black. horus enters. stands awkwardly before his son.
yeah i will. and i don't want any girly make-up on my face. horus deposits himself on the bed. hunches over-h13 knees.
after a good night sleep. the light flicks off and the man's silhouette form exits the room.
i got the only mother does this. in the world that i'm not lismary g. lalalala,
i know it. i know it.
what?
what? nothing. it's fine.
what? not here, mom.
i know it, mom. can i go now?
geez! he turns back. plants a kiss on mary's smiling cheeks.
all right, mom. he leaves, merging into the undulating sea of children.
you were late.
the asshole peed on me. i'm dog shit.
get a grip, mom. they arrive home, both storming through the entrance and up the stairs.
can't sleep. he rolls over the sofa, next to his mother. they watch video clips of the foiled bank heist: the crashing chevy, the aerial maneuvers, the sheer invincibility of this man.
don't.
mom.
oh, mom.
what?
principles?
what am i suppose to do?
i wanted.  there were three of them.
he gets away. hancock inhales what's left of his cigarette. blows smoke.
what're you saying?
what?
why're you telling me all this?
geez. horus enters from the hallway, disheveled from sleep. he does not see the superman on his sofa. he continues into the kitchen.
he comes for dinner. close on hancock. close on horus.
you want milk?
it makes mom fart, too. mary chokes on her food. drops her fork. she maneuvers, in the allotted space, for the utensil - and finding difficulty. hancock grabs the table, one arm. lifts it off the carpet and above everyone's head. mary, startled, impressed, all of the above. she picks up the fork.
good arm.
on the right. he leaves to find bladder relief - leaving horus to his family.
what do you think, mom?
mom?
i wanted to kill him.
i want to deck him, just once. so bad i tense up.  like i can't even move.
did not. not crying. it was pissed-off.
thinking. mary goes over to the bed. sits.
no. not really. are you?
me neither. i was thinking, about tomorrow.
i know, mom.  after a good night sleep. he says that but he's the one working every night. does that mean he never feels better? he's always feeling terrible?
mom? she turns.
i got to do what i got to do. she watches him go -curious.
don't mess with me. he struts out of the alley. shifts into a mad sprint, adrenaline taking him away.
o his mouth was. open and he just stared up at me, it hurt that bad. and while he narrates, mary runs her fingers through his hair - a mother grooming her child. meanwhile, horus listens concerned.
"don't mess with me." mom, remember that guy in the cop movie.  he said that?
it doesn't hurt, i told you.
he said tomorrow, he'd pi ck me up again.
god, my friends will freak. horus freezes - fades back to his meal, unheard.
i like it long.
it's almost eight. dad's late.
like this? how do you make a fist?
mom's going butcher your hair.
oh, mom. i want to talk to him. tell her, hancock. hancock shrugs a "what can i do."
yeah, right. i know. i got to do what i got to do.
mom? mary bursts from her perch - regroups, awkwardly. aaron stands in the hallway, his hair still wet from the shower.
my mouth. it's starting to swell. i think he loosened a tooth. mary - maternal duty calls.
mom.'
the toast's burnt.
we're late.  you forgot the corn chips. mary serves up-the eggs - sunny side up. 1. and down.  and all over the place.
you forgot the corn.  . ouch!
you having your period, mom? she responds with a brisk slap to the head.  smack.
are you all right, mom?
you're acting weird.
i'm late for class. go home, mom. i think it's time for your nap. aaron leaves. pensive, mary begins her walk.  to the boardwalk.
hi.
i saw you walking. where were you today? you said you'd.  be there. hancock - looking over aaron's abused frame.
where are you going? can i go?
those assholes got me in the bathroom, today.  and you said you'd pick me up at school. hancock turns. he's upset now.
dad, are you wasted?
he is wasted. horus rises, under great difficulty. feels his way to the sofa. when mary tries to assist, he waves her away.
but dad.
thanks, mom.
mom. tomorrow always feel bette r.
probably.
don't you fucking touch her! mary screams. hancock cringes, says.
don't touch her you bastard!
no! mom!
let me go you bastard.
dad! he breaks loose - running into his father's arms, crying.
i'm sorry dad. i didn't know what to do.
i'm sorry, dad. i'm sorry.
damn right, dad. we got to get her. horus at the screen - oblivious. "what can i do?"
dad. you ever hear about the fox and the bloodhounds?
no! mary screams in the background.  horns. hancock. they turn to witness the de-physicalization of killybegs textile. they begin to crumble, weakened by the wear bricks.  beams.  and tear of recent artillery. mary braces herself as the floor beneath begins to give. it slips.  she screams.  and collapses, taking the rest of the building with it. a crash, followed by a cloud of billowing smoke. mary is no more.