No title

" For someone who just stepped into thier freedom you could at least make an attempt to look greatful"

I could make a comment about his ill fitting suit at the moment or make a subtle passive aggresive remark about that silly comb over. however he is right; I loath that fact, but I have just been in prison for 5 years and I am out because of his charity the least I could do is put on a smile. It wont happen I know that and so does he. I lean back in my seat, place may head on the top rest and close my eyes under a pair of dark armani shades; I've missed these. the litte materialistic comforts of home......



"Do you want to practice your speech again.."

"No I fucking don't"

"Classy"

"Well I am not sure what they told you up front but classy hasn't been to prison in a while, guess I just forgot how she looked... I dont want to practice that speech beacuse I don't have to I get the routine.... I am sorry, I am remorseful, I am healed( blah blah blah)"



He hates me right now has hated me since the day I was born but he needs me and that is the only reason why I still here. If he truly had his way I would have been buried in that prison.. under it if need be. See my familal ties have never been about love but instead a losely based barter system. like I won't vice your balls if you dont slit my throat. I should really stop provoking him; all that power and influence is something that I will need very soon. I lost everything in the way of my hand to play. I have no money to speak of, no power, no up and coming golden smile. That was all tranished and locked away; I was made an example out of. No..... I have nothing, just a name and the appearence of support from a man who have never been capable of loving anything in his life.



"Since you insist on running you mounth for the duration of this freedon ride, why don't you go over the terms of my release... you seem to like that one daddy"



I lift my head from the rest just long enough to say this and rapidly let me head fall back down again. He got the small car this time. Classy but conservative, this is not a celebration after all I suppose a real limo would have been well... rude to ask for. The windows are tinted at least and the driver cant hear us. The seats are very close together and my father and I are playing the mirror game. We would be if one side was a rigid prick and the other an reformed felon... When head hits the head rest again I can feel the heat radiating off of his knuckles, the heat hits my knees. He will reach his limit soon so I know to stop the games. I stay silent for the rest of the trip, l close my eyes and try to think of home, my cell, the family I left behind.... her.