King Of The Goths: Part III

The Boy is agog at my new T-shirt and can’t stop laughing at my claim to be King of the Goths.
‘You’re not a Goth.’
‘Yes I am.’
‘Prove it.’
‘I like the music.’
‘You also like Country and Western. That’s hardly Goth is it?’
‘I like Gothic literature.’
‘But you like other literature too. Bukowski is hardly a Goth!’

I feel I losing the argument to a 16-year-old who is out-logicing me. I reach for my ace card…
‘I’m going to start wearing make-up!’
‘What make-up?’
‘Mascara…’
‘Mascara?’
'Goth Mascara!'

The Missus interjects.
‘He means eyeliner.’

I jump in hoping my mistake has not been spotted.
‘Yes. What she said…’

The Boy laughs.
‘You shouldn’t have told him and let him wear mascara. You’d have had lovely lashes…’
‘I’m King of the Goths. You can’t ridicule me!’

The Missus interjects again.
‘With mascara you’d actually look more Emo. You could be the King of the Emos…’
‘Or the King of the Emus more like. You gangly freak…’ adds the Boy.

I am speechless. The King of the Goths is getting humiliated in his own kingdom. I leave in a regal manner ignoring their taunts…