Dent Butt coughed maple syrup through his esophagus and out his nose. It dripped in large globs down his chin and over the neat stack of pancakes on his plate. Every once in a while, he shook his head every so slightly, so that he would make a horrible mess in his lap and onto the hardwood floors. He knew the gooey mess would make his parents proud. They were firm believers in making as much of a mess as possible throughout the house. A fact that made Dent very unhappy, since he was more prone to doing nice things, like learning the ballet or the two step.
"Oh what I wouldn't give to make heart-shaped pony cookies," he sometimes thought to himself. "Life just isn't fair."
"No one said it was," Dent said back to himself, as he looked in the mirror on the pantry. He often had heart-to-heart's with himself like this. He just couldn't risk making friends with anyone who believed in the good of humanity, or wanted to be a beacon of hope. His parents would disown him faster than they could take a dump on the living room sofa, or shove the mailman's head in mulch and tell him to eat shit and die. And no matter how Dent tried, he couldn't say such things to Mark, the mailman. He had a nice mustache, and never complained when Dent punched him in the ribs, and told him it was for a school project. He seemed to understand, and aside from Dent's heart-to-heart's with the mirror above the pantry, these moments of acceptance were the happiest moments in Dent's life.
"I hate your guts and I'm going to rip your head off and piss on it!" Dent shrieks at Mark in a flashback of the event put on an old screen in a warehouse on the Bowery. Several people refuse to enter back into the text of the story, and envision other moments of brutality upon Mark, as a montage of several bloody beatings from the Dent family transpire. Those that are looking carefully, notice that Dent is not participating in these events, but slowly creeping backwards against the azalea bushes. Something which triggers several of the readers to form a match cut in their minds, as the azalea bushes blur, and are replaced by the phrases from Dent's Expletives textbook that are listed below:
Like all children who are starved for their parent's approval, Dent spent every afternoon trying to build his vocabulary to get a good grade in his Expletives course at The School of Distaste. He had proceeded through the basic, and was now forming complex improvisational put down's that would give any student in the third form a modest amount of difficulty.