I FEEL SO OUT OF TOUCH WITH MY SON. I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT KIND OF THINGS HE LIKES, OR WHAT HIS INTERESTS ARE. I’LL JUST TAKE A QUICK PEEK AT HIS INTERNET SEARCH HISTORY AND-

OH.

OH MY.

… I’VE MADE A HUGE MISTAKE.

THANK YOU, CAROL, FOR THAT RIVETING LOOK AT GANG VIOLENCE IN PRE-K SCHOOLING. CERTAINLY A RISING CONCERN. WE TAKE YOU NOW TO CHRIS FINLEY, REPORTING LIVE FROM DEEP INSIDE A GAY DISCOTHEQUE IN ONE OF THE CITY’S MANY LIBERAL NEIGHBORHOODS. CHRIS?

THANK YOU SHEILA.

WELL, IT’S PRETTY MUCH EXACTLY HOW I ALWAYS PICTURED IT.

I GUESS I SHOULDN’T MAKE SUCH A BIG DEAL ABOUT TURNING THIRTY.

AFTER ALL, WHEN MITT ROMNEY WAS THIRTY THE MORMON FAITH DIDN’T ALLOW BLACK PEOPLE TO BECOME PRIESTS OR ENTER THE SACRED TEMPLE BECAUSE NEGRO SKIN WAS THE MARK OF CAIN AND ALL BLACK PEOPLE WERE CURSED BY GOD, AND HE WAS STILL YOUNG AND SILLY ENOUGH TO THINK THAT KIND OF BLATANT NONSENSICAL RACIST BULLSHIT WAS TOTALLY OKAY.

IT’S PROBABLY ONLY IN YOUR FORTIES THAT YOU START TO USE YOUR BRAIN AND STUFF. I STILL HAVE TIME.

WELL NOW, THAT WAS QUITE A TUMBLE. AND LOOK AT THE WAY YOUR LEGS ARE BENT. YOU MUST BE IN A GREAT DEAL OF PAIN. 

I’D CALL 911 BUT THE PHONE’S ON THE TABLE NEXT TO THE COUCH AND WE ALL KNOW HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT ME CLIMBING UP ON THE COUCH. 

YOU’VE MADE YOUR OPINIONS ON THAT MATTER QUITE CLEAR, WITH THE SHOUTING AND THE NEWSPAPER ACROSS THE NOSE AND ALL. 

YES SIR, I KNOW BETTER THAN TO CLIMB ON THAT COUCH. 

OH WELL. HOPE EVERYTHING WORKS OUT FOR YOU. I’M OFF TO THE PARK.

THE COLD WIND PAUSES AT THE LIP OF THE TRENCH BEFORE DESCENDING IN A RUSH, SEEKING OUR HEARTS, OUR LUNGS, OUR VERY HOPE. I PUSH THROUGH IT, RISKING EVERYTHING, TO SURVEY THE KILLING FIELDS. OVER THE POCKMARKED SOIL AND THE GNARLED STUMPS OF TREES AND FELLOW SOLDIERS I STARE AT A SEA OF SILVER GRASS, IMPERVIOUS TO THE WINDS, GLINTING IN THE CLOUD-CHOKED SUNLIGHT. HOW MANY BAYONETS? HUNDREDS? THOUSANDS? EACH BLADE GREEDY AND SHARP, HUNGRY FOR BLOOD AND VICTORY. HOW MANY OF US SHALL WRITHE ON THOSE SLIM DAGGERS? HOW RED WILL THE SOIL RUN?

IT WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS.

WE WERE NOT SUPPOSED TO SHIVER IN FEAR, BEREFT OF PRIDE AND PURPOSE, SEEKING ONLY SURVIVAL, OR RESPITE.

BOBBY, WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO? DID THE MAILMAN COME YET OR NOT?

AS IF IN A DREAM, I HEAR MY MOTHER’S VOICE. SHRILL AND NAGGING, YET SOMEHOW AGLOW WITH ALL THE WARMTH AND COMFORTS OF A HOME I MAY NEVER AGAIN SEE.

BOBBY, SERIOUSLY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? IF THE MAIL’S HERE GO GET IT PLEASE.

HEY SAM. HOW WAS YOUR DATE LAST NIGHT? GOOD?

AT FIRST I THOUGHT SO, BUT NO. I MEAN, IT WASN’T TERRIBLE, BUT …

NO SPARK?

