd distracted yourself with quality, PBS Kids inspired entertainment.
That feeling of complacence was not meant to last.
Suddenly, a news story scrolled onto the screen. There was a lot of smoke, and people were crying or even mutilated. And then-- your mother and father were on the screen! They both looked stable enough, but they were chained up next to a couple of really pissed off looking police officers. It didn't make any sense to you. You vaguely remembered your mother saying something about bad people earlier, but you forgot why, or in what context. "Open the package, son! It'll explain everything! This isn't the way things were supposed to happen!", your father screamed. He looked serious this time. It was like he never drank any alcohol at all.
The only package you could think of was the one your mother explicitly told you not to open. Thus, you didn't know what your father was talking about. Perhaps there was one meant for you, too? You don't know what it all meant. You were only 8 years old.
You waited and waited for Judy to come, but she never did. As for why, you could only speculate. Within minutes, important-looking strangers slammed open your door, and explained to you that your mother and father would not be coming back. They took you off to the orphanage. As for the package, one of those serious-looking people must have taken it; you never saw it again.
Inside of it was the truth.