Marcelle is attractive.
Marcelle is a football player.
Marcelle is cliché.
Marcelle is a wolf in sheep clothing.
Marcelle is a Christmas fanatic.
Marcelle is just downright annoying.
Matthew Griffin is a certified theatre geek/video game nerd. And...
❝I gotta' tell you, Santa, there's something about this place that doesn't seem quite...Kosher.❞
Howard Langston
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Matthew is hopelessly trying to edit this stupid play.
He's having difficulty trying to figure out what to do with himself and this material, but he no idea what to do. He's written the basis of the screenplay, but he has to clean it up and add flesh.
But he can't focus. His head keeps wandering off to his parents.
He wonders how his dad is. His mother forbade him to see his dad as a kid and he was sad about it. He was the only kid in his classroom who couldn't bring his dad to bring your dad to school day, because he didn't have a dad. Neither a stepdad.
As he grew older, he developed a growing hatred towards his father, he realized what shit his dad did. He left him and his mother at the most acute time. Matthew was mere a baby.
He's never even met his father. His father was nothing more, and is still nothing more, than a sperm donor to him. He knows the name of the man who fertilized his mother and his occupation [thank you Wikipedia].
Worst of it all, Matthew's name is on his Wikipedia page.
He wonders how it'll be with a dad in the house. The closest he gets to a father is this booty call grown to his mother like a callous. He guesses the man will move into the house soon, if his mother doesn't die of cancer.
He doesn't want to plunge his mind to those depths. He doesn't want his mom to die. To be diagnosed with breast cancer is so typical in this family, it's as common as a pimple.
It doesn't make him any less sad to think of it that way. His mom is destined to fight her own cells, attempting to kill her. He doesn't want to loose his mom. Who does he have left? A grandma who's as old as time with her husband on the mantel in the living room?
He doesn't have any aunts or uncles in America, they are all in Brazil. He doesn't even have a recent passport, he has one of when he was a baby. His grandparents moved to Florida when he was an infant to support his mother in her dire time of need, his grandpa's job was very versatile.
But he died years ago, much to everyone's surprise in a freak accident. His grandmother doesn't have his entire body bottled up in the urn, only debris of him.
The point stays the fact that Matthew hates his dad so much, he wishes the man was dead and he loves his mom too much to wish she was dying.
It doesn't take him too long to realize the irregularity in his chest, the uncomfortably feeling swelling. His entire left side of his body is numb to touch and movement. He writes with his left hand, and he can't even hold the pen up to write down a simple greeting. He only draws a thin, translucent line, not even straight.
