"Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people."― Carl Gustav Jung

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After the battle rattles finally subside, I rise up out of her lovely darkness into the current, ready to war once more. But with all the excitement and stress of "stupid boy" moment May is clearly spent. So we opt out actually even pretending to do anything constructive for the rest of study buddies.

Instead, she just folds herself up against me, and we just hang out in our small little corner carrel. Killing off time while we wait for Someone's Sister to finish getting all cheered up. Wasting our time talking through the various possibilities of how all this went suddenly sideways. The one thing we both pretty much agree on at this point is that this thing, whatever it is? It's not over by a long shot, it's just getting started.

So after seeing May off into her sinister sister's aegis, I take the slow skate back down the hill from Hell to the House of the Blazing Raisins. Turns out that the Irish Antichrist is at something called her Monthly Majjong meeting with her minions. So it's just me and ole Aces for manly dinner in front of the sports only TV. After dinner, when I am finishing up doing the dishes, the house phone rings and round two of the fun begins.

Aces starts to rock up from the Barcalounger TV throne to go after the phone. As we've both learned over the summer, he might as well get up and answer the phone because no one really calls for me on the home anyways. Anyone I know who wants to get a hold of me calls or texts my cell, or uses the internet like a normal person.

"Hello, Dean house." Aces listens for a heartbeat, before rolling his eyes up to the sky. "Sure hold on for a second."

"It's for you." Aces hands over the phone with a shrug. "Some guy?"

I take the phone and am immediately suspicious, cause no one good ever calls for me on the Raisins home number. I have to wonder if it is "The Call?" The one phone call that I have been dreading for years of fears. To let me know that Donna Momma has finally succumbed to the sadness madness that plagues her bad Insanistani blood. That she has finally taken the easy way out of her War on Sobriety.

"Zup, this is..." I intone in irritation.

"Hello sir, may I speak to Darren please?" The overly polite voice on the other end of the line sounds vaguely familiarish, and almost too cool for the pool.

"Yeah? Who's this?" I snap back suddenly suspicious.

"Hey Darren, it's Brad." Followed by a long sigh. So now I'm sure it's Brad Weston, lifeguard-at-large.

"Yeah, what do you want Brad?" As if I don't already know why Brad is suddenly calling me at the old folks home.

"I heard there was some trouble today with my brother Bobby and Corky?" I hear the deep gravitas in his voice. Long gone is the cool pool Brad, because now it's a personal problem ...just like I wanted it.

"Okay, so what the hell do you want Brad? You calling cause want a piece of me, too? Cause if that's the case? Bring it on bro! You know where I stay, and you know where I'll be tomorrow and the next day. Oh, and tell your little pedo pal Chad I said ... 'shits on now Cap't'. And ain't nothing more needs to be said till one of us is dead and the other is in jail." I hang up before Brad can even start his "Why can't we all get along?" singsong bullshit.

As soon as I am off the phone, I can immediately sense Aces is not pleased with this introduction to Conversational Hate 101. The ancient Irish art of pissing your opponent off so bad they make the first fatal mistake without thinking things through. While we have an understanding about the "rough language" issue around the house. But with Irish out of the house for the night, I am thinking it's time to get real with the old warmonger.

"Is there a problem, you want to tell me about? One that would necessitate that sort of death threat?" Aces eyes me sideways from the Barcalounger throne.

"Yeah, you could say that." I shrug him off back to his sports show.

"So spill." Aces nods me into the mix.

"Your buddy Buzzy sent some of his minions to try to muscle me during study hall. So I smacked the shit out of one of them for ...whatever." I hand him the handheld phone off the charger so he doesn't have to get up for round three. "So unless I miss my guess, the next call will be for you."

"Your good warmonger buddy Buzzy will be calling to make excuses. As to why he told everyone at school my mother is an insane drug addict in rehab." I head towards the back door and the body bag waiting to get beat in the garage. "So have fun with that."

"Excuse me? You did what now? And to who?" Aces blinks up from the ESPN.

