Brent sat on a cushioned blue pillow on the floor with his back pressed against his couch, head tilted upwards, a controller in his hand. His mouth hung open, and his eyes were glued on a screen directly in front of him. Brent was playing one of his favorite games; a game that included violence such as ruthless murdering, robberies, prostitutes, and anything else that could stimulate the brain just enough for the player to succumb to their darkest thoughts and play it out on the screen. The game was called, Life ofa Gangsta, and the title stayed true to its word.
Brent's mother, however, hated the game and what it was doing to her son. Or what she thought it was doing to her son. Countless times he would disrespect her and rebel against whatever she said. "Clean the dishes" she would tell him only to get a grunt or an irritable sigh. "Did you do your homework?" she would ask him only to get no response.
She completely disregarded the fact that he was a teenager and that this was normal behavior for one, that he would grow out of it as he became older and began to mature. Matter-of-fact, she should love this type of behavior out of him, other than backtalk, Brent was an exquisite boy. Many boys around the neighborhood were ultimately out of control; many of whom figured they could do whatever they wanted whenever they pleased.
But today would be different, today she would take the game from him and only give it back when he learned to respect her.
"Brent." His mother, Michelle, entered the living room. She looked at her son sprawled out on the floor with his eyes glued to the screen. Michelle waited, and when it didn't seem that he would look at her, she called his name out again. Again, he didn't look at her. Instead, it seemed like the flickering sounds of the dialog sticks grew louder.
Brent hadn't heard his mother call out to him the first time, but he did the second. He knew that he should look at her or even respond to her, so he did just that; he paused the game and turned his head to look at her. "Yes?" He watched as she let out a breath of relief, tried to cover it up as if it wasn't a breath of relief, and then step forward in such a confrontational manner that he caught himself holding his breath instead, waiting to release it in relief. "I don't like the games you're playing." And before Brent could even speak, she began up again, afraid that if she lost the spotlight from the very beginning, she would lose all the momentum she had.
"Do you know how much violence it promotes? It's a lot, and it's starting to rub off on you. I don't want you growing up to be a violent person; you need to get your head out of this fantasy world because it's having negative effects on you. So, give me your gaming console. You've been so disrespectful these past weeks, matter-of-fact it only started when you first got this game. Once you learn to respect me, you'll get it back." She stopped talking but kept her mouth open as if she had something else to say. When she didn't say anything, Brent cleared his throat and spoke up. He paused just for a second to see if she were really done speaking and then begun. "The game isn't making me violent, mom."
That was it for Michelle, that was the point where the water finally built up just enough to break the dam. That was when the skin on her body began to burn as if she were standing on a flamer. That was when the cards were placed flat down on the table, all bets off. "Giving me this attitude will not help your case. Give me your console, and you can believe you won't be getting it back anytime soon, you ungrateful spoiled brat." She seemed to spit the last word out at Brent.
Brent had no words to say to the sudden outbreak of rage from his mother. He knew he would faint soon and die because the breath he held in only to let out in relief wouldn't be coming anytime soon. Instead, he let out a sigh of defeat; he knew that trying to convince his mother to chill out would only result in more maddening rage. He stood up and put the controller in his mother's outstretched hand and turned off his console.
