Mixtape Ghost N
Master CrimLawrence climbed back in the attic window and headed down the stairs. His first hint that something was off was the familiar smell of menthol cigarettes. Oh no.
He came into the living room to confirm his fears. His mother was in his house, with luggage, and was storming around looking for things to destroy.
"Lawrence!" She snapped. "This place is a fucking disgrace. How is your aging mother supposed to live in a house like this?!"
He clenched his fists. "You aren't!" He shouted. "How did you get in here?!"
"You left the key under the mat like I've told you not to a hundred times. You'll listen to your mother one of these days boy."
"Get the hell out of my house!"
"You wouldn't throw your own mother out would you?"
"Like hell I wouldn't!"
"I'd hate to have to call the cops, boy. Who are they going to believe? A poor, little old lady, or a slobbish, drunken brute?!"
Lawrence clammed up. The last time she called the cops, claiming elder abuse, he'd spent the night in jail before it was sorted out. He scowled, disgusted with her and himself. She was coming into his life, yet again, to destroy it. The Maitlands hung around at the top of the stairs, sharing looks of concern. They followed Lawrence when he stormed past them to his bedroom.
"That horrible woman is you mother?" Barbara asked.
"So they say," Lawrence growled, trying to hold back the tears that were trying to sting his eyes.
He came into the living room to confirm his fears. His mother was in his house, with luggage, and was storming around looking for things to destroy.
"Lawrence!" She snapped. "This place is a fucking disgrace. How is your aging mother supposed to live in a house like this?!"
He clenched his fists. "You aren't!" He shouted. "How did you get in here?!"
"You left the key under the mat like I've told you not to a hundred times. You'll listen to your mother one of these days boy."
"Get the hell out of my house!"
"You wouldn't throw your own mother out would you?"
"Like hell I wouldn't!"
"I'd hate to have to call the cops, boy. Who are they going to believe? A poor, little old lady, or a slobbish, drunken brute?!"
Lawrence clammed up. The last time she called the cops, claiming elder abuse, he'd spent the night in jail before it was sorted out. He scowled, disgusted with her and himself. She was coming into his life, yet again, to destroy it. The Maitlands hung around at the top of the stairs, sharing looks of concern. They followed Lawrence when he stormed past them to his bedroom.
"That horrible woman is you mother?" Barbara asked.
"So they say," Lawrence growled, trying to hold back the tears that were trying to sting his eyes.