“It’s like he doesn’t even care any more,” Tommy’s mother Gertrude said, incredulous. “All the other graduations he’s had—pre-school, first grade, second grade, third grade, fourth grade and so on—he’d smile and wave to us from up on stage. This time, nothing. He didn’t even make eye contact.”
“Frankly, I’m getting sick of all the fucking praise.” Tommy confided as he stole a drink from a flask hidden beneath his robe. “All my life, even if I struck out in a baseball game, it was like I hit a grand slam or something ... ‘Nice try, Tommy!’ my ass.”
Most children with over-supportive parents like Tommy’s are totally unprepared to deal with the strife of real life situations after they cut the cord and remove their lips from their mommy's teat. “What I needed growing up was a good kick in the ass once in a while. What I got more often than not was a timeout and some more coddling." Tommy said, dripping with sarcasm. "Two things I’m sure will serve me real well in the Army.”
“The Army!” Gertrude Wosniak screamed. “Your father called in favors at Duke! You’re going to college.”
“Fuck you, mom.” Tommy spat, tossing his mortarboard to the sky as he walked away.
The Ledger extends well wishes to all the area’s graduates.
