{{AMERICAN TEENAGER}}

TWO: Mashed potatoes and the importance of section plates

                                                                                          {past}

The corn yellow calendar hanging on the wall across from where you sat,knees cradled near your chest, taunted you from across the barren room.Scarlet ink bleeding through layers of paper and circling the very day you were brought into this world in God's image,which was today. You were 13; in your childish brain this meant something so grandiose to you,the changing of child to teenager.You almost expect to turn to the cracked but cherished vanity mirror and expect a fuller figured woman rather than the doelike girl-child you were,the one your father hated with a fury reminiscent of Cain himself.His thunderous footsteps shook the very foundation of the decaying house beneath your battered feet and your spindly legs snapped into action,like cautious prey you stood poised before what was once a cream coloured door though now was muddled with varying maroon and taupe bruises.Your back was straight and your expression stilled,though you hadn't quite mastered the infamous act of disguise; notably from how your knobbly knees wobbled in anticipation for the Man of this house. The rhythmic booming of his presence quietened for a brief moment and for that brief moment the rays of light streamed in through dirty glass panes and cast upon your door in front of you,beams of a great brightness danced before your very eyes and with a naivety only a child such as yourself could possess you thanked your God for watching over you,his ever-so eager disciple,you thanked him for loving you in the absence of the man-shaped cavern your father burned through your very core.Hinges squealed and screamed in protest at your father's' reckless usage of the hollowed door and then He stood before you.A great almighty man drowned and shrouded in shadow,breathing in the remnants of his disgusting sin as it lay heavily in the air,he couldn't see how the sin swallowed him whole but you,you could.
"You better get yer ass in the truck now,its time you learnt about some real hardship" the motion your head made was one of a great eagerness in desire to please the Almighty Man in front of you and freckled legs danced through the gravesite of a once happy home before you sat yourself on the familiar reeking leather of your fathers havelock blue chevrolet C10 truck.
Stomach twisting and turning over in terror at what's to come.

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"But if there is serious injury, you are to take life for life,
eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot,
burn for burn, wound for wound, bruise for bruise."

- BOOK OF EXODUS 21:23-25

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                                                                                      {present}

You had found that twisting your ankle hurt like a bitch and couldn't really get around much without having to hobble about which,in your eyes, was extremely embarrassing;So,you took a much needed break over the weekend and now here you were trying to find your keys amongst your various trinket bowls,realistically they shouldn't have been too difficult to find considering it was 5% keys and 95% obnoxious key chains,such as the beaded pink and black chain that spelt out 'PILLOW PRINCESS' that Gaby had bought for you from a old lady's market stall.

To Gaby's sadistic delight,the word 'princess' was spelt wrong and instead you now had 'PILLOW PRANCESS' dangling from your pockets at all times for everyone to see,Though you got her back by bleach staining a giant dick into her favorite pair of jeans.(unfortunately you later found out this made her want to wear them more and she now referred to them as her ''dickie denims''). Fortunately the keys seemed to just manifest right before your fingertips and you snatched them up before swinging your leather satchel work-bag onto your dominant arm.