“It is coming out!”
The skaters in the street could hear Cuchulainn screaming from his bathroom window.
“It’s supposed to, man!” they shouted back.
They did not know how Cuchulainn idolized them. He had been collecting outfits all week to match their style, he had secretly taught himself to best them at skateboarding, and, as the finishing touch, he had coloured his hair bright blue. It was here things went awry.
“Cuchulainn?” The uncle stood outside the bathroom door. “Are you ok in there?”
Cuchulainn wept and shrieked in fear from the shower.
“What’s going on?” The uncle knocked. “Will you let me in there?”
“It is coming out!” Cuchulainn cried.
“The dye?” said the uncle. “I think that’s normal, Cuchulainn. I told you this was a bad idea.”
“It is in my eyes!”
The skaters' uproarious laughter outside was piercing through Cuchulainn’s screams. “You’re a man now, Cuchulainn!” they cheered.
Suddenly he was silent.
“Cuchulainn?” said the uncle. For a moment he was relieved, but then there was much more screaming. Outside.
Cuchulainn’s naked form, stained and soaked blue, had leapt onto the street from the bathroom window and confronted the skaters mocking him.
“Oh my god!” The uncle ran downstairs to the front door. “Stop, Cuchulainn!”
He was dragging them to the house, one in a suffocating headlock and the other by the hair. “Prepare the cellar, uncle!”
“For god’s sake, let them go! And put some clothes on!”
“Never!” he threw the unconscious one down.
“Help!” pleaded the other.
“I’m calling the cops, Cuchulainn!” said the uncle. “You leave me no choice.”
“Let them come and witness true justice!” Cuchulainn kicked the waking skater into the house before he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.
“I am magnificent!” he said. “I could be Poseidon himself!”
“...yes!” agreed the uncle. “And wouldn’t it be even more magnificent to let these boys go?”
Cuchulainn admired his own visage. “Who?”
The uncle struggled to wake the one on the floor. “Go!” he said to the other. “While he’s still distracted.”
Cuchulainn touched his new, blue face and saw the dye on his hand.
“No!” he cried. “It is coming off!”
“Cuchulainn, I’m worried this boy is seriously hurt.”
“He is supposed to be,” said Cuchulainn. “Call a doctor.”
“We’re going to have to,” said the uncle.
Cuchulainn smiled. “To dye my skin.”