Title: A Skull's History
Disclaimer: These guys don't belong to me.
Summary: Watched this movie this weekend and got caught up in the character of Ames Levritt, despite the god awful southern accent, and Litten Mandrake.
Rating: PG-13
Ames Jerold Levritt, named for his maternal grandfather, sat in his dark study contemplating his life. He was a wealthy man of privilege, a powerful man when he chose to be. But, a telegram received on the golf course earlier in the day reminded him that there were things he had no power over. So, he sat in a pensive mood, traversing the dusty lanes of memory. His faithful old Golden Retriever, Beau, lay under his desk. Occasionally, during the first hour or so, the dog cast his sad brown eyes upward to study the man. Eventually, determining his master wasn't going anywhere soon; he stretched out on his side and napped.
Born to barely educated parents in mountainous Southwest Virginia, Ames began life in a cabin with no running water. His mother, Lilly, was fourteen when she married twenty-three year old Tom Levritt, who was purportedly from West Virginia. Tom was a handsome man, with sparkling blue eyes and dark curly hair; he quickly won the heart of the prettiest girl in the county. But, his bold, reckless ways got him killed in a mining accident when Ames was three. Well, that was what his mother's childhood best friend had told him. Of course, she told that same tale to the press and any others who came looking into the background of Ames Levritt. It made a nice story, whether it was a truthful account or not. He didn't know.
His mother moved back to live with her mother. She worked part-time at a sewing factory until his grandmother died some four years later. Lilly, hopeful of a better life, sold the tiny family farm and moved to Roanoke. She died of a lung infection, complicated by pneumonia, not quite five years later; she was twenty-seven. He remembered his mother as a frail, sickly woman who looked closer to forty than thirty. He had just a few memories of his grandmother and they had long since faded. Mostly, he remembered the few photographs that had become his inheritance.
Lilly had been a devoted churchgoer, so a couple, who were members of the local congregation, took in Ames. Fred and Janice Hopkins were kind, honest people who never had children of their own. Fred was a taciturn man, who tolerated little nonsense. Janice, plump and cheerful, counterbalanced her husband to provide an enjoyable loving home life.
Being a football coach at the local high school, Fred decided the lanky boy might make a good Quarterback or, a Receiver if he got tall enough. He sat him down after dinner one night, for a little man to man talk. Ames, fearful of some misdeed on his part, squirmed nervously under the elder man's calm scrutiny.
"Ames, you've not been dealt a very good hand in life, so far." Fred quietly began as he trimmed a cigar. "I've been doing some thinkin' about you and your future. Whatever you get in life, you're gonna have to make happen. Do you understand me?"
"Yes sir." He politely answered, although he wasn't really sure he did.
"I realize you're awful young to be thinkin' about the rest of your life." Fred drawled as he lit the cigar. "But, an early start never hurt a fella. Do you have any idea what you want to do?"
"I want to be somebody." Ames adamantly averred. "I don't wanna be some white trash loser."
"Ames, I don't know much 'cept football, but it's been good to me." Fred puffed on his cigar before continuing. "I do know that; sometimes, fellars like yourself, can get a scholarship to play college ball, if they're real good." He cast an eye toward Ames to determine the effect of his words, satisfied they were sinking in, he added. "Could be, it'd give you a chance to make something of yourself. Well, that and good grades."
"You think I could go to college?" Ames asked with genuine amazement. Once his mother left Appalachia, she quickly discovered the value of a good education. Graduating high school was the one thing she drilled into his head, while she lived. The thought that he could go further had not occurred to him.
Muffled growls and yips from Beau broke into his reverie. He watched the dog's paws flex as his legs made slight running movements. "Get that rabbit, Beau." He told the dreaming dog with a gentle smile. He stood, stretched, poured himself a brandy, looked at the time and settled back in his chair. Beau was now quiet and had resumed his peaceful slumber. He sipped his brandy then rubbed his eyes, his hand settled over his mouth and he absently rubbed the scar on the right side of his upper lip. It reminded him of another man to man conversation with Fred.
"Ames, what happened to you?" Fred asked as peered over the Saturday morning paper, noting the swollen split lip, blackened right eye that was nearly swelled shut, and the nasty purple bruise spreading across his right cheek.
"I had a little altercation, last night." Ames fumbled out.
