“What’s the matter with you?” His mother said angrily.

“Your face.”

“Oh, well, it must be easy sitting there, all high and mighty, the king of shit mountain.”

“Shit mountain, that’s exactly what this fucking place is. This disgusting house, that we live in. You know what the sickest pert of it is? You come in here every goddamn morning and give me the same, sick look.”

“What look is that?”

“You look at me, like I’m the loser.”

“Oh.”

“And you sit there, with your fuckin’ scratch off lottery tickets, you think, ‘Oh, maybe, maybe tomorrow, it’s all gonna change.’ You’re never gonna fucking ge the right-

“Are you done? Who gave you the right to start shit? What are you, Jesus, nailed to that couch, suffering for my sins, and I’m the loser… that makes you the son of a loser, you fuckin’ moron.” She put her cigarette out on a paper plate of food on the coffee table.

“You’re pathetic.” He flung the plate at her and stormed out of the house. “Who the hell does she think she is? I am Jesus. I am Jesus!” He screamed at nothing. He got into his car and screeched out of the driveway, heading towards the 7/11.