LogFAQs > #888152765

"Okay," you begin. "I think what made the hostages so compassionate towards Denzel Washington is that they knew why he was doing what he was doing."
"I call dibs on having a black child that needs a heart transplant!" Marco exclaims.
"You can't use the actual plot from John Q, it doesn't apply to you," you tell him. "Besides, we're not even in a hospital."
"Fine," Marco retorts. "I call dibs having a black child who needs three bags full of money."
"I'm gonna... I'm gonna come back to you," you tell Marco before turning to Bryant. "Why are you here?"
"I got text about a job. Said that there was some building that was nearly destroyed across town, all the cops were preoccupied, and this should be an in-and-out kind of gig. Clearly he was wrong though."
You have to make a considerable effort to not bury your face in your hands. Your little diversion downtown is the reason the bank's being robbed. You soldier on and say, "No, not about that. Why are you robbing banks in the first place?"
Bryant thinks for awhile. "I uh... I made a joke once."
"What do you mean?" you ask.
"I grew up in an area where not many kids are destined for success," Bryant begins. "And the school administration knows that, the teachers know it, but I don't think the kids know it. When I was in first grade, the teacher was explaining something to the class, and I made a joke. I don't even remember what the joke was anymore, but the entire class laughed. I'd never felt that before. It was just me and my mom growing up, but she had to work a couple jobs just to keep us going, so she was always too tired to laugh. Making all these kids laugh at once made me feel like... I don't know... like I was on top of the world, I guess."
You see that all of the hostages have their attention turned to Bryant.
"Anyways, I wanted to keep that feeling going. So I made more jokes in class, got more laughs, and continued to feel great. Sure, I got in trouble for it now and again, but when a note was sent home for my mother she never really came down on me about it." Bryant takes a deep breath. "But what I didn't know was that I already had a reputation in the teacher's circle as one of the kids who wasn't going to make it. They assumed I didn't want to learn, and given the area I lived in, the teachers decided to focus on the ones that did. My mom was too tired to discipline me, too tired to tell me to shut up and listen for a change, so I became sort of a class clown. I remember when I was in middle school, I tried to stay late to understand a math problem, but the teacher just told me that if I wanted to learn maybe I shouldn't have been fooling around in class. And that he would only help me if I brought along the other two dozen kids I had distracted from learning that day."
"What a dick," you say.
"I know, right?" Bryant agrees. "Anyways, since convincing twenty five other kids to stay after school with me wasn't going to happen, I continued on the path I was on. After awhile, people had the thought that if I acted out in class, maybe I'd act out in other ways too. I was drinking and smoking pot by age twelve, had a couple scrapes with the cops... I dropped out when I was sixteen. I tried to get a job, but at this point I had a bit of a reputation around town as a smartass and a burnout, so no one would hire me. A year after I dropped out I just asked my mom why she let me do it. Why did she let me drop out? Why did she never discipline me or tell me to shape the fuck up when I came home drunk or high before I was old enough to drive? And she told me, 'It wouldn't have done any good, you've always been like this.' And that's when I realized. Not only did the teachers give up on me, but my own mother did on the very day that first note was sent home."
You nod solemnly. This is John Q as fuck.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.