| Like Father Like Son | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 23 2010, 06:00 PM (90 Views) | |
| Justin | Apr 23 2010, 06:00 PM Post #1 |
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Mr. International
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The half-empty bottle of Patron sits on the dresser staring at an out of control Roscoe Shame. The remnants of the top half of the bottle have long settled at the depths of his liver. The blood-shot eyes are the consequence of the tequila binge. In most cases of binge drinking there is some kind of damage done and this is no exception. The bed was the unfortunate recipient of a severe thrashing. Both the headboard and footboard have been broken in half with the metal rails once holding them together now deformed. Not even the pillow was able to escape the wrath of Roscoe. The feather filling is spread out all over the floor. Control yourself Roscoe. Drinking and demolishing shit is not the answer. Get your act together. You are not like your father! The self soothing technique does not work. The next instance Roscoe’s knuckles turn white because he grips the bottle of Patron so tight. Bringing the bottle to his lips the warm sensation of the alcohol flows down his throat and into his stomach and liver. Slamming the bottle back down on the dresser, a sense of satisfaction settles in his body. First it was Bond, and then this past week it was Christopher St. James. That is two in a row. I have never lost anything twice in a row before. How can this be? I am turning into my father. Reaching into his top drawer Roscoe pulls out a three ring binder that has obviously exceeded its capacity a long time ago. Sitting down on the mattress that now rests on the floor Roscoe places the binder in his lap and opens it. A few loose items on top slide out onto the floor, but Roscoe pays no attention. Instead his attention is fixed on an article about half way through the binder. Despite the mass that sits atop of it, he knows the exact position of the article and turns right to it. The newspaper article is fitted perfectly into a plastic sleeve and hasn’t been touched in years. Interrupting years of peace and solitude, Roscoe pulls the article out of the sleeve and grips the sides delicately with his hands. FATHER OF KALAMAZOO HIGH QB CHARGED WITH MURDER The big bold letters across the front page of the Kalamazoo Journal & Gazette changed Roscoe Shame’s life forever. The day was August thirtieth two thousand and one. His father did not come home that night, but that was nothing new because he often was out until the wee hours of the morning laying up drunk somewhere. His mother had long ago stopped caring about the man and Roscoe followed in her footsteps. What was the point of caring? His father never did anything for him or his mom. He never even went to watch his son play football and the bad thing about it is his father taught him how to play. So the fact that his father did not come home that night didn’t bother him or his mother. His father had been picked up by the police around ten thirty at night based on a tip they had received. After being booked his father did not bother to call and let them know what happened because he knew they no longer cared for him. When Roscoe picked up the paper the next morning from the driveway his life changed forever. That was the day Roscoe Shame decided he would do everything in his power not to become like his father. The only problem with this is in most cases he has taken the same road his father traveled. He made it big in high school creating a bright future for himself only to mess that up. Getting Jessica pregnant at an early age is the same thing his father did to the woman he was with before he married Roscoe’s mother. Despite being able to attend college for free on scholarship he squandered his life for the next seven years doing nothing but mooching……just like his father did. No matter how hard he tried not to follow in his father’s footsteps, it was like he was born to be just like his father. You fucking piece of shit! Looking down at the article, Roscoe’s eyes bore into the picture of his father. The son is a spitting image of the father and for this Roscoe will forever hate himself. Despite being something he cannot control, he despises himself when looking in the mirror. Hatred and disgust start to brew and before long the newspaper article is in a million pieces in Roscoe’s lap. Tears start to flow down the man’s face. Look at myself! I am following down the same path as my father. A fucking loser. What in the hell happened to me? I become a champion and then I can’t seem to win. Sounds just like my father! No way can this be happening to me! I won’t let it! The years of living in his father’s footsteps has taken a toll on the man who is affectionately known for his catchphrase, “SHAME TIME!!” However the buck stops now. Seconds later the bottle of tequila is thrown against the wall and shatters into pieces on the other side of the room. The aroma quickly fills the small room, but Roscoe doesn’t care. His rage is in full control now as he picks his dresser up with relative easy and slams down on its side. The impact knocks the drawers out causing his clothes to litter the floor. The hero. You call yourself the fucking hero. Talon I feel bad for you. I hate to break your little heart but there is no such thing as a hero. This world is filled with nothing but winners and losers with the ladder winning the popularity contest. Talon, I do not envy you. Why you ask? Because there is something that I have realized today that is has scared the living shit out of me. I have figured out that at the rate I am going I will be just like my father very soon, but I can’t and won’t let that happen. So unfortunately for you my hatred and disgust for the man that created me will be your worst nightmare. |
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12:54 AM Jul 11