A conversation with Chris Holland’s son Braden (he is 2 years old)


Do you want to listen to the banana song… do you want to play with the trains?


So you want to choo choo

I will end you!

What are you talking about? Banana song?

Jesus Christ get your head out of your ass, do you see how simple my life is, how the world works around me, how I own it? What are you now 32 and you pull up here in front of my fathers place with that piece of shit car of yours, the paint chipping off like a leper, like a rape victim and you drink all of my fathers rum watch a little tivo and call it all good… nigger you are cutting into my shit, into my “happy time” fuck off!


What nigger?

I mean, how did your dad got all this? I work… I work hard, he hasn’t seen what I have seen, I have been around the block, I know love, and do you know love? A girl so angelic, walking across a bar to kiss you, to hold onto your genitals like a carry on bag… she wants to take it onto the plane with her… never out of her sight… this girl, this thing will bend your fucking two year old mind, she will hold you hostage!

Hey, hey… watch me hold hostage to the whole fucking neighborhood cunt, I will shit my diggers and you have no idea how shitting your diggers will “bend time” you think you are slick because you can rub your dumb drunk cock in and out of some slut you pick up at a bar, nigga I am here to tell you, try taking a shit in your pants! A matter of a fact, that “next girl” that you “want to fuck” and you think that “you leave an impression on, just take a shit on her because let me tell you brother, there aint nothing like that!

Shit on her?

No… are you listening to me? You aint doing a fucking productive thing with your life, your not out climbing mountains, your not swimming around lake washington make money for retards or anything like that… and if you aint doing that, then get simple, get back to what you know…..

But I…

But I what? What have you done in the last three years…really? You have all this potential and you crushed it, ran away from it, chose to swing hammers in Friday Harbor… Why? What are you scared of, what do you fear… what do you even know? For example me and you sitting here, you drinking my fathers rum, me acting like I actually like all this choo choo train shit, my dad working his ass off, paying collage loans, my mother raising me like she gives a shit, houses and debt, at least they are putting their shit on a chopping block at least they are risking it all… and what are you doing?

Nothing really…


Braden, I love you, you are right…

Yeah, what ever, just give me your keys, you are too drunk to drive, wave them in front of my face, after all they are shiny, and I might think they are interesting…

Braden, do you want to play with the keys?

Fuck yeah!

yeah nigga, you didnt think i had it in me did you? i am getting back and you have no idea...