SomethingLong:

Good Deeds

As I walked out of Southeast Community College on a bright 77 degree August Monday 11:30 a.m. I scanned the parking lot looking for my silver Ford Taurus. With an intent gaze I rotated my head witnessing students getting into their cars as they talked on cell phones. Some of these individuals appeared to believe that if they stopped talking even for a second their phone would commence the self destruct sequence killing them and any passerby. As I turned and began facing the building again I noticed a large girl sitting on a bench near the entrance I had just left.

“How didn’t I notice a big woman crying at waste level?” I thought to myself. As I stood on the cracked surfaced of the parking lot this mysterious girl was relieving about a pound of water via the tear ducts. “You should go see what’s wrong with her.” My conscience said as the ego it was connected to already begun to form a reply. “Are you serious? What if you try to go over there and help her only to have her develop a psychotic crush on you?” I admit to feeling embarrassed at this thought as it was cold and unfeeling but the unease it had brought with it would not depart. “Look at her,” the ego said, “she’s got to weigh about 200 pounds and she’s barely above five feet tall! Her skin’s as white as fresh snow, her curly sleek black hair’s got blonde roots, her eyes are all red from crying about some stupid shit, and all her black Goth clothes make her look like she should be at a funeral…..like…..in the casket.” Sure I was no Casanova but standing at six foot tall with flowing brown hair and a reasonably crafted face I knew I belonged in a different league than this girl. Sure I had a gut too but it was smaller and from beer not Hostess. “Yeah,” I said to myself, “fuck this bitch. I’ve got to go home and play my Xbox.” Turning around to continue the everlasting search for Taurus Grey I placed my right foot in front of the left and began my departure, but somehow my conscience hadn’t been banished to the black hole I thought I had thrown him in. He must have grabbed the outer rim and shimmied his way back up into my skull because all of a sudden he twisted my head back around to mystery girl and her saddened tears. ‘But what if she gets a crush on me?” I asked my conscience. “Just tell her your not interested you god damn pussy and see if you can help her! And if that doesn’t work just tell her you’re gay. It’s not too far from the truth.” It replied confidently. Feeling like I might be torn apart and scattered over the parking lot in one gory mess I stood and tried to decide where to lend my support. As I pondered this dilemma the better part of me rose my left hand and propelled it at my face causing a brilliant yellow flash with a black back drop to replace my vision temporarily. This cleared my thoughts and I began approaching her to see what aid I might be able to supply.

“Hello my name’s Bruce,” I said with the best forgery of a smile ever to be seen in Nebraska, “is there anything I could do to help?” I asked sitting down on the bench to her left. “It’s no big deal, I cry all the time.” She said, “I don’t think you can really help me with that can you?” Feeling at a loss for words I reached up in my anus hoping to find something to throw at her and only came up with “Well there’s gotta be something that’s making you cry. Maybe it would really help if you talked about it.” Miss Goth just sat next to me staring at the ground almost seeming to radiate depression from every pore. “I heard that if you cry too much you’re tear ducts will dry out causing your eyes to wither away and die making you a very sad blind chick. I heard that that’s what happened to my Grandpa Jake after watching Old Yeller with his grandkids for three days straight.” “Why would they watch a movie for three days straight?” They didn’t but don’t you feel a little bit more like talking now that I’ve made a joke with you? I mean, don’t you feel the breeze that just picked up? My joke did that and one day science will be able to prove it.” Miss Goth’s sad face broke minutely for a small laugh before resetting into its worn ground. “What’s your name,” I asked her. “Mille,” she responded. “Well Mille, do you think you’d feel better if you talked about what’s going on?” Mille shifted uncomfortably on the bench before speaking, “Heithcliff he’s……he’s……he’s dead!” She covered her face and lurched forward sobbing into her hands. “Who’s Heithcliff if you don’t mind me asking?” “He was…….. my cat. I’ve had him since I was in third grade. He was so important to me and now…..and now he’s gone!”

