Disclaimer: Wouldn't life be grand if I actually OWNED these characters? I
sure wouldn't be talking with you fine people... I'd own a giant mansion in
West Hollywood where I could stare at Jason Wiles all day...
I don't really know where Maurice thinks he gets off... Barging in on my job and just telling me to quit it. That's what he did, if you think about it. He waltzed right in on my territory, and holding me at gunpoint mind you, he told me to give up my job. Now, I'm sorry, I love big brother but he's really pissing me off with this "super-cop" shit. He's always gotta be in the right place at the right time, trigger-happy as hell. He's gotta be someone's hero.
I'm not sure where he gets it from. It's not like there's a long line of police that he took after, it's not in his blood. Pops wasn't much more than an abuser. Of everything he could get a hold of - Alcohol, Mom, and on special occasions me and Maurice. Every time he said he was sorry Mom and Maury would take him back. You know, convince themselves that he'd change after this one time... After this one beating he'd realize what he was doing and he'd stop, so I'll let him go at me from all sides just this once. Just this once I'll let him through my window because he won't beat Mom. Just this once.
Maurice once told me he never saw them fight. Of course not, Mom always dragged Dad into a separate room. We could hear them fight, though. We could hear his voice dripping with the poison and we could hear her crying. Begging for him to stop because "the kids" could hear. Even though I'm younger I always felt like the bigger brother to Maurice. I'd drag him into a different room and we'd do other stuff, pretend we were soldiers in some desert across the ocean. After awhile we would notice that Mom had stopped crying. We'd go back out of the room and see Dad on the couch, asleep. It'd be over for the time being and there'd be a huge sigh of relief.
At least Mom cared enough to kick his ass to the curb. She was a smart one, she knew what was best for her and her kids.
I don't blame anyone for me and my drug habits. Not Mo, Dad, Mom, not my friends. I blame it on me. I was the one who chose to turn from all my problems. I didn't want to turn to Alcohol, though. I had seen what it did to my family and I didn't want that to happen to me. Ever. So drugs were the solution. When I was high nothing could hurt me. I could take mental and physical hits, and not give a damn. I was invincible. Sort of like what Mo feels as a cop, I guess.
As I'm sitting here in this... cage for a lack of better terms, I realize that's exactly how Maurice feels. His gun and status as a law enforcer are like his drugs. He hides behind them because they make him invincible. Nobody and nothing can hurt him when he's got his bullets with him. So maybe I do understand, now. I turned to drugs to escape from my problems, he turned to a lethal weapon.
Well I've got news for my big brother. Like I just learned, his shield won't be around forever. He'll have to find a way to deal with the pain sooner or later.
I don't really know where Maurice thinks he gets off... Barging in on my job and just telling me to quit it. That's what he did, if you think about it. He waltzed right in on my territory, and holding me at gunpoint mind you, he told me to give up my job. Now, I'm sorry, I love big brother but he's really pissing me off with this "super-cop" shit. He's always gotta be in the right place at the right time, trigger-happy as hell. He's gotta be someone's hero.
I'm not sure where he gets it from. It's not like there's a long line of police that he took after, it's not in his blood. Pops wasn't much more than an abuser. Of everything he could get a hold of - Alcohol, Mom, and on special occasions me and Maurice. Every time he said he was sorry Mom and Maury would take him back. You know, convince themselves that he'd change after this one time... After this one beating he'd realize what he was doing and he'd stop, so I'll let him go at me from all sides just this once. Just this once I'll let him through my window because he won't beat Mom. Just this once.
Maurice once told me he never saw them fight. Of course not, Mom always dragged Dad into a separate room. We could hear them fight, though. We could hear his voice dripping with the poison and we could hear her crying. Begging for him to stop because "the kids" could hear. Even though I'm younger I always felt like the bigger brother to Maurice. I'd drag him into a different room and we'd do other stuff, pretend we were soldiers in some desert across the ocean. After awhile we would notice that Mom had stopped crying. We'd go back out of the room and see Dad on the couch, asleep. It'd be over for the time being and there'd be a huge sigh of relief.
At least Mom cared enough to kick his ass to the curb. She was a smart one, she knew what was best for her and her kids.
I don't blame anyone for me and my drug habits. Not Mo, Dad, Mom, not my friends. I blame it on me. I was the one who chose to turn from all my problems. I didn't want to turn to Alcohol, though. I had seen what it did to my family and I didn't want that to happen to me. Ever. So drugs were the solution. When I was high nothing could hurt me. I could take mental and physical hits, and not give a damn. I was invincible. Sort of like what Mo feels as a cop, I guess.
As I'm sitting here in this... cage for a lack of better terms, I realize that's exactly how Maurice feels. His gun and status as a law enforcer are like his drugs. He hides behind them because they make him invincible. Nobody and nothing can hurt him when he's got his bullets with him. So maybe I do understand, now. I turned to drugs to escape from my problems, he turned to a lethal weapon.
Well I've got news for my big brother. Like I just learned, his shield won't be around forever. He'll have to find a way to deal with the pain sooner or later.