Character Analysis: The Quiet Kill
Quiet Kill
Sherlock then thought about his larger than life, dramatic, screwed-up best friend Teddy Timberland and his “Oh God isn’t strange” big personality. He was someone who, even with someone else, would be talking highly of no one but himself.
Every point made was all about him and no one else. If he didn’t get his way, his attitude would become aggressive and moody, like he was suddenly a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and start throwing things around, cursing while doing so.
Those were the times when Sherlock would just simply walk away, wanting no parts of anyone that angry.
And then there existed the matter of his mom, “unique and terrific,” a bit on the wild side, with the bluest eye, who smoked pot, loved sex, and counsels her daughter,
the Heroine, to have more orgasms.
That was some deep stuff and he hated her for doing that to his sister. He felt his mom ought to be teaching his sibling love without marriage is a crime.
He knew that were he as big as he was now, he probably would have strangled the life out of her for being such a no-count mom.
Another reason he hated his mom was she had the dog’s mind so mixed up he would only eat flank steak cut up in tiny pieces, and sleeps in the bed, and looks down upon any of the Sherlock’s dates.
Upon visiting, they would become so disturbed they would be in a rush to leave, saying to him how his dog terrified them. He would complain to his mom about it, but she would just shrug her shoulders and say to him, “It’s not my fault your girlfriends are not brave enough to come to see you.” She then would laugh her head off and just walk away. “Why not stop complaining, as they say, ‘Better to be a diamond with a flaw than a pebble without.’”
Sherlock then thought about his larger than life, dramatic, screwed-up best friend Teddy Timberland and his “Oh God isn’t strange” big personality. He was someone who, even with someone else, would be talking highly of no one but himself.
Every point made was all about him and no one else. If he didn’t get his way, his attitude would become aggressive and moody, like he was suddenly a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and start throwing things around, cursing while doing so.
Those were the times when Sherlock would just simply walk away, wanting no parts of anyone that angry.
And then there existed the matter of his mom, “unique and terrific,” a bit on the wild side, with the bluest eye, who smoked pot, loved sex, and counsels her daughter,
the Heroine, to have more orgasms.
That was some deep stuff and he hated her for doing that to his sister. He felt his mom ought to be teaching his sibling love without marriage is a crime.
He knew that were he as big as he was now, he probably would have strangled the life out of her for being such a no-count mom.
Another reason he hated his mom was she had the dog’s mind so mixed up he would only eat flank steak cut up in tiny pieces, and sleeps in the bed, and looks down upon any of the Sherlock’s dates.
Upon visiting, they would become so disturbed they would be in a rush to leave, saying to him how his dog terrified them. He would complain to his mom about it, but she would just shrug her shoulders and say to him, “It’s not my fault your girlfriends are not brave enough to come to see you.” She then would laugh her head off and just walk away. “Why not stop complaining, as they say, ‘Better to be a diamond with a flaw than a pebble without.’”