These cocky pricks here think they're the shit because their daddy went to Brown. Fuck you. You want to know real power? Have your pale, pot-bellied, balding daddies try to take over the New York underworld, see how long they live.

These snobby assholes wanna look down on me? So what if I'd rather have nachos and watch the new Tarantino flick than eat your soy burgers and join fucking Greenpeace you pretentious dicks.

If I have to sit through another one of those save humanity documentaries I'm gonna shoot myself in the face.

NO. I'm going to off myself in the most grotesque, unsophisticated way possible. Like the Evil Dead remake, just gore everywhere. That way mom can't claim another sob story.

I'd do it in the middle of one of her Oprah book clubs or some shit, make sure to cause the biggest scene ever. Fucking humiliate her, ruin her perfect "Real Housewives" life.

I had finally beat the boss I'd been laboring over and paused the game I'd been playing while thinking up ways to humiliate my mother. The strangers I had been playing with online started shouting insults at each other and I just saved and logged out. I stared at the screen, rage and sadness welling up with in me.

I wondered what it would have been like to play with actual friends in the flesh beside me, helping each other beat levels and find hidden objects and spaces. I tried to picture it in my head, and I tried imagining the people here in Long Island, and how they would look, crowded around my flat screen, but laughed at the outrageousness of it.

I did picture someone that fit though, and pondered momentarily since he seemed awfully familiar. I got up and wandered down the hall and downstairs towards the kitchen, still wracking my brain on how I knew the guy.

Was it an actor? No, he looked perfectly normal. Probably a bit too normal for Hollywood. He had wire-rimmed glasses and curly brown hair. His face was pretty ordinary, I guess.

Dammit, how do I know this guy? Maybe I've met him before? God knows I didn't meet him here. Or at one of mother's cocktail/garden shit fests. He'd stick out… Well, just as much as I do.

I must have met him somewhere though, cause I know I know this guy. I mean, I can picture him, plain as day.

I walked in the pantry and rooted around until I found some chips, and opened the bag, devouring a handful.

"Is that you, Christopher? What are you doing? You had better not be eating!" Came a screech from my mother. I rolled my eyes and sighed audibly.

I came out from the pantry back into our immaculate kitchen and my mother was standing, putting earrings on. Her new security guard/chauffer/boy-toy, Javier, was beside her.

"What are you wearing? Don't tell me you forgot," My mother said, eyeing me over.

I just stared at her, mute. "Hurry up and change, we're going to be late. And put up those chips, for god's sake," She fussed.

I made no move to do either. "What is it this time? Someone's birthday? Or an unveiling of someone's remodeled bathroom?" I looked her over, "You're wearing all black, don't tell me somebody died!" I added feigning shock.

"Christopher!" My mother scolded me, "It's that benefit dinner. Go change, we're late as it is."

"Benefit for what? Our own wallets? Are we raising money for the next home remodel? You know, our kitchen is looking kind of dated," I mused, teasing her.

"No, god, Chris, just go change!" she insisted.

"You don't even know what it's for, do you?" I accused and watched as a flash of embarrassment flash across her face.

"It doesn't matter what it's for, just put on those khakis and the sweater I got you the other day," She said, trying to brush me off.

"It does too matter! You don't think Hitler had benefit dinners? What if we're giving money to some right-wing nut job intent on exterminating all the gays?" I yelled back, still refusing to change.

"It's not political, it's for some kid with cancer or some— Why aren't you changing?! I swear to god, Christopher Andrew D'Amico, if you don't get changed and come down here in five minutes, I'm going to make life very difficult for you. Don't you forget, I brought you into this world, so don't you think for a second that I can't take you out!"

It's times like that, when my mother uses my fill name and her nostrils flare, and her eyes get all wide and wild, that I'm reminded that my mother was married to my father and for a good reason. She can be equally as terrifying.

It's pretty rare though, and I tried to react as nonchalant as possible, as if I was going to change anyway. But that's how I got stuck at yet another "pat ourselves on the back because we're so great" dinner.

But I didn't bother sitting with the ken clones. I just sat and pouted at my own table as my mother went around, spreading the latest gossip.

"This chicken tastes like shit," I grumbled to no one in particular.

"You'd think at a thousand dollars a pop, the food would be a little better than this," Javier responded. "I've been to quinceañera's better than this."

"I'm guessing the entertainment was better too?" I asked, making small talk out of our mutual boredom.

"Well it's hard to top your drunk uncle singing karaoke of 'Like a Virgin' to his fifteen year old daughter," He said looking at me slyly. We both grinned, but then my mother came over.

"Javier! Could you got home and grab that centerpiece on the table by my boudoir? I wanted to show it to Cynthia," She implored, and I tuned out.

This is so ridiculous. The benefit is for a six-year-old with a rare form of leukemia, but not a single person here even cares. They're all going on about what colleges their children have applied to, and the ten carat diamonds their husbands bought them or how so and so's husband bought her a ten carat ring because she caught him nailing the nanny.

It's the epicenter of the ego fest. I glanced about the room, watching these self-absorbed morons when I noticed security guards turning people away. They were ordinary people, by this event's standards anyway, and were probably only turned away because the dinner was sold out. But the image sprang a memory up in my mind, and I finally remembered how I knew the guy I had earlier envisioned playing video games with me.

I'd seen him at the comic book store. Dad's goon had scared him off. I could even see the look of fear on his face.

I let my shoulders slump. I wondered who the guy was, he was with other friends, and it seemed like he was just trying to say hello and be friendly.

But that ass hat scared him off, so he's not likely to try again. But I might try going to the store again. They did have an awesome collection. And there was a coffee shop in there too. That's pretty unique.

But how the fuck would I get all the way over there? I'd have to have Javier take me, and then it'd just be the same thing all over again.

Well, Javier might be cooler than that, but still.

But that's not the point, right? I'm just sick of these people. These bimbo gold-diggers and snooty yacht club members. People that wouldn't know a good time if they were shot in the face with it.

And I don't even care anymore. Not about the money or the power that came with being a part of the D'Amico family. I mean, look what's it's gotten me so far. I want to be normal and got to meet with friends at the comic store.

But I can't, I'll never be normal, because I AM a D'Amico. And part of being a D'Amico is being in control of the power and corruption. It's just the way it is.

But a part of me sill wants that vision of playing video games. Maybe I'm just scared. I saw what happened to my dad and then…

But I don't really want to be like him. I used to sit in his office and pretend like I was him, but that was child's play. And that was before I saw how dark and twisted the job was.

That video he set up, burning some dude to death was sick, and his was enjoying it. He did that to Kick Ass, who didn't' even do anything.

I watched as Javier went to run my mother's errands and sat feeling bored, confused, and sorry for myself. Was I this bored before dad died? Was it moving here with these people? Or was I just so busy with dad's life that I forgot about my own?


Another Chris chapter :) This story is slowly coming together lol. I don't really have any special thoughts on this chapter so I'll just make my note short, sweet, and to the point.

Thanks for reading, and please leave a review, if so inclined. I enjoy hearing what people think about the characters or what's going on :)