"Don't try to play old now, Aces. You heard what I said just fine." I snort on the way out the back kitchen door. "So take the rest of that talking time noise up with Buzzard."

I am really not in the mood for Talking Time with the old warmonger at the moment. But as much as I hate to admit this ...ol' Aces is really not the worst person in the world. Since I've gotten to know him a little since the summer, I have to admit that Aces is a decent enough dude for a war criminal. When he is not being rode roughshod over by the Irish Antichrist. But still, I am not interested in any of his folksy old world wisdoms about whatever.

So I stomp out of the house towards the "guys garage", to beat the crap out of the heavy bag for a while. Cause I'm thinking that I was a little slow on the uptake today, than my normal hit first style? And I really need to get used to hitting things again, before this war really gets going. No thanks to my time here in the Valley of Death, I think I might have become a little softer and slower to violence. And that sort of mentality is not going to do me any favors in the coming war with Captain Midnight and whoever comes with?

I'm not even halfway across the damp grass when I hear the phone ring twice and then abruptly stops. I can only assume that Aces is on the phone now, getting the old "go along to get along" message meant for me.

So I pull open the garage and slip in the bag gloves, and start slowly working over the heavy bag hanging from the rafters. Jab once, punch twice and slip away uppercut, repeat. Upside of my anger is at least the rafters are a little cleaner than they were when I started. Cause every solid strike the hanging heavy bag takes, makes the wood rafters creak and rain down another little dirty shower of dust.

It isn't even five minutes of beating the bag before Aces is at the garage entrance, posting up on the door frame and eyeing me sideways. I ignore the old warmonger as I smack the crap out of the heavy bag, sending it swinging around the garage rafters desperately trying to get away from me.

"Why didn't you tell me about these boys trying to start a fight with you, when you got home?" Aces fires off his opening salvo.

"What the hell would I do that for?" I shrug him off that stupidity. "Why? You gonna get geared up and ride out with me to take care of business? Head down to the Ol Frost and show all the local kids your fancy war death moves, Aces?"

I stop swinging on the bag and eye him hard. I can already see this idea was clearly not on his to-do list. Although I must admit, the idea of ol' Aces firing off a couple of his fancy war death kicks is rather amusing to me.

"Yeah, somehow I didn't think so." I snort. "Besides, like I already told you, I already handled the first contact with the enemy. So now it's the next set of counter strikes that I'm focused on. So unless you're riding with? Why don't you do us both a favor and from here on out let me handle my own fights?"

"Oh, and it's probably not a good idea to ask those questions that you really don't want the answers to." I shake him off the next stupid spot. "You know, whit like ...what did you do at school today? And why is there blood on your boots? Where did you come by all those teeth on that there fancy new necklace you're sporting?" I watch the old guy absorb this and wait to see where his next move is going.

"Then you should know that Buzzy is on his way over here to apologize." Aces quickly switches tracks on me after losing his opening salvo.

"Why?"I grunt between alternating left-right combinations to the head of the heavy bag.

"Because that's how things are done between honorable men, when mistakes have been made." Ace intones. "Face to face."

"Oh okay Aces, well then you have fun being honorable with your little buddy Buzzard. Just let me know how that works out for you." I seethe back between strikes. "But do us both a favor and make sure you get another awesome 'honor favor' out of your good buddy Buzzy. Because between you and me, the last one left a little something to be desired."

"Not just to me, Buzz wants to speak to you as well." Aces sighs almost sadly at this thought. "So can I trust you to listen to what he has to say ...civilly?"

"Naw not on that noise." I snort savagely back, and switch over to elbow slamming the crap out of the body bags throat. "So it'd probably be best if you keep that piece of whit away from me. Cause I don't want his apology ...I want his blazing blood on my hands."

"Darren, enough." Aces shakes his head slowly, letting me know that this "apology" apparently won't involve acquiring my brand new Buzzy tooth necklace.

"So you say?" I stop striking the bag and step back out of the swing to snap kick viciously at the bags ribs in passing, sending down a storm of dust bunnies. "Then do yourself a favor and make sure he understands that if he ...or any of his little bitch boy minions come at me sideways again? One of us is going to the hospital. I just hope his insurance is current, cause I got a real good feeling about this fight."

