Found

My brother

keeps a human head in his closet.

Every few days

it's a new head.

Usually, they are black women.

But one time he had

a white man's head in there.

I was going bowling

with my friend David one day...

And I needed

to borrow Steve's ball.

He wasn't home, so I took

it without asking permission.

That's a big no-no.

When I opened the bag at the

bowling alley, I almost cried.

I didn't tell anyone about it,

and I used David's ball instead.

I lied and said the one I

brought was too heavy for me.

I'm surprised

they couldn't smell it.

It's another black

woman's head,

And her hair

has been ripped out.

I've seen lots of

horror movies,

And the heads in those things don't come

close to looking like the real thing.

I can't explain what it feels

like to hold one of them.

At one point

it had thoughts and feelings...

And it kissed somebody

it loved.

Now it's just a bloody head

in a bowling ball bag.

I hope I don't end up that way.

If Steve found out I was in his

room, he'd probably kill me too.

I worry about him

finding out.

What if I put the head back in

the bag facing the wrong direction?

If he's a killer, he probably

thinks about things like that,

Because he's crazy.

The first person

he would blame would be me.

Big brothers blame little

brothers for everything.

Dad says

that's just the way it is.

Marty!

Didn't you hear me

yelling for you?

I was upstairs.

What are you

working on?

Me and David are making

a graphic novel.

Like a comic book?

David said

they are graphic novels.

What are

graphic novels?

Does that mean that

they're really graphic?

It just means

they use pictures.

Anyway, me and David have each

been working on a superhero.

See?

Here's mine...

Bag Lunch.

And here's Roach man.

David drew him. Hmm.

We take turns drawing the backgrounds.

Tonight I get to draw the blood.

Marty!

What?

I wish you could get interested

in things that weren't so horrible.

You know those movies used

to keep you up at night.

I'm not five anymore.

I'm 12. God!

Hi to you too.

I said hi.

Get your things off the table

before your dad gets home.

I wish my mom wouldn't

worry about what I watched or drew.

The only reason she cares is because of

a picture I drew in art class last year.

My teacher freaked out

about it,

So Mom had to come to school

and talk about it.

I guess some people are afraid

that if a kid watches horror movies,

He'll grow up to be

a killer or a psycho.

But I'm not a violent person.

I don't even like killing bugs.

I get good grades and I do what people

tell me to, so they just shouldn't worry.

Dad tells Mom all boys are interested

in horror movies and graphic novels.

He says it's normal, and that

I'll grow out of it someday.

But if that's true, then

I don't wanna ever grow up.

Not ever.

Marty.

Marty.

Marty!

Hmm? Sorry.

That must have been

one heck of a daydream.

What if we went bowling

this weekend?

I have to work this

weekend. Maybe next weekend.

You have to work this

weekend? Everyone's working overtime.

It's mandatory.

Well, I guess it's

just you and me, kiddo.

And Steve.

And Steve.

Can we go see

a movie?

As long as it's not

a horror movie.

Let's try something different

for a change.

I'm sure we can find

something family-oriented.

There's oil

on the driveway again.

- I asked you to park on the street.

- I do.

Our cars don't leak. Just

your piece of crap does.

I didn't park

on the driveway.

Don't ignore me, Son! That's

your oil in the driveway.

It's not my problem

if you don't believe me.

Not my problem?

Rate this script:(0.00 / 0 votes)