When it hit Gord’s mother it was quick and vicious, a Doberman going straight for the jugular.  One day she was complaining about a pain in her abdomen, somewhere just under her pronounced stomach.  Her voice echoed off of the dinged-up walls and ran right through Gord’s head.  She complained.  She always complained.  Gord’s life up until that point was a litany of complaints laid at his feet by his mother.  Her head was sore.  Her feet ached.  Her neck was kinked from having to hover . . .

        When it hit Gord’s mother it was quick and vicious, a Doberman going straight for the jugular.  One day she was complaining about a pain in her abdomen, somewhere just under her pronounced stomach.  Her voice echoed off of the dinged-up walls and ran right through Gord’s head.  She complained.  She always complained.  Gord’s life up until that point was a litany of complaints laid at his feet by his mother.  Her head was sore.  Her feet ached.  Her neck was kinked from having to hover . . .