“My dad does the same thing,” the kid said. “The pranks. The filming. He calls me ‘Puke Face Junior.’”
The abuse was never a fist. It was a performance . Vince taught Kai that love was a setup, that laughter was the sound of someone else’s dignity being flushed away, and that your true feelings—fear, sadness, shame—were just “puke” you had to spray out before the audience turned on you. Puke Face -Facial Abuse Puke Face-
His entertainment empire was a closed loop of abuse. He hired a team of “Gutter Pups”—desperate, young creators—to be his victims. He would make them eat things he wouldn’t touch, then mock their gag reflexes. “Look at her,” he’d sneer, zooming in on a trembling 19-year-old. “She’s got real Puke Face potential. She’s disgusted by her own life. Relatable, right?” “My dad does the same thing,” the kid said
He just sat down across from the kid, slid him a napkin, and said, “Tell me about it. No cameras. No jokes. Just the truth.” He calls me ‘Puke Face Junior
The chat went wild. “Fake!” “He’s lost it.” “Scripted.” Panic set in. Without the vomit, there was no show. Without the show, there was no mask. Without the mask… there was only Kai.
Kai opened his mouth. For a second, his old instinct flared—a joke, a deflection, a fake retch. But it died in his throat. He closed his eyes.