Entry 6: J.D. and his Dad: The Entrepreneurs

J.D. is a beefy 12 year old with an underbite, a pot belly, and huge canine incisors. He looks exactly like Pumba from the Lion King. Our consulting psychiatrist called him a "feral child," the first and only time I've ever heard him use that term.

One day we took J.D. and some other kids to the rec room where we have a pool table, ping pong and some donated video games. J.D. took one look at the pool table and yelled, "You rack'em, I crack'em!" and proceded to run the table. Every time he made a shot he would feign breaking the cue stick and drinking a beer from the short end. That led me to strike up this conversation:

Me: Hey J.D., where'd you learn to play like that?
Him: The Showdown Tavern, baby!
Me: What are you doing when you pretend to drink something?
Him: Downing some beers, what the hell do you think?
Me: Aren't you a little young to be drinking beer?
Him: No. I drink whiskey, too. My dad wanted me to get wasted.
Me: Jesus Christ! Why?
Him: So I could kick some ass. I could kick anybody's ass.
Me: What are you talking about?
Him: Me and my dad made lots of money that way. If I was fighting, everybody had to bet on me cuz I got so crazy.
Me: Who did you fight?
Him: All the kids who lived there. I beat some ass.
Me: It sounds like a pit bull fighting ring.
Him: That's how it started, but our dog got his ass beat and died.

I ended the conversation after that little gem.