"Darren, there are other ways to solve problems than with violence." The old warmonger counters evenly.

"Oh yeah?" I start on my knees and elbows combinations. "Name one?"

"Negotiation." He proffers.

"Negotiation?" I scowl back. "Oh, you mean the foreplay and fear tactics, before the shit show starts? Yeah naw not, what else you got?"

"Diplomacy?" He counters.

"Sun Tzu called diplomacy war by another means, usually followed by more war." I snap back between strikes.

"Compromise." Aces counters evenly.

"Compromise what?" I counter back faster. "Buzzard got a hold of the info about Donna Momma either from you? Or from his mother-in-law through Irish, right? Then Buzzed shared that information with his little henchmen Brad'n'Chad and all the other little lapper assholes he coaches. Then they all thought it would be hella funny to come at me sideways and start shit with me during study hall?"

"So no offense to your buddy system, old bro? But the only compromise here is to either fight back or bend over and take it in the butt with a broken bottle." I can see Aces blanch slightly at this rough visualization. "But if you see something in between those choices, you make sure to let me know. Oh, and please don't say forgiveness next, cause I don't do that shit...ever. I do revenge, vendetta and vengeance. I find that helps me sleep much better at night."

"Cause in case you hadn't noticed, I actually like to fight." I back a roundhouse into the bag hard enough too rain rafter dust down. "I find it solves a lot of my problems. Especially, when there is only one side left standing in an argument over who was right. I think back in your day they call that victory? Ergo violence solving stuff since Cain won that first argument with Able way back in the day. Turned out Able wasn't very able after all, huh?"

"And I can assume that you're faultless in all this, are you?" Aces eyes me accusatorily.

"Not even close." I shake off the "two sides to every story" bullwhit that I can feel coming on with a vengeance. "But unlike these San Fall flocks, I don't intentionally start static ...but I am more than happy to finish it." I give the heavy bag a final kidney shot that I know will make the bag piss blood for a week.

"I mean seriously Aces, think about this for a second?" I point out the obvious stupidity of the situation. "So if these assholes are not just trying to make me look bad for fun? Then what is the point of all this? Just drop Donna Momma is a druggie on me for whits and giggles? Show me that they can get at me? Threaten me? To what end?" I move in on the bag and begin my cantering jabs.

"I do not know the answer to that." Aces freely admits.

"Well, I do." I snap back between combination jabs. "This is all because I don't take shit. I don't want to be on Buzzy's little special swim team. So that assholes like Brad'n'Chad can lord over me, treating me like crap and call it coaching. Thinking I will take it, cause they believe I might actually care that people find out that my flocked up mother is taking another stab rehab? Again?" I shake this off savagely.

"Maybe you haven't figured this out about me yet, so let me clear this up for you, old Bro? I don't give a whit what any of these San Fall flocks think of me or mine. Or anyone else." I shake my head to make the message clear ...and that "anyone" also includes you and the Irish Antichrist, old Bro.

"All the people in this world that I give the slightest about? All already know that my sad excuse for a mother is a total screw up, on her second stab back at rehab."

"And that's part of the problem right there, people like you and Buzzy ...and Irish? You all assume that people like me give a shit about that 'what it looks like to other people' stuff? Cause honestly, I'm not embarrassed Donna Momma went to rehab again at all. Hell, I'm glad she went, cause maybe this time they will finally fix her insane brain." I snort. "But trust, I'm not holding my breath underwater for that. But hey stranger things, right?"

"Oh, and another thing," I cut him off before he can even start to share. "You think being here, being judged by these San Fall flocks is the worst thing I've been through in my life?"

I let that truth sink in hard on him because he knows damn well he's had a hand in my flocked up life.

"I know it's not." Aces intones sadly.

"Okay Aces, well try this on then." I eye him cold. "All this bullshit with your buddy Buzzy and Boys? Yeah, that whit is not even close to the top ten bad life moments for me to date. But depending on how this shit shakes out, maybe it makes the top twenty ...at best?"

