Carter Leggings was a flattish man - and he loved his feelings. His cohorts were pride and joy for him. He hated them, he disciplined them - and he loved them. They, were his tools for victory, they were his life - but, he didn’t mean it that way. He didn’t get grumpy all the time. Infact, it was all a bit of a shock. He was shocked, all the time. Infact, he was shockingly grumpy right now, and all the time he wondered how he had let things get so bad. He was, after all, second command in his life. He was a proud man - the product of a deceitful enemy. His son, Peter.
Peter was gruff of beard, slight of fun, cool of lips, sweaty of brow, slim of ass, contrite of bangs, slimy of nose, and wet of tongue. He was a beast of a son, because he was quiet and demure. He was right, within his own self perhaps. But - he was not the sharpest tool in the shed which he thought he should be. And, he was a player.. He would practice his wit, his tools were never undone. But, well, you shall see.
Infact, Carter was all the world to this boy - in ways he should never see, and in thoughts that he could never imagine. He was alive in the boy. The boy was his jewel. The boy was a jealous type. He thought his things were his, but Carter sought to explain they weren't - and a little on the side. He knew that all the boy owned, was his. By right of fatherhood. Carter Leggings had a bone to pick with the boy. Peter had a nervous twitch for the man. Carter didn’t know how he felt all the time, but he sought out the problem in his mind, and knew it was all the boys fault, whatever it was.
Peter’s manhood was questionable. He was able to control his urges, sure; he was able to seek justice, maybe; sure - but, he was continually full of himself. And, against his father. For, well - you may see this in the nature of a manhood. His coming of age. His passing through the finish sash. His retrieval of the house cup. Because, Peter pretty much thought he was the world to his father, and that he deserved everything in the world from him. Carter always maintained this credibility, because he didn’t really know where to go next. He knew his son was simple, and in training. That was about all he knew.
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I like it. Very descriptive and the way it reads is almost poetic. You have a real talent my friend. It just seemed unfinished to me like it needed to tell a bit more story as if you hit the climax and that was it
I am the poet of the body and I am the poet of the Soul. The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me. The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into a new tongue.
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