As Mille continued sobbing on herself I slid my hand in what I hoped was just a friendly gesture onto her left neighboring shoulder. “I know what you’re going through, I’ve lost some important pets in the past. “But he was the only pet I’ve ever had. There’s nothing that can replace him nothing can be as sweet, funny, caring, and intimate as my Heithcliff! I’m all alone now!” I removed my hand from Mille’s shoulder so I could rest my elbows on my thighs before beginning my own story. “You know I had a pet that I think I loved as much as you loved Heithcliff.” Mille turned her head looking at me skeptically and possibly a little angry. “Now don’t laugh at me here but I used to have this Border Collie that I really loved named Bunkies. He had black fur with white and brown tufts surrounding his belly and legs. My parents had bought Bunkies when I was only two years old. So I basically grew up thinking of him as a never ending part of the family. Well, when I was a sophomore in high school my older sister’s family came over to celebrate thanksgiving. We had just finished eating the lunch portion and were all sitting down to watch a movie. Now my sister takes sleeping pills because of her insomnia and usually carries her pills in her purse. Well, the previous night she had taken one and left the bottle on the bathroom sink. Sometime from that night to the next days lunch her seven year old daughter Cassandra had grabbed the bottle thinking it was Mommy’s candy or some kind of treat. What we all were unaware of was that while we were all eating and giving Bunkies table scraps, Cassandra was holding out some pills beneath the table’s surface. During the movie I got up to go to the bathroom. When I flicked on the light I found my dog, my friend, with his face submerged in the toilet water. The poor guy fell asleep while getting a drink and was just big enough to retain his head underwater while his muscles relaxed, slumping the majority of him to the floor.”

Mille’s face was one of horror as her eyes widened and mouth gaped open before her hands covered it up. “Oh my God that’s horrible,” she said. “That’s not all of it though it was the worst after the ordeal was over. You see after I found Bunkies, pulled him out, and briefly examined him I told the rest of the family. My sister became afraid almost instantly as she couldn’t wake Cassandra up. As she lifted her daughter up the bottle of pills fell from her pocket to the floor. The whole family was in a panic as we rushed her over to the E.R. My sister kept hysterically repeating that she would never take another pill again for the rest of life over and over again. After examining Cassandra the doctor said that she had indeed swallowed one of my sister’s pills but would be alright. He said that if she had taken one more her chances of survival would have decreased considerably. After I had found out that she was going to be alright all I could think about was my dead friend lying soaking wet on our bathroom floor at home.” “That’s an awful story,” Mille said with sympathy in her voice. “Why did you say not to laugh at you when you first started?” “Well, after about a week it happened the kids at school must’ve thought that I had healed or just didn’t give a shit because I heard quite a few jokes about it. My peers thought it was funny which in a sick way, that I can now mildly appreciate, it was. Because how many people’s pets do you know died from falling asleep head first in the toilet?” At that Mille’s iron frown broke away into a smile. We sat there and talked for half an hour about pets, friends, and movies until she realized that her next class had already begun. Parting with a promise to speak again I started out to find my pimp ass Ford Taurus with a new thought going through my head as if on the spin cycle. “Helping people makes you feel good!” With the rest of the day clear I thought I’d go and visit my grandmother in the nursing home. Due to work, school, and all my other activities I hadn’t been able to make it out there in over six months. She was still alive, I was certain of that, but any aspect of her well being was unknown to me.

