Blame it on the moon. My dad left when I was kid. I forget how old and I doubt it matters. I told everyone the city gobbled him up. No-one believes me, but as far as I know, no-one ever saw him again.
Anyway, an only child with just a mom turns into a weapon. As empirical evidence with hands and feet and eyes and ears, I'm telling you a kid without both parents ends up unbalanced. A kid who sees that his city has teeth can't even find a balance.
My mom did what she could and we made things go along ok. This I know: I owe her a lot, even if I've sometimes despised her. When the day comes that I make a mark that gets me marks, I'm buying her a house befitting all that was taken from her by my father and me, her personal anchor.
Hey, that's pretty good for a guy looking up from the bottom of this bottle.
I guess that's enough nostalgia for now. The next chapter's worth hanging around for, buddy. It's all about death taking a face and making a point. I've still got the ring, but I see a dark hood in it's reflection sometimes.
Time to get shitfaced and watch cartoons.
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