Page 279 (We Need To Talk About Kevin) by Lionel Shriver (via wehopeyourrulesandwisdomchokeyou)
Attention deficit disorder in a pig’s eye. Kevin was an able student when he bothered, and hadn’t been doodling, he’d been taking notes.
"Let’s see," he said, and proceeded to check off successive elements of his list with his red crayon. "Spoiled. You’re rich. I’m not too sure what you think you’re doing without, but I bet you could afford it. Imperious. Pretty good description of that speech just now; if I was you, I wouldn’t order dessert, ‘cause you can bet the waiter’s gonna hawk a loogie in your raspberry sauce. Inarticulate? Lemme see … " He searched the tablecloth, and read aloud, "It’s not that easy, or maybe it is easy, I don’t know. I don’t call that Shakespeare myself. Also seems to me I’m sitting across from the lady that goes on these long rants about ‘reality TV’ when she’s never watched a single show. And that- one of your favorite words, Mumsey- is ignorant. Next: boasting. What was all that these-dumb fucks-suck-dead-moose-dick-and-I’m-so-much-cooler-than-them if it wasn’t showing off? Like somebody who thinks she’s got it right and nobody else does. Trusting … with no idea other people can’t stand them." He underscored this one and then looked me in the eye with naked dislike. "Well. Far as I can tell, about the only the thing that keeps you and the other dumb-ass Americans from being peas in a pod is you’re not fat. And just because you’re skinny you act self-righteous-condescending- and superior. Maybe I’d rather have a big cow for a mother who at least didn’t think she was better than anybody else in the fucking country."
I paid the bill. We wouldn’t conduct another mother-son outing until Claverack.
Ezra by Atlasofimagination