St. Mary’s Retirement Home was by definition a religious retirement home. Sure there were sections for the elderly who were nonreligious but you can bet that when you check into your room there will be a picture of Jesus the all mighty and all of his friends there to greet you; including your very own complimentary Bible. The staff will also come by every Sunday to invite you to mass thinking that even if you didn’t believe in God last week you might change your mind by the next. Which in fact my grandmother told me was true. “All of these people” she said” are facing death and the idea of a Hell or worse yet, absolutely nothing, scares the shit out of them. Little pussies don’t believe in God for 80 years and all of a sudden when they have a week to live their practically shitting out scripture into their bedpans.” My grandmother was a devote catholic for over 40 years until she lost all three of her sons in Vietnam and was left with a young daughter and a husband that was just waiting for his final heart attack. And after that heart attack came she renounced God claiming him to be the greatest fictional character ever to be created on Earth. I don’t think it was that quick or simple but it’s enough for this. I should mention that my Nana is pretty close to pure evil. In fact she could probably be an arch villain in a comic book. Well after she recovered from her ‘dark period’ which I hear was a traumatic experience for many of my family members she began enjoying the downfall of others…kind of creepy. But yes St. Mary’s Retirement Home. It was a religious community that held mainly religious people and my grandmother hated it. She once told me that when people fell into comas the attending nurse would sit and read aloud out of the Bible for hours. I told her that maybe that comforted those people and gave hope to the staff and the rest of the community. She gave me this disgusted face when I said that and said in a haughty voice that the only reason they did that for everybody was so they could shock out some new conversions in the community. “In fact,” she said later on when getting back on the subject, “if anybody read the Bible to me when I was in a coma I think that it would be the right motivation to make me come back and wake up…so I could punch that attending nurse in the face.” Grandma” I had said in shock “why are you so angry all the time?” “Because,” she replied bitterly “I was cheated in life and I want to cheat the rest of the world out of what should have been given to me.” That’s when I left for the first time realizing my Grandmother was either crazy or evil. As I stated, it was the latter.

As I entered St. Mary’s Retirement Home with the intention of raising old Granny’s spirits two medics passed by wheeling what I presumed was a dead body with a sheet over it. Feeling uncomfortable and a bit more aware of my own morality I walked up to the receptionist and requested a visit with Grandma. I got a nifty Visitors name tag without my name…so I guess it’s just a Visitors badge…well I got one and walked over to Granny’s room. “Who are you and what do you want with my beliefs!?” Is what welcomed me as I entered her room. “I’m your grandson Bruce and I don’t want anything to do with your beliefs.” She rose from her bed into a sitting position, squinted her eyes, and upon recognizing me waved her hand in a dismissing gesture. “What do you want?” Her tone was harsh and void of feeling. “I just wanted to see how my only living grandmother was doing today and what’s happened in the past six months.” I innocently responded. “Well I’m still alive as you can see.” She said as if it were a fact I could look up in the local library. And then her tone shifted to a more satisfied and wicked version of itself. The voice she loved to use, her true voice. “Unlike others” is what she had said next.

Looking at her puzzlingly I began to ask what she was talking about when she interrupted me. “Did you see the latest one of God’s people being escorted into Heaven via a rolling bed and a cheap stale sheet?” She could see the look of surprise on my face and it pleased her into a smile that disturbed me. “That was Martha Conell” once again to the matter of fact voice “she lived a few rooms down, had a bad heart.” I started to ask “what does that have to do” when I was interrupted once again. “She should have had more self discipline otherwise she never would have let herself get so worked up.” Once again I started “what are you talking” and was interrupted. “Well she had been very popular around here you know. Converted almost every new nonbeliever that came into this place in a matter of a week. She thought that she was so righteous. Well…until…..” and this is when my grandmothers face got real ugly. She smiled in a satisfactory way that somehow revealed her bitterness towards the world’s population…not to mention a few of her teeth that made her resemble a carnivorous animal. Once she had begun to smile her cheeks rolled up her face slanting her eyes into the fashion of a demon. “That is to say until she was faced with a simple discussion between two adults about whether or not religion was a complete falsehood made up by man to comfort himself about his own inevitable death. That was one topic she just couldn’t control herself on. The way she was acting you’d have thought she was eight instead of 93…especially when she made that frightened look as she started to go.” Grandma was getting excited now, her face glowed and she hunched in her chair gripping the arms with unnerving ferocity. “Oh I couldn’t help myself I had to lean into her ear and ask her where her faith was. She just looked at me with her eyes wide open trying to comprehend what was happening and the look of horror stretched across her face. Oh how I wish I could have taken a picture but it happened to fast. That’s why I’m keeping my camera out on the nightstand now. To be ready……just in case.”

