This is a poorly constructed idea, if poor editing and grammar bother you, turn back now!
You’ve been warned.
There they are
He walks up to them
Immediately he turns to his son and yells,
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Go wait in the car while I convince this lady to press charges, I didn’t raise a thief!”
Staring his son down as he sulked away
As soon as he was sure he could not be heard, he turned to the lady and said,
“Please don’t press charges”
The fear in his tone, the shame…
“I’ll leave it to you then,” she replied tersely, then turned and bustled away.
He paused, meditating for a moment; he didn’t know how to face this…
What is morality? how can I guide this child?
With a sigh he looked to the car, at his son, who had an absent, intentional, angry, inward glare.
He saw a flash of guilt overcome his child’s eyes, although he tried to hide it. It was there, it was growth, maybe this time punishment would work? Maybe this wild youth could learn consequences, could feel empathy.
Getting into the car, he sat down, staring straight forward, brow swelling,
“What have you got to say for yourself?” He shouted.
In a prepubescent screech his son yelled, “what do you care, ouch!”
He couldn’t help it, he cared to much, he smacked the back of his kids head and shouted, “only thing worse than a thief is a liar, don’t you lie to me, what the fuck is going on with you?”
There was a pause, time stood still, vacant, then his son spoke in a serious monotone,
“Dad? Do we even have free will?”