A Family Dinner
My mom was dating Steven Small after my father died.
They were talking the crime that occurred in the neighborhood, and they are calling it they're-just-fighting-against-each-other bullshit.
I stood up and said, "That's just a typical cop-out talk. You just assume that people would think it's an open and close case when you think 'we' had something do with it."
"Gumball, people are hurting each other," Small said, "but that doesn't mean we got to pick 'Who to Blame?' here. We just need to examine this thing out."
"Yeah, the same with that fucking idiot, Rodney Michaels?"
Rodney Michaels was a 3-D person, back in Bermin Vince Beach. He was falsely accused of attacking cops when they brought up topics like the book of To Kill a Mocking Bird, they decided to free him. Six days later, he overdosed himself with crack.
"Rodney King wasn't a menace to society—"
"—he was a fucking idiot that was founded by the jury to be a nut case and decided not to do any real justice."
"But we accuse people of other races, doesn't that show something?"
"In fact, no, it doesn't."
"Why?"
"Easy! The government has been fucking with our heads to be these social, blindfolded, numb idiots, who can't think and ask a question. Just with the 3-Ds they think they're tough shit because we freed them, like what? 200 years ago? How long does it take to get your act together?"
"Well traditional cartoons have been prosecuted for 5,000 years."
"Look, our country made a fucking mistake by bringing those fuckers on a boat and bringing them here to smoke goddamn tobacco!"
"May I be excuse?" Anais said, obviously not wanting to be a part of the conversation.
"No. Sit your fucking ass down and listen."
"Gumball, please," Nicole said, strained from all this talk.
"I'm with you, baby," Davana said, "I'm tired of all these fucking hypocrites, thinking we should all be equally. That's fucking pussy shit!"
"Oh! And you're one talk." Anais said.
"I mean look at the police for chrissakes, its nonsense."
Anais began to get up, "You don't even know what you're talking about."
"Hey! Sit down, listen to my girlfriend talk, and show her some respect!"
She didn't listen and started to get up and tried to leave.
"Hey, Anais! Sit back down!"
"Let me go!"
"No!"
She started to get around me, but I wouldn't let her. Soon enough, I grabbed her ear and told her she needed to learn manners. My family started to get scared and tried to get me to stop. I grabbed her food—it was a rare, red steak—and I shoved it down her throat. She started to cough; she started to choke and couldn't breathe. My brother, Darwin—who had his head shaved as well—tried to stop me, but I pushed him to the floor. I ended up throwing my sister to the floor.
Anais started to breathe again, but left the kitchen table.
I looked at Small and took off my shirt. I had a tank top, but I had symbols that showed I was against him, no matter what. I smiled at him for it.
"Gumball…what are you doing? This is your family."
"That's right! My family! And as long as I'm a part of this family, you're not a part of it! 'Cause I got news for you Small! I don't give two shits about you! And whatever plans you had about trying to fuck my mom, it ain't gonna happen! Now, get the fuck out of here, you fucking kyke!"
He looked down at me. He started to walk about the door, but took a final glance at me.
I pulled from my tank top my symbol and said, "That means 'Not Welcome'!"
He left.
My mom started talking to me on what was I thinking.
"Me!? I can't believe you brought that fucker into our home. I can't even believe you went from dad to this! Have you no shame?!"
She screamed and cried, "I'm ashamed that you came out of my body!"
She ran out the door.
I screamed out, "Go run to your fucking kyke!"
I looked around, but it didn't really help. I even saw Darwin at the table after I threw him down like he was nothing. He was my brother. I asked how he was feeling and he said he was okay. That was good; it was good to hear. He then looked scared and I didn't know why…until I turned around and saw why.
Anais ran up to me with a baseball bat and said, "Take this you fucker!"
I grabbed the bat and stopped her. I tried to calm her down, but eventually she cooled a little. I apologized to them by saying I was just mad and I wouldn't do anything to hurt them, ever.
"I don't believe you," Anais said.
"I trust you, Gumball," Darwin said.
Soon enough, mom came in, and we would just look at each.
I guess I should explain a little bit about my dad and anger, right?
Now, when I was 12, I wouldn't believe it when someone told me that my dad was a fireman. But something snapped with Richard, my father. Since he caused destruction, he was able to maintain it when his job was to stop it; he was a firefighter, so it was easier.
Many people would say—even me—that the start of my problems was when my dad was murdered. But, come to think of it, it wasn't. It started before it.
It all started a couple of weeks before he died.
We were at the dinner table, enjoying a nice family dinner.
My dad starts talking, more like an adult since the job has made him more mature. We were talking about the big game I was having. I wasn't worried, but scared with a writing exam. I was doing an essay on the story, "Native Boy."
My mom made a crack when she said that they don't teach students the war writer Tom Blancy.
He looked a bit disappointed now.
He told me it was everything he saw now, this whole "3-D exploitation" and all. He said that I should pass the class with the teacher, but I shouldn't take in every bit of information he's feeding me. He said it was bullshit, but then clarified: "Its nigger bullshit."
I had hair back then, but when my dad died, two weeks later, it was gone.
I even was interviewed on public television about it.
They asked me, "How do you feel?"
I replied, "How do you think I feel? It's typical."
"How is it typical?"
"Well…look at our country for chrissake. It's a melting pot of criminals. 3-Ds. And…well, there are those morphers, hybrids, and other shitheads…whatever."
"So you're saying the shooting of your father is 'race' related?"
"Every problem in this country is 'race' related. It's either the 3-Ds, morphers, hybrids…every non-Protestant group in society. I mean look at the immigration problem…AIDS…it's the entire non-2-Ds fault."
And with that, my hate took off. I met Chris later on, but where it all really changed me was in prison. Then again, who hasn't been changed there?