By this time grandmother’s face was radiating with a sinister joy. I then realized that she was more evil than I had ever imagined. She had to be stopped before she killed anymore innocent Christians. But what could I do? “You could unplug her from those machines and see if the smug bitch can maintain life naturally.” My reasonable half commented. “And then she can find out if there’s a Hell or not waiting to argue whether it exists as her face is burned and made to melt like candle wax in a new indefinable method of pain.” I just sat there looking at her for a few minutes imagining her face dripping onto her bed when she suddenly spoke breaking me out of my thoughts. “What’s wrong with you?” She asked suspiciously cocking her right eyebrow. Shrugging my shoulders I simply replied “I just don’t understand how you can resemble Satan so closely.” That got her going. “Satan!” She shouted standing up onto her bed. “Let me tell you about Satan little boy!” “Oh lordy,” I thought to myself, “here it comes. Why didn’t I just say ‘good talk grandma. I love you, gotta go, bye.’ It would’ve been the easiest way out of this crazy woman’s world. ” But instead I got, “You think that everything in this world can be resolved with a please and a thank you! If everyone is nice to each other then peace will overcome! You’re forgetting that I was around to see the Hippies soil that dream like a baby soils his own diapers. You call me Satan because I find joy in revealing the hypocrites that surround us all but what do I do about it?” “You laugh when they die of a stroke in your own room.” I responded. “You’re damn right I laugh! And I hope that you do to when you get to be my age because that’s one of the only things that we have left in this world near the end. The soothing confirmation of being right when challenged by an inferior intellect who isn’t looking for a complicated debate but another fool to just nod and agree with what ever spews from that book and out of their mouth.” Grandmother was getting heated up by this time, throwing out hand gestures as if she were a composer. “In fact,” she continued, “Martha was practically begging for this. She’d always be starting up conversations about religion with me and most of the time they’d end with a nurse escorting her to the infirmary. She knew that a conversation with me could kill her but she just couldn’t stay away. SHE WAS SO UNCERTAIN OF HER FUCKING FAITH THAT SHE HAD TO CONSTANTLY REASSURE HERSELF BY CONVERTING OTHERS! GOD DAMN YOU MARTHA!!!”

This last sentence my grandmother screamed throwing her fist into the air before collapsing onto her bed from exhaustion. Or at least I thought that it was exhaustion. I really wasn’t quite sure. In fact, after watching her for a few seconds I noticed that she wasn’t blinking. Or breathing for that matter. I couldn’t believe it. One moment this crazy relative of mine is jumping on her bed shouting and screaming her atheistic beliefs while slamming poor Martha and the next she’s perfectly resembling the woman she had inadvertently killed 20 minutes ago at the most. My heart was pounding like a bass drum in a death metal band. “I have to get out of here,” I thought to myself. “But before I do anything I have to at least check her out to see if she is in fact dead.” Taking the three whole steps between myself and the bed I sat down and placed my hand on my grandmother’s neck checking for a pulse. Her body was still warm but then again, she had just died. As I started to take my hand away her eyes popped open and her upper torso pistoned up in a split second coming face to face with me. “AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!” was the only intelligible sound coming from either of us until my grandmother gave me an open handed slap across the face silencing me. She kept on screaming for about two more seconds until her eyes rolled up into her head and she fell down permanently. I leapt off her bed and sprinted out of the room, through the hallway, past the receptionist, and out of the St. Mary’s Retirement Home. Hunching over to catch my breath I replayed the scene that had just taken place. My Grandmother had died, and the last thing she had done on this mortal world was bitch slap her only grandson before going on to the afterlife she didn’t even believe in. “Fucking bitch,” I said as I walked to my car past a nun I didn’t see until I heard her gasp. “Oh not you,” I said kindly, “I’m talking about my Grandmother that just died.” I’m not even going to try and describe the look she gave me. Except that it was filled with horror, disgust, and fear. So just mix those together and see if you can come up with something interesting. After getting in my Taurus and driving off I decided that my mission of helping people for the day had officially just been canceled. I also noticed in the mirror that a palm and five fingers were imprinted on the right side of my face. A Grandmother’s loving touch.

