I do not own Bates Motel.
But, in some ways, I do own a Dylan. And I love him so much.
Yeah, Whatever
The Empowering/Gentling of The Shrew
". . . Mom."
It just kind of slipped out.
He hadn't meant for it to.
She had tried to bribe him with . . .
". . . French toast left."
Whoa there, Mary Poppins, it's early still.
And what do you want? I've been eating cold cereal for months and you never cared.
Confiding in him about her fear of Abernathy and paranoia of Romero and all of humanity in general.
His instinct . . .
You with a gun? Oh, hell no.
. . . had been followed closely by his second instinct . . .
Might make her happy though.
. . . and in the end he had gotten her what she had asked for.
She had thanked him . . .
Aww, she likes me again.
. . . making him want to soften . . .
All I had to do was buy her a deadly weapon.
. . . but he had stayed tough and aloof . . .
"Come on, I'll teach you how to shoot."
. . . and against his own murmuring misgivings . . .
Norma Bates with a gun, oh boy, we're all in trouble now.
. . . put her in the truck and taken her out to . . .
"Where are we going?"
"Some place we can't get arrested for illegally obtained firearms."
. . . the middle of nowhere to teach her to shoot.
Set up some bottles.
Facing the swamp.
And . . .
"First of all, you need to hold it properly."
. . . begun the task of teaching her how to defend herself with a loaded gun.
She didn't listen, like a hyper little kid with a toy.
Pulled the trigger too fast. While he was still giving instructions.
Whoa! Archer! Focus!
And nearly scared him to death.
"Did I say shoot?!"
And he randomly wondered if this was what parenthood was like.
Her, unconcerned with his upset with her disregard for rules and procedures of . . .
"Eh, I had the bottle in my sights."
. . . proper firearm safety.
And then she asked his about his job and against his better judgment, he had told the truth . . .
". . . pot fields."
. . . and like a little kid . . .
"I don't like that!"
I didn't ask, Norma.
. . . had been reprimanded.
"I'm twenty two years old!"
He didn't like her acting all high and mighty.
As if you're all perfect. Bullshit.
But he had gotten her back on track . . .
Would you stop shooting?!
. . . mostly.
And then . . .
"Son of a bitch."
She had done it.
Nailed it actually.
Right off the cuff.
Damn, that was awesome!
He guessed it was from all the closeness and bonding.
Her all excited and happy. And not screaming at him.
And it had just . . .
"You called me 'Mom'. You haven't done that in like . . . I don't know how long."
. . . slipped out.
She said she didn't know how long it had been.
He knew.
He had started calling her Norma about six months before he had left home.
Dropping 'Mom' 'cause by that point they had been on the same maturity and intellectual level.
And he couldn't stomach her fake mom-ness away more.
Yeah, well . . .
Nothing had changed.
He had just . . . slipped up.
"Well . . ."
He shrugged it off . . .
". . . loaded gun in your hands, Norma."
. . . like he always did with emotions nowadays.
'Cause even though he was feeling good about her at the moment . . .
This is fun. Teaching you how to fire a bullet at another human being.
Well, whiskey bottle.
. . . he didn't trust it to last.
He couldn't.
But for now . . .
"You're empty."
. . . he let it ride.
And showed her how to reload.
That was a fun little scene, wasn't it? And still all over the place, right?
Anyway, thanks to Guest Reviewer, WordWeaver81, and Lana Brown for continuing to review.