Clay thought the world would be easy as he blissfully graduated high school. His father cared little for him, if only because Angela's death was on Clay's shoulders. Forming thoughts was hard for clay, although he viewed himself
somewhat of a God send. His talents were just not useful in the world. He had control of the entire city and yet his family is what it all bogged down to. The state of the family transcends to the over all working of the whole town. He
wasn't sure of himself, he never really had a grip of who he was. A Prince? A black sheep among black sheep? Was I really anything at all? Was Clay supposed to crumble and perhaps kill his only son? So that FCC may gain utmost control
over the land of Moralton and beyond? The mess that was clay's mind began to fester. As I observe this man I lose myself as well. I can't picture my life without him. Clay is what I want. But Clay, Clay M. Puppington himself isn't
something I could've imagined. I guess I'll start this as sort of a journal but there will be only one page. His wife was the tip of the iceberg, the woman didn't love him, neither did he. I figured squeezing in wouldn't be a problem. I
don't know what I saw in this poor excuse for a man. He told me of his fantasies, his interests, and his disgusting sexual background. I pretended to be excited by his strange and queer hobbies. I smiled and played along. He was a most
interesting person. Like no one was this kind, deceitful, rage filled, hopeless romantic. Sometimes he'd be generous enough to buy me a drink I thought nothing of it at the time but was it just to get in my pants or was he really going for
a kind gesture. I guess I didn't care at the moment either. I wanted to be used and I wanted to use him. Maybe I was selfish at times. That was it. He tried to seduce me over a cup of tea I offered, of course he poured gin in his tea. I
playfully accepted his clumsy approach. Afterall it was all in good fun wasn't it? My heart sinks as I remember he is just not the person I should idolize like a God. I look to my walls covered in photographs of him. He's a monster. Much
more than this bear could ever be. Its a wonderful bear too. It interesting that a man can be so beautiful but also be a benevolent goblin. He is a devil, but he thinks he knows everything. Its quite a cliche that I happen to be
attracted to a man so beautiful is actually a tyrant, no excuse me a tyrant rules people. Clay only rules himself he isn't a tyrant, he's more like a creature in the woods you'd find or a worker bee, busy being himself. A gross, dramatic,
hurtful, bee. While other bees do what they should do this clay bee is a loser, he thinks he has it all figured out, he keeps it all to himself and his entire life is a sham. An elaborate, fucked up, stage play. A God damned joke. and he
is to be blamed. I only came in at his three fourths of his life so I leave the other factors to be from his over bearing mother, his idealist father, and his bitch of a wife. That's Clay Puppington. Trash, trash that has a swanky study
for some reason and if it was any other town he'd be on the streets begging for change. Pathetic. It was too late.
Then I looked to his son, Orel. Orel who happened to share that last name, "Puppington". But he seemed no more Puppington then I was Buddhist for God's sake. After looking at everyone whom I knew in town I saw only that beautiful
despicable face that was Clay...And yet his son appeared to be well...Himself? A 12 year old boy, his eyes, round. His head shape, round. Well everything about him seemed completely different even though in hind sight he was pretty much
a combination of appearance from his mother and...Clay... His innocence, his nativity, his over all yearning to understand. It was nothing like Clay. Or perhaps he was like Clay, emphasis on "was" like Clay but a completely different
person. Never did I look at the boy and think anything more than "he is a tool to get me closer to him..." but something all of the sudden was different. I looked at that boy like a sperate entity. He was Orel Puppington. A boy who was
my student who happened to be the son of my object of obsession. I couldn't deny his curiousity. He questioned why I admired his father...It was then when even I was flabbergasted. For once in my life I questioned it to myself. I didn't
want to shock the boy and simply say "Your father's looks turned me on." at this point I didn't even want to think of shattering that boy's psyche anymore than it already was.
In the end, I spent the day with the tyke. Got to know him, hanged out with him. He was a saint of a person. A wonderful human being I couldn't dare dream of corrupting, not even with one little swear word. He was different than everyone
in Moralton. Almost alien like. God, and Satan forgive me but Christ like...How could a boy born to two misfit sinners be such a prodigy when it came to doing what was inherently "right"? It hurt my mind to think about it. I was simply
out of answers. And I wasted nearly 13 years of my life investing in attempting to somehow "destroy" the family even more than it was. Although I didn't see it was out right destroying I simply thought I might help in the end...But the
idea of breaking Orel's spirit anymore than it was, was actually more torture to my conscious than I ever thought was possible. Even if the whole family was a sham, I no longer wanted to be the one to ruin that boy's idea of life even if
his perspective was completely insane. I did not have that heart. And besides it was too late to make changes. It was always too late for any of them.
I hope I can only find a meaning in this life...If it isn't Clay or his family dynamic...Who was I? Daniel Stopframe, P. E. coach? So dull...But maybe I could start making a difference...but its going to be awhile until I feel right
again. I am sorry. Love doesn't fade like a dog being put asleep...It takes time and effort...I'm sorry Orel. I wish you the best. May all your dreams come true.
-Your coach. Daniel Stopframe.