Lakeview Terrace

Samuel L. Jackson is a complete badass on his worst day. If he were sick in bed with Mono and Swine Flu, he’d still be more of a badass than the entire rest of the planet combined. He could out badass anybody at any time.

To put such a colossal badass in the role of a badguy? It makes one hell of a fucking badguy. Scary as shit. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to cross him. Ever. Goddamn. I would either follow the guy’s rules, or move to the complete opposite side of the world as soon as possible.

Then. Then, my friends, you give the motherfucker a badge and power. He didn’t really need it, because his personal authority exceeds many things that a mere mortal could dream of pulling off, but some crazy sonofabitch decided to make this guy capable of legally carrying a firearm. Again, not that he needs it. He doesn’t even need the handcuffs. His very presence can paralyze a person in their tracks. See? No handcuffs required. No gun required because he’ll just give you a heart attack in one glance.

Now that I’ve thoroughly discussed His Royal Awesomeness, I can get to the actual story.

I’d thought it was going to be more than a little slow at the start. I was wrong. I thought it was going to be very difficult to make a story revolving around suburbanites dramatic or dark. I was wrong. I thought it was going to be a little dull. I was wrong. I also thought I probably wouldn’t like it, despite SLJ. Wrong again.

Boy am I happy to be wrong.

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