"Are you hurt, anywhere else?" Fred folded the paper and caught Ames' chin in his hand to examine the damage to his face.
"Ribs and stomach hurt a little, and..." Ames trailed off, with a bashful look at Janice.
"Well, let's take a look-see." Fred told him as he led the way to the bathroom. He gently probed the boy's ribs and bruised stomach before asking. "What else?"
"One of'em kicked me, down there." Ames miserably replied.
"Shuck them jeans, son." Fred commanded. Ames gingerly lowered his jeans and boxers.
"Damn!" Fred exclaimed after examining his injured genitals. "What did you do?"
"Becca Thompson, after the game." Ames answered. Becca was the head cheerleader.
"Well, I hope you nailed her." Fred responded. The sheepish grin that lit the boy's face confirmed his utterance. "Christ, Ames! Is it, the first time you, ... did that?"
"Yes sir." Ames honestly replied.
"Did you use any...protection?" Fred asked. The surprised look on the boy's face told him the answer. "Look, I'm gonna call Doc Chilton, have him take a look at you. Ames, you're a fine young man and I know you won the football game last night, and it was you're first time to be the hero. Young women love the hero and they naturally want to screw'em. Lord knows, I had my share; but you have to use some protection. Promise me, you won't be with another girl until I can get out of town and get you some rubbers. You wear'em, understand? You get some girl in the family way and you won't be goin' to college or nuthin'." Fred ran a hand over his face then added. "And, you hide'em; but good, ya hear me, it would break Janice's heart to find out you've been fornicatin'." Ames was shocked; not only, at the sheer volume of words Fred had just uttered; but also, at the fact that he could get a girl pregnant and mess his whole life up.
It was rare for a sophomore to be the starting Quarterback, but Ames was just that. He played with a broken rib for the rest of that season and beat out the senior, who had been the starter, the next year. He didn't use the condoms Fred acquired for him until his senior year. Then, he wisely and safely, chose a girl who wouldn't speak of it later on, no more socialites for him.
"Yes." He answered the soft knock at the study door.
"Mr. Ames, I'm leaving now. I put a plate in the refrigerator for you and some salad in a bowl on the side." Clara, the housekeeper, informed him.
"Thank you, Clara." Ames responded.
Disclaimer: These guys don't belong to me.
Summary: Watched this movie this weekend and got caught up in the character of Ames Levritt, despite the god awful southern accent, and Litten Mandrake.
Rating: PG-13
Ames Jerold Levritt, named for his maternal grandfather, sat in his dark study contemplating his life. He was a wealthy man of privilege, a powerful man when he chose to be. But, a telegram received on the golf course earlier in the day reminded him that there were things he had no power over. So, he sat in a pensive mood, traversing the dusty lanes of memory. His faithful old Golden Retriever, Beau, lay under his desk. Occasionally, during the first hour or so, the dog cast his sad brown eyes upward to study the man. Eventually, determining his master wasn't going anywhere soon; he stretched out on his side and napped.
Born to barely educated parents in mountainous Southwest Virginia, Ames began life in a cabin with no running water. His mother, Lilly, was fourteen when she married twenty-three year old Tom Levritt, who was purportedly from West Virginia. Tom was a handsome man, with sparkling blue eyes and dark curly hair; he quickly won the heart of the prettiest girl in the county. But, his bold, reckless ways got him killed in a mining accident when Ames was three. Well, that was what his mother's childhood best friend had told him. Of course, she told that same tale to the press and any others who came looking into the background of Ames Levritt. It made a nice story, whether it was a truthful account or not. He didn't know.
His mother moved back to live with her mother. She worked part-time at a sewing factory until his grandmother died some four years later. Lilly, hopeful of a better life, sold the tiny family farm and moved to Roanoke. She died of a lung infection, complicated by pneumonia, not quite five years later; she was twenty-seven. He remembered his mother as a frail, sickly woman who looked closer to forty than thirty. He had just a few memories of his grandmother and they had long since faded. Mostly, he remembered the few photographs that had become his inheritance.
Lilly had been a devoted churchgoer, so a couple, who were members of the local congregation, took in Ames. Fred and Janice Hopkins were kind, honest people who never had children of their own. Fred was a taciturn man, who tolerated little nonsense. Janice, plump and cheerful, counterbalanced her husband to provide an enjoyable loving home life.
