Arthur was in his study, trying to have a conversation with his twelve year old son, Clay. He had been waiting for this day, as a father, for what seemed liked forever. Arthur told Clay about ", a tradition that was passed down by the head of his household to his firstborn son. He felt the rush of dopamine, the real, authentic sensation of paternity, and then he passed it to his son.

Clay was shaking like a leaf as he held it, looking over it carefully. He seemed scared of the the thing. There wasn't a bullet in it, Angela always made sure there wasn't anything dangerous in the household.

Clay gave the gun to his father. He started rambling about 'thou shalt not kill', the tenth commandment, and all the lost commandments. Arthur could barely tolerate it. Angela pumped their son's head full of religious ideas, "lost commandments", everything.

Arthur had gave up on God years ago. He was an atheist, he didn't believe in miracles after the ten miscarriages that his wife, Angela, and went through. He felt that God would help fix their marriage and sort his son out if he existed. If he was real, he would've answered his prayers.

If he was real, he wouldn't have to avoid saying words without Angela getting reactions from it. He just didn't believe, and hearing his son turn down the Puppington tradition, it just made all of his feelings come crashing down at once.

He told Clay that he needed to grow up and be a man before leaving his study and shutting the door behind him. "God.." he muttered, irritably.

Angela was sat on the sofa in the living room. Above the sofa, was a little wooden sign hanging on a wall, it was carved with a bible verse about the importance of family and entering heaven. Arthur hadn't bothered to read it in a long, long time.

"God," he said, again. "Clay needs to be a man. He couldn't even take the gun from me without shaking like a leaf, quaking, all terrified that he was breaking some sort of commandment. I don't know how he'll survive the real world, Angela." Arthur sighed.