Jack
“I don’t like other people. And they don’t like me either.
“I’ll live.
“My mom says it’s because I’m selfish. But if she improved herself instead of criticizing me all the time, maybe I would have had a new father by now. I don’t have a father, by the way. The old one left.
“I used by BB gun again yesterday. The bird fell. I watched it hit the ground. I wonder what the bird was thinking. Anyway, who cares? Who cares about what a bird thinks? That is why I practice and train. I train to hit targets. I train to get better skills.
“What do I really like to do? I like video games where soldiers kill enemies. It takes skill to kill enemies. It is exciting too. You don’t get bored. On the screen the enemy soldiers pop up from the ground all of a sudden, and you have to hit them to win. You have to pile up points. In the game, when you hit a guy, the blood gets splashed on the ground. I like that. The blood makes it more real. Blood doesn’t bother me, by the way.
“My friend, Roger, has a father who shoots real guns. He is training me to shoot! Roger’s father is okay because Roger gets to do what he likes. At my house, my mom doesn’t like me, as you probably can tell: I am a poor student, I’m messy, I don’t tidy up my room. The other day I left my shower towel on the bed, and she comes in and says in that voice of hers, “Is it really too much to ask that you pick up your stuff? You know the burdens I’m under. You know I can’t bear things. I can’t do all of this alone.” She goes saying that while other boys make their mother’s proud, she has nothing to be proud in me. And I think, proud of what?
“Anyway, life is boring, and I hate school. I have a Latin teacher who doesn’t like me. Why study a language that no one speaks anymore? It is fun watching her getting angry at me. It like watching a dog growling and showing its gums. I saw dog like that once. My mom is after me about school again today, but why should I pay attention? We all sit like groups of grouse on the ground, little seated birds being preached at. My class is full of weenies. A lot of teachers think that I am a boy after their own heart, but I want nothing to do with all that learning shit. It’s not for me. Even before I went to school, knew I would cut a poor figure – I knew it before I went there. So what? Let the other kids be the center of attention. If I could do what I like and do what I really wanted, I would be able to hunt all the time, be out in the big, vacant lot near our house all the time. In school, I cannot study. I sit there at my desk, and I stare at the books, I tried to make out what they meant, but I couldn’t. I really tried, but nothing happened. My mind just doesn’t work. I just sit there.
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