I have been working on some additions to Fragments of Fiction. I have a lot of work to do and am anxious to spend more time on it, but have been too busy to accomplish much.
I spent a little time writing more about Georgie and the relationship with the male protagonist. I haven’t decided if I am going to use the following 600 words as its own chapter or if I am going to work it in to one of the earlier bits about Georgie. Feel free to share your thoughts.
More About Georgie
If you were to ask me why I started hanging out with Georgie I wouldnâ€™t be able to give you answer. I donâ€™t know why. It is the kind of answer or should I say non-answer that used to infuriate my father. When I was a child I could never have gotten away with explaining that I didnâ€™t know why I had done something. An answer like that would not have been acceptable to him.
Of course like most teenagers I had responded to most of his questions about what I did or didnâ€™t do with the very thing I just mentioned. It is part of a rite of passage to try and irritate your parents and I was a master at it. One of my fatherâ€™s favorite movies was Cool Hand Luke.
Maturity is a wonderful thing as it allows you to look back and see what a jerk you really were. All those times you thought you were being cool, all those moments when you thought that you were just like James Dean have a way of being colored by time to your advantage. But if you stop and think about it, if you are honest and truthful you find that most of the time you werenâ€™t that cool and you might have even been a complete asshole. Maybe I am being too egocentric, but I suspect that I am not the only one who sees their past this way.
My father worked hard at trying to maintain a relationship with me. He tried to be my friend and to stay involved in my life. I hated it. The simple questions he asked me felt like an interrogation so I did my best to be difficult so that he would stop.
Often when he would try and speak with me I would quote Strother Martinâ€™s famous line:
â€œWhat we’ve got here is failure to communicate. Some men you just can’t reach, so you get what we had here last week which is the way he wants it. Well, he gets it. And I don’t like it any more than you men.â€
After all if you are going to try and aggravate someone you might as well take something they love and twist it, offer it to them in some perverse distortion of itself. And it worked. After a while my father just stopped speaking with me. He gave up and I got angry. It is kind of silly because he was only doing what I wanted him to do, but all it did was piss me off.
Maybe that is what pushed me towards Georgie. I didnâ€™t have any older siblings and without my father there was no longer any sort of male role model in my life. Not that Georgie was any older than I was, but he did have some life experiences that I didnâ€™t have and he had a certain kind of charisma. I canâ€™t explain it, wonâ€™t even try other than to say that he had a magnetic personality that attracted people.
And he was confident. Lord was he ever confident. Georgie walked like there was nothing in the world that could stop him from going wherever it was he was headed. He moved with an attitude that radiated from all sides of him. Mean, nasty, arrogant, cocky, bold and confident. He was all of those things and proud to be described that way.
If you asked Georgie if it was better to be feared or respected he would have picked feared without hesitation.
Georgieâ€™s reputation for violence was earned and well deserved.