A long walk to forgiveness
Jan 16, 2012 9:14:45 GMT -5
Post by killz4food on Jan 16, 2012 9:14:45 GMT -5
Chris(topher) Demers Of District 9 [/font] [/color]
So it happened again. The years went by on the brink of starvation and famine once again, and then the capitol comes and takes the kids right out of District 9 in promise of entertainment and wealth if the tributes were strong enough and we showed enough support. In translation, give all our money to a pointless cause. The whole thing was pointless, but there was no point in fighting it. No point in hiding it. So as Chris walked up to the hill where his father's grave lay, and knelt down beside it, only to spit right on the tomb stone. [/size]
"Mom says hi you prick. Guess who made it this time." Chris was happy with those words, for the relived some of the tension that he never got to show towards his father in fear of a beating as a child. But most drunks were like that. And what was Chris becoming. He ran down the checklist.
Never hit a woman.
Check.
Drink all day and night only to come home hollering at nothing.
Negative. Thank god he wasn't capable of drinking so much alcohol if any.
Fight the town for looking at you wrong.
Chris got into the occasional fight, but the purpose was always good. Never poor.
That was the checklist he ran through everyday at his Fathers grave. Sometimes it was smaller, sometimes it was unbearably large. With a kick at his fathers tombstone, and another spit at it, he turned around, only to see another figure down the hill.
So it happened again. The years went by on the brink of starvation and famine once again, and then the capitol comes and takes the kids right out of District 9 in promise of entertainment and wealth if the tributes were strong enough and we showed enough support. In translation, give all our money to a pointless cause. The whole thing was pointless, but there was no point in fighting it. No point in hiding it. So as Chris walked up to the hill where his father's grave lay, and knelt down beside it, only to spit right on the tomb stone. [/size]
"Mom says hi you prick. Guess who made it this time." Chris was happy with those words, for the relived some of the tension that he never got to show towards his father in fear of a beating as a child. But most drunks were like that. And what was Chris becoming. He ran down the checklist.
Never hit a woman.
Check.
Drink all day and night only to come home hollering at nothing.
Negative. Thank god he wasn't capable of drinking so much alcohol if any.
Fight the town for looking at you wrong.
Chris got into the occasional fight, but the purpose was always good. Never poor.
That was the checklist he ran through everyday at his Fathers grave. Sometimes it was smaller, sometimes it was unbearably large. With a kick at his fathers tombstone, and another spit at it, he turned around, only to see another figure down the hill.