"But that's only because I got you standing here? Pushing at me for a peaceful solution with your war buddy Buzzy and his little flocking minions. Cause between you and me, it's not the getting flocked over by your buddy Buzzy that is pissing me off the most." I emphasize punching hard thru the bag, leaving it bouncing back and forth. "It's the fact that because of you and Irish, I just may end up having to take it, in order to avoid getting sent into foster care."

And if I can manage to survive that for a minute? Then on to my first stretch in Juvenile Detention.

"That is not going to happen, Darren." Aces snaps back harder than expected.

"Oh really? And how are you gonna stop that from happening, Aces? Especially when it's your buddy Buzzy coming at me sideways?" I smile slices right into his "I'll be there for you thru thick and thin" bullshit.

"After I bust his bones into broken, and stomp his flocking face into pieces for my new necklace. Then when he calls the cops on me, instead of taking the beats his owed, like the little bitch you know he is? What's what then, grandpa guy? Where you gonna be standing tall on that one?"

Aces head jerks up and he glares at me.

"Cause from everything I've seen of San Fall? All these flocks around here are nothing but weak ass little snitch bitches." I snort. "Oh they know how to start whit real good, but they have no idea how to get shit done."

"Because you know damn well they're all about calling the cops when they get in over their heads. Buzzy and the Plunger Boys are all little snitch bitches, who only care about staying safe. They wouldn't last a minute back home in Sunset. Trust." I try to shake him off once more from his happy hate place.

"But not you, right Aces?" I nod off towards his wardroom house. "Cause you've seen how whit gets done in the real wide world. Hell, you got a whole collection of war death medals up on your wardroom wall that says you know all about how death gets done in the real. That whole philosophy of 'don't die for your Tribe unless you have to ...much better to make the other guy die for his tribe', right?"

"General Patton." Aces intones dryly.

"Naw not. Dat Cat, Micky Dora." I counter back.

"Never heard of him." Aces shrugs.

"Endless Summer, you should check it out sometime, it's enlightening," I smirk across the garage. "Back in the day, Micky Dora ruled the beaches from Ocean Beach San D, to Santa Cruz ...and beyond. Dat Cat knew how to ride or die, and anyone who stepped up to talk trash got smashed down on the rocks, no mercy. Veni, Vidi, Vindico ...you feeling me yet, Old Bro?"

"You think you're the only one who's upset over this?" Aces eyes turn frosty. "You think you're the only one this bothers?"

"Yeah, actually I do." I turn on him. "So unless you want to prove me wrong? Then put up or..." I leave the rest hanging out for him to figure.

"...or shut up." Aces finishes dryly.

"You said it, not me. Cause as far as I am concerned this only ends two ways ...Ride or Die." I tap the tattoo's across my collar bones. "Oh, and I just remembered I don't give a shit one way or another. So you and Buzzy can work this shit out among the old warmonger crowd and just leave me the hell out of it. Or get out of my way and let me do my thing, my way."

"But before you give me any more of your folksy old world wisdoms ...answer me this?" I nod down at his scared up knuckles, that look like they have seen some good times of their own. "Back in the old war days, if someone said something bad about your mother? How did that go for them, Aces?" I dead eye him hard. "Lots of those negotiations and compromises you're so fond of, huh? Or old school rules? Talk shit ...eat shit?"

I can see the slow smile spread across Aces face and an even slower nod of acceptance of the truth. Yeah, I like Aces for a reason. Cause when everything is said and done, on some level he kinda gets it? Treat me good, I treat you better. But treat me bad? I will treat you way worse.

"So unless you want me to just go down to the street and just wait for Buzzy on the front yard? Save you the trouble of any more Talking Time? I need to warm up now for the next round of negotiation." I roll my neck around to loosen up all the little take a punch muscles and square up on the bag for my fast first strike combinations. "Cause I really need a nice new necklace of teeth as a memento of my time here in San Fall. For when I finally return from whence I came, come Christmas."

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