Born with knife in hand, Bruiser had a tendency to cut himself. While in middle school he witnessed his best friend stealing baked beans from a lunch pale. This was quite a trying time for Bruiser. He had a very deep sense of justice yet his loyalty to family and friends was unbounded. Thrown in the midst of a difficult moral quandary he turned to cutting to ease the pain. It has been a curse that has haunted him since. His father doesn’t seem to mind the gore, he is allowed to cut twice a day for half an hour but only if his completes his homework.
He has recently begun dating a girl named Ellen from his school. She’s just shy of ten years his senior and they share homeroom together. Bruiser pinches her butt when they salute the flag; he gets an odd mix of arousal and patriotism that he can’t explain and feels only marginally guilty for. He has also joined the school choir but has found singing to be so far removed from just talking loudly that he’s had feelings of quitting.
Standing among his choir he feels strong, much like that of an ox watching over the fields of Nebraska. He often thinks of farming. He longs to feel the seeds drip from his hand while providing a steady income for his step-children. Alas, this is a far off dream. He must settle for crunching cheese-its and sprinkling them over a box of shredded paper at his local Kinko’s.
He feels a bit separated from the other children in his class. Probably because he’s the only one who has a court appointed “Boston Terrier Depression Companion” as a part of a depression therapy developed by college psychology students that lasted less than a semester. The experiment is now defunct, but Bruiser still must carry the dog around daily in its “Happy Day Excursion Bag.”
According to his classmates and his dog, nine out of ten times, while bruiser is wearing pants, his fly is down.