I hear a horrible sound, like a car accident followed by gunshots, coming from my brother David’s room. It’s not the TV. I stand outside the door and hear him unceasingly murmuring horrible things almost silently. Fucking faggot I’m gonna rip your ass mother is a fucking whore take you out behind the barn you fucking fuck. Like that.
I go to my parents’ room to ask if this happens a lot.
“If what happens a lot?”
The constant explosions and epithets and swearing.
“He’s playing CounterStrike.“
Is he enjoying himself?
“Oh, yes. He loves it.”
Daddy: “We’ve started telling our guests he has Tourette’s.”
Shirley: “The other day one of the boys’ teachers was over and I told her David was on the phone with his grandmother.”