The Fourth Journal of Jesse Fitzgerald
Oh Shit… Oh God… Holy Shit… Sorry, can't talk long. I'm in worry mode to the extreme. Why? Maybe because my ass on the line. My father found out about my fire starting activities. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Not cool man, so not cool. Turns out that my Merit brand Cigarette didn't burn all the way up. Nope, in fact my father found it. Get this, not only did he find it; he was sitting in my room when I got home. He accused me of hiding here and torching things. I told him he was way off base with that theory. Then BAM!! He hits me with the evidence. Not literally. HE pulls out the cigarette. Did I say shit already? Not only that, but soon enough, I was begging; Knees-on-floor, hands-folded-prayer-style, to know who he told. That's right, I begged to be punished. Don't ask why, I just did. Oh, it gets worse. He hugged me. Full-on Bear-Hugged me. Still gets worse. I cried. I actually shed tears. Been a while since that's happened. I was turned into a baby by a fire, a cigarette, and a hug. That really sucks I'll never smoke again. That's a promise. No, I swear it. I hate this. "Sigh" Well now that that's out of my system, the good news is, he didn't tell anyone. Not a soul. Even after I called him a bastard father. I told him I was sorry. This event happens shortly after Campbell Alexander saves my ass form the wrath of Judge DeSalvo. I got nabbed for Grand Theft Auto. No, you idiot, not the game, the real McCoy. I stole Judge Desalvo's Hummer. And even though it has a license plate that reads ALLRISE, I didn't know it was his. Well, the one phone call I got was to Anna. Luckily it wasn't wasted, because 30 minutos later, Campbell and Anna come walking up and tell me I'm free on a P.R. bail. That's Public Relations for you. I still gotta go to court, but hey, at least I still got my wheels to drive on, right? Wrong. Dad took my car, and keys. That really sucks because other than the drugs, I'm ADDICTED to DRIVING.