Being a football coach at the local high school, Fred decided the lanky boy might make a good Quarterback or, a Receiver if he got tall enough. He sat him down after dinner one night, for a little man to man talk. Ames, fearful of some misdeed on his part, squirmed nervously under the elder man's calm scrutiny.
"Ames, you've not been dealt a very good hand in life, so far." Fred quietly began as he trimmed a cigar. "I've been doing some thinkin' about you and your future. Whatever you get in life, you're gonna have to make happen. Do you understand me?"
"Yes sir." He politely answered, although he wasn't really sure he did.
"I realize you're awful young to be thinkin' about the rest of your life." Fred drawled as he lit the cigar. "But, an early start never hurt a fella. Do you have any idea what you want to do?"
"I want to be somebody." Ames adamantly averred. "I don't wanna be some white trash loser."
"Ames, I don't know much 'cept football, but it's been good to me." Fred puffed on his cigar before continuing. "I do know that; sometimes, fellars like yourself, can get a scholarship to play college ball, if they're real good." He cast an eye toward Ames to determine the effect of his words, satisfied they were sinking in, he added. "Could be, it'd give you a chance to make something of yourself. Well, that and good grades."
"You think I could go to college?" Ames asked with genuine amazement. Once his mother left Appalachia, she quickly discovered the value of a good education. Graduating high school was the one thing she drilled into his head, while she lived. The thought that he could go further had not occurred to him.
Muffled growls and yips from Beau broke into his reverie. He watched the dog's paws flex as his legs made slight running movements. "Get that rabbit, Beau." He told the dreaming dog with a gentle smile. He stood, stretched, poured himself a brandy, looked at the time and settled back in his chair. Beau was now quiet and had resumed his peaceful slumber. He sipped his brandy then rubbed his eyes, his hand settled over his mouth and he absently rubbed the scar on the right side of his upper lip. It reminded him of another man to man conversation with Fred.
"Ames, what happened to you?" Fred asked as peered over the Saturday morning paper, noting the swollen split lip, blackened right eye that was nearly swelled shut, and the nasty purple bruise spreading across his right cheek.
"I had a little altercation, last night." Ames fumbled out.
"Are you hurt, anywhere else?" Fred folded the paper and caught Ames' chin in his hand to examine the damage to his face.
"Ribs and stomach hurt a little, and..." Ames trailed off, with a bashful look at Janice.
"Well, let's take a look-see." Fred told him as he led the way to the bathroom. He gently probed the boy's ribs and bruised stomach before asking. "What else?"
"One of'em kicked me, down there." Ames miserably replied.
"Shuck them jeans, son." Fred commanded. Ames gingerly lowered his jeans and boxers.
"Damn!" Fred exclaimed after examining his injured genitals. "What did you do?"
"Becca Thompson, after the game." Ames answered. Becca was the head cheerleader.
"Well, I hope you nailed her." Fred responded. The sheepish grin that lit the boy's face confirmed his utterance. "Christ, Ames! Is it, the first time you, ... did that?"
"Yes sir." Ames honestly replied.
"Did you use any...protection?" Fred asked. The surprised look on the boy's face told him the answer. "Look, I'm gonna call Doc Chilton, have him take a look at you. Ames, you're a fine young man and I know you won the football game last night, and it was you're first time to be the hero. Young women love the hero and they naturally want to screw'em. Lord knows, I had my share; but you have to use some protection. Promise me, you won't be with another girl until I can get out of town and get you some rubbers. You wear'em, understand? You get some girl in the family way and you won't be goin' to college or nuthin'." Fred ran a hand over his face then added. "And, you hide'em; but good, ya hear me, it would break Janice's heart to find out you've been fornicatin'." Ames was shocked; not only, at the sheer volume of words Fred had just uttered; but also, at the fact that he could get a girl pregnant and mess his whole life up.
It was rare for a sophomore to be the starting Quarterback, but Ames was just that. He played with a broken rib for the rest of that season and beat out the senior, who had been the starter, the next year. He didn't use the condoms Fred acquired for him until his senior year. Then, he wisely and safely, chose a girl who wouldn't speak of it later on, no more socialites for him.
"Yes." He answered the soft knock at the study door.
"Mr. Ames, I'm leaving now. I put a plate in the refrigerator for you and some salad in a bowl on the side." Clara, the housekeeper, informed him.
"Thank you, Clara." Ames responded.