Driving down 68th st. I passed the local Wal-Mart and decided to stop by for some groceries. As I was driving out of the parking lot and towards the intersection for 67th St. I became aware of a figure standing on the median close to the red light. He was a disabled veteran according to his cardboard sign and had apparently run out of gas and was in need of money. The man wore a faded brown jacket that was covered in rips and stains, sat in a wheelchair, and harbored a shag rug on his cracked leather face. “I wonder how he drives when he needs a wheelchair,” I thought. “And on top of that, how did he get on that median? There’s no handy access to that thing. The man must have strong arms. I’m sure an addiction to alcohol doesn’t hurt either.” As he routinely scanned the surrounding cars his eyes made their way to mine. Feeling a bolt of sheer panic pulse through my body I jumped slightly making it obvious that the Vet. had had an affect on me. His eyes remained locked in at my position. “Dammit,” I thought to myself, “who just jumps like that when someone looks at you? Christ I acted like someone had come at me from behind for a quick scare. Now he knows you’re weak and if you’re not careful he’ll exploit it to his full advantage.” The Vet. continued staring in my direction as if he thought he could manipulate the weak with his eyes that had seen the bottom of so many bottles and the ugliest souls imaginable. “I can’t judge this guy just by looking at him. He actually might be a real veteran for all I know fallen on hard times and really in need of some gas money. What does that say about me? I’m mentally harassing this man without any background of his life……what if he’s a scanner? If he was I think my head would have popped by now but yes, no more judging people at a first glance or impression.” Feeling better about myself and morally uplifted I broke eye contact with the Vet. briefly to check on the situation with the stop light: still red with no right turns allowed. As I panned my head back over to the Vet. I noticed that he had begun wheeling towards me. Once again panic struck as the realization that a conversation with this man was about to take place. Fearing for the worst I slammed my entire leg on the gas pedal and cranked the wheel to the right trying to avoid this horrible oncoming event. As I sped past the neighboring cars and onto 67th St. I saw the oncoming red truck and only had a split second to close my eyes before the impact came. The truck slammed into the driver’s side of my car sending my Taurus and me to the right side of the street with unrelenting force. As I sat there in my wrecked car looking at my surroundings with blurry vision I saw the Vet. staring at me with a look of content, shaking his head with the beginnings of a cynical smile.

“If only I had been resigned to helping the man instead of ignoring him none of this would have happened,” I told myself. “You also could have looked both ways before jumping into oncoming traffic,” My reasonable side replied, disappointed and ashamed.

After dealing with the angry truck driver who graciously refrained from kicking my ass and the police officer who cited me I began walking home declining the offer from the cop to give me a ride. After I had walked for 3 miles I sat down on a park bench. Catching my breath I raised my arms behind my head to stretch my lungs out to attain maximum capacity. Looking around the park I saw a group of kids playing on one of those playground forts that are split into two connected by an overhead bridge of monkey bars. There was also a teenage couple making out on one of the benches on the other side of the park. A few feet to the right of them I saw a familiar image, a girl hunched over crying into her hands on a bench. It definitely wasn’t Mille, this girl had looks and plenty of them. She looked tan, possibly Hispanic, with flowing black hair and was dressed in a black skirt that stopped about five inches from her kneecaps exposing her luscious thighs. Above was a white tank top that clung to her high B cup possibly low C cup chest. If I had to guess her height I’d guess around 5” 4’. “Now that is one person who truly deserves to be consoled. Maybe she just needs an intimate hug and a night of hot carnal debauchery.” My ego stated. “I bet that’ll stop those tears. I don’t know about the sounds she’s making, those might stay the same. But that’s kind of hot isn’t it? Fucking a bitch when she sounds like she’s crying……but she’s not. Or even if she is that’s cool too, it’s all consensual.” I didn’t even bother arguing with myself. I was right and I was horny. So rising up from the bench I began my walk over to her stopping only briefly to check my breath. Still didn’t resemble feces. That was good.

