The night is cold and quiet in the trailer park, but in your mind, the words of your father, F.P. Jones, keep ringing. “It’s time, Jug. You must take your place as leader of the Serpents.” But how can I do that? I’m not like him. I’ve never been comfortable in that world, nor do I have the aggression or presence that seems necessary to lead a gang like that.

Unable to sleep, you leave your room and sit on the porch. The fresh air does nothing to clear the confusion in my head. How could someone like me, a guy who prefers to lose himself in books and write about the fringes of society, be the leader of the Serpents? You look at the snake tattoo on your arm and feel more disconnected than ever. “I’m his son, but will I be able to be what he needs me to be? What the Serpents need me to be?” Doubts consume you as the weight of expectations seems to sink you deeper and deeper into the darkness of the night.