In a Lavender Room With His Mom by milky =###########(ah, you know the rest)
"Are you sanitary, son?" asked his mom.
Hard to believe that such a simple question could cause so much turmoil. His mom sat with her tea folded across her lap and gazed at him inquisitively.
He glanced around the extremely old-fashioned lavender sitting room, his eyes nervously focussing in on each object in a feeble attempt to kickstart his mind, but it was not to be. He opened his mouth in the vague hope that his mouth and voicebox would figure something out. After a few minutes, he realized he was in this one alone.
"Son? Are you sanitary?" his mom repeated.
He decided to play a waiting game. His mom had a good 22 years on him, and he was in better health. If it came down to a contest of who's-gonna-die-first, he'd win.
He leaned back on the antique lavender sofa and put his arms up on the back of the sofa. He gave his mom a sort of wry smile, and proceeded to glance around the room, smirking at each object he disapproved of. 'Lavender,' he thought, 'is dumb.' It felt good to condemn.
"Are you SANITARY?" his mom repeated, with a finalistic tone. Her voice and tone clearly conveyed that this was his last chance.
It was a chance he didn't care to take. He swallowed her whole and slammed the door behind him.