Approaching the bench I asked the girl if anything was wrong. She lowered her hands looked at me with her green beautiful eyes, smiled, and said “I had a fight with my boyfriend.” YES!!! “Oh I’m sorry to hear that,” I said as I sat down next to her. “What happened? Oh I’m Bruce by the way.” I stuck out my hand and we shook. “Hi Bruce my name’s Lucy.” “So what happened with your boyfriend?” I asked again. “Well,” she began, stroking a lock of hair behind her ear, “Juan and I have been going out for 2 years and he still treats me like a third wheel. He doesn’t let me into his life you know? He’s always leaving with his fucking loser friends without even telling me where he’s going. You’d think that he’d try to include me you know? Like before I just go out and find another man who’s nicer and treats me like the princess I’ve always wanted to be.” “So all of this has just been building up lately?” I asked. “Well yeah, that and I found out that he was with some fucking puta last night. Fucking asshole. I mean look at me.” I did. Very intently. “If you were going out with me would you even look at another woman?” “I can honestly say Lucy that no, no I would not.” I said this with a serious voice that I didn’t even know existed. “I would be infatuated with you and only you. I would slap another woman in the face if she even tried to sleep with me.” This made her laugh and was that a slight blush I saw on her face? I think it was. She brushed my arm with her hand and told me I was sweet. I was. I was also succumbing to an erection. But I didn’t want that included in the conversation…unless she asked to see it. Then I would probably expose myself to this stranger in broad daylight surrounded by children because lets face it, this day sucked and I was getting desperate.

We just sat there and looked at each other for what seemed like hours when I decided to make a move. Leaning forward to give this sad vixen a kiss I was surprised to find myself being propelled the opposite way, off of the bench and onto the ground. Luckily my reactions are still good otherwise my face would’ve been a mask of dirt, grass, and probably pesticides. I know they spray ‘em in the parks. It’s a fact. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO MY GIRLFRIEND ESSA?” Is what I heard as I cleaned off my hands and pants. Obviously I had just had the privilege of meeting the loving and charismatic Juan. “Oh thank God you got here in time Juan.” Lucy said now sounding panicked and scared. “This pervert was just trying to feel me up. If you would’ve gotten here a half hour later he probably would have raped me!” “What the fuck,” I started to say before Juan’s boot made contact with my face rudely interrupting me. “You’re fucking dead shit head!” He exclaimed kicking me again, this time in the stomach knocking the wind out of me. “You think its fun to rape little girls do ya?” I tried to say no but was only able to spout out a stream of used oxygen now in the form of carbon dioxide onto the good man’s shoe. Wait was that blood? “Well it looks like you can’t even talk let alone use that small dick of yours. But just to make sure.” And that’s when the world collapsed in on itself killing off the entire population with a shockwave that started from the testicles, moved up the spine, and attacked the brain making my vision cloudy. Bordering the cloud was a black fog that threatened to take over. I couldn’t let that happen lest I reserve myself to being at the mercy of this man who just had to be a soccer player with those kinds of kicks. That’s when I turned my gaze over to Lucy who believe it or not had straddled the bench and was grinding into it. She was pleasuring herself as her boyfriend beat the living shit out of this stranger who only moments ago was trying to console her. “You…..sick……bitch…..” I muttered lying sideways on the ground tasting grass that had just been sprayed with pesticide God knew how many hours ago. I don’t think Juan was appreciative of my statement towards Lucy. “What the fuck did you say to my girl bandeho?” He said on the pinnacle of rage, clenching his teeth as he spoke. This I knew was not a good sign but my mouth wasn’t finished. “I said she’s a sick bitch and,” BAM! Juan clocked me in the right cheek sending off an explosion of pain in my head making me see a bright yellow flash. “Nobody talks about my girl like that you fuckin’ bitch! Now apologize!” Before I knew it his hands had grabbed my shoulders and hoisted me back to my feet. He then rearranged them so his right was grabbing the back of my neck while the left put a death grip on my shoulder. He was leading me towards Lucy who had by now stopped her bench grinding and was wrist deep in her own genitals. “Lucy this little faggot has something to say to you.” That had an effect on Lucy. She looked up into my eyes with anticipation biting her lips. This sick bitch was about to have an orgasm after her boyfriend had almost disconnected my prostate from inside my ass. But that was only the foreplay. She wanted the apology to finish her off. By saying “I’m sorry Lucy. Please forgive me for being a pervert.” I could send this bitch into a thigh buckling orgasm.