NO, THAT’S NOT IT. I WAS REALLY LOOKING FORWARD TO SEEING HER. SHE’S REALLY PRETTY. BEAUTIFUL, HONESTLY. IT’S JUST …

WHAT?

ON THE WAY HOME I REALIZED … I DON’T KNOW … IT WAS LIKE THE WHOLE TIME SHE WAS TRYING TO BE ALL DEEP AND MYSTERIOUS, OR MAYBE ACT REALLY INTELLIGENT, ONLY SHE WASN’T. SHE WAS ACTUALLY KIND OF DUMB. JUST FRUSTRATINGLY DUMB.

AH, A PROMETHEUS. SORRY TO HEAR THAT. WE’VE ALL BEEN THERE, MATE.

OH MY GOD, THAT’S SUCH A CUTE PURSE!

WHERE DID YOU GET IT?

SILENCE, PEASANTS! YOUR KING SPEAKS!

…

MUCH BETTER. THANK YOU. I’LL TRY TO KEEP THIS BRIEF. I JUST WANTED EVERYONE TO KNOW I’VE HIRED A NEW STYLIST, AND I’M REALLY LOOKING FORWARD TO SPORTING SOME MORE COURTLY PLUMAGE THIS YEAR. DON’T WORRY, I STILL PLAN ON IGNORING YOUR PATHETIC REQUESTS FOR FOOD AND FAIR WAGES, AS WELL AS LEVYING EVER MORE UNBEARABLE TAXES ON YOUR BASIC LIVING NECESSITIES, BUT FROM NOW ON I WILL BE DOING IT FABULOUSLY, IN ALL THE LATEST FASHIONS.

THAT’S ALL. YOU MAY NOW RETURN TO YOUR TOIL AND SUFFERING. THANKS SO MUCH FOR YOUR TIME.

I HARDLY THINK I NEED TO EXPLAIN MY METICULOUSLY CURATED AND PATHOLOGICALLY THOROUGH GILMORE GIRLS FAN WEBSITE TO A PHILISTINE LIKE YOU.

YOU THINK ALCOHOL’S A JOKE? YOU THINK IT’S JUST SOMETHING TO DO ON THE WEEKENDS? WELL IT ISN’T! YOU MARK MY WORDS!

I COULD HAVE BEEN ANYTHING, YOU KNOW? PRESIDENT, MAYBE. BUT I WAS ARROGANT, LIKE YOU. I THOUGHT I WAS IN CONTROL. I THOUGHT I’D HAVE A BOTTLE OR TWO OF BOONE’S FARM.

I WOKE UP IN ATLANTA, COVERED IN BLOOD! I HAVE TATTOOS IN PLACES I CAN’T REACH! I PUT OUT TWO SUCCESSFUL RAP MIXTAPES I DON’T REMEMBER MAKING! HALF OF MY TEETH ARE FAKE! WHERE ARE THE ORIGINAL TEETH? I DON’T KNOW!

YOU PUT DOWN THAT PINK POISON WHILE THERE’S STILL TIME, YOU HEAR ME? IT’S MISTAKE JUICE! IT’S THE DEVIL IN A BOTTLE!

I’LL BE RIGHT BACK. I’M JUST GOING TO GO GRAB MY BIG BAG OF WALNUTS.

For what?

WELL, NOW THAT I FOUND SOMETHING TO CRACK THEM WITH I THOUGHT I MIGHT EAT THEM.

LOOKING GOOD, KEVIN! SUPER REBELLIOUS!

SHUT UP, MOM. I’M NOT FALLING FOR ANOTHER ONE OF YOUR REVERSE PSYCHOLOGY HEAD GAMES.

THAT RAT TAIL IS SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK! EVERYBODY, COME LOOK AT HOW COUNTERCULTURE KEVIN IS!

YOU DON’T LIKE IT SO STOP PRETENDING.

YES, I DO! I THINK I MIGHT GROW ONE TOO! HEY, YOU WANT TO GO GET SOME TATTOOS AFTER SCHOOL?

YOU ARE THE ABSOLUTE WORST.

I COULD WRITE A TERRIBLE CONTEMPORARY ADULT EROTIC FICTION NOVEL IN THE TIME IT TAKES FOR THIS NAIL POLISH TO DRY.

NOT WITH WET NAILS, OBVIOUSLY, BUT YOU GET WHAT I’M SAYING.

FUCK IT. I GIVE UP.

SOMEONE CALL INTO WORK FOR ME. BETWEEN THE HANGOVER AND THE HUMIDITY I’M BASICALLY USELESS.