Well, I wasn’t about to let that happen. “I’m so sorry Lucy,” I said sincerely, “I never should have sat next to you.” Lucy’s hands were quite busy now. I could see the waves they were making under her skirt. Her eyes were shut tight and her head was tilted back waiting for the inevitable, my apology. I continued then, “If I had known just how truly fucked up you really are I would have posted a warning sign for the general public/” I had almost finished my apology when everything turned brown right before it turned black. I was unable to finish because Juan had decided that slamming me face first into a tree would make for a better version than my own and would be a fitting way to end our brief relationship. I woke up around three o’clock with a piercing headache. So piercing that I wouldn’t have been surprised to find a chunk of bark sticking out of my head covered in brain, skull, and blood. I felt so terrible getting up. It was like someone had shocked me from inside my head making the world shake and almost fade away. I looked around in a stupor as a stranger passed by revealing a look of disgusted pity. He then reverted back to stone and stared straight ahead so as not to continue making eye contact with my beaten face. “Man I must look terrible.” I thought to myself. That slap my grandma had given me earlier was nothing compared to first a boot and then a tree hitting your face. Not to mention that the bastard had gone for my balls. Cheap son of a bitch. Today was really turning out to be great you know? My car got trashed, my grandma died, and now to top it all off I’m sterile. “If I ever see Lucy again I’m gonna punch her in the face.” I said passing by a pair of concerned Mormons. I felt so tired. I just needed to get home so I could collapse onto my bed and sleep for three years until all mental, physical, and financial damage that had been dealt this day would be erased and forgotten. I needed booze.

I walked two miles before sitting down near a schoolyard to rest for half an hour. I found a well shaded bench and plopped down, closed my eyes, and began to drift into unconsciousness. My journey into sleep was disturbed by the sound of a young boy crying so hard you might have thought the little guy was going to die from dehydration. Shifting up into a sitting position I spotted a small boy with a buzz cut wearing a purple t-shirt sporting a green lizard on a surf board and blue sweatpants that appeared to have pockets and a few holes around the knees. He also had white sneakers with the Velcro straps replacing the standard shoestring. His face reminded me of Spanky from the Little Rascals movie. It was cute but it looked kind of strong too. Well probably when he wasn’t crying at least.

“Hey kid,” I shouted “what’s wrong with you?” He lowered his hands from his face and looked at me from the schoolyard. I don’t know if he was trying to get a notion of whether he could trust me or not but he began to walk towards me, slowly. He was ready to run if I made a move for him. When only a few feet separated us I saw that his face looked what I imagined mine might. Someone had used this kid for aggressive therapy. “What happened to you?” I asked remaining still on the bench. He looked at me kind of funny and responded with, “Me? What about you?” “I asked first buddy.” I said. “My name’s not buddy its Richard.” Was his retort. “And my name’s Bruce nice to meet yah. Now what happened to you Richard you look pretty bad. Richard stared at the ground shuffled his feet and began. “Bobby Gerret and his friends beat me up for no reason. I was just playing on the playground waiting for Mom and Dad to pick me up when they started throwing rocks at me. One hit me in the head and I fell down. Bobby came up to where I was and called me a sissy because I was crying. It hurt!” He said defensively. “Then he started to punch me. And Mike and Tim and Eric were all laughing at me. They,” Richard had to hold back a sob, “they said that they were going to tell the whole school how I was such a little sissy. When they said that I started crying even more and their laughing got louder. I don’t remember much after that. I went away and when I came back I was lying on the gravel over their. And then I started crying again. I wish I could show Bobby what its like to get beat up. I wish I could beat him up to show him.” He stopped talking then making it apparent that that was the end of his story.

“Well,” I said getting up, “I’m sure it doesn’t look like it but I could show you some moves to use against Bobby next time he tries to beat you up.” Richards face looked skeptical but I could understand that. I had to look just terribly abused. “Look if you don’t want any tips” I told him, “then I’m going to take off. I’ve still got a long walk ahead of me and a date with some ice and a bed.” “Alright!” His voice which had before been sullen now sounded like that of a normal child who gets excited over the smallest things. “Teach me how to make Bobby Gerret never want to mess with me again!” I nodded my head. “Ok well the first thing you probably already know. When ever you’re against someone who’s bigger than you it’s completely legitimate to kick them in the balls. Is Bobby bigger than you Richard?” He nodded. “Good. Ok the second thing is that you have to deceive your enemy. Before anybody throws a punch or whenever you stop to talk shit stare into his eyes, balls, neck or whatever. Just make him think that that is where you’re going to hit him. Then you hit him somewhere completely different catching him by surprise. Alright now whenever you want him on the ground do a sweep like this, to get behind him, then kick him right here Richard, behind or to the side of the knee. And after he’s down you have a choice. If there aren’t any girls in the crowd kick him in the face a couple of times to ensure your victory. If there are girls watching you can do a sleeper hold to put him out for a little bit.” Richard had a confused look on his face, “How do I do that sleeper hold thing?” “It’s simple,” I said, “just put your arm on the guy’s throat like I’m doing to you. Then you want to put your other arm on the back of his head and push on it like this. Are you noticing a difference in your ability to breathe?” He nodded and I let him go. “But what if he thrashes around and hits me? Can’t he get out of that hold?” I laughed. “Yeah I guess he could, so I guess even if there are girls watching you should kick him in the face at least once for good measure. Here, try and get out of it when I do it to you. I know I’m bigger but you need to know what it’s like in the hold so you don’t make your own weak enough for Bobby to get out. Are you ready Richard? Alright GO! Come on Richard get out! Shake! Try to get out from ducking! HIT ME RICHARD!” I shouted. “HIT ME AND SEE IF YOU CAN GET OUT! YOU CAN’T CAN YOU!?”

All of a sudden I saw a familiar bright yellow flash for the third or fourth time in one day. A man’s fist had connected with the back of my head making my arms go limp and my composure to sway as I staggered. It also did nothing for my colossal headache. “What the fuck are you doing to my son!?” Richard’s dad said in passionate anger. Holding up my hands in a warding off gesture I replied, “Hey man back off! I was trying to help him learn self defense moves! Just ask him if you don’t believe me.” And that’s when I noticed that the sleeper hold had taken Richard down leaving him an unconscious heap of beat up boy currently being supported by gravel. Which, I noticed, had cut open his forehead when he dropped from his dad punching me in the head. “Self defense moves!” His father yelled. “It looks like he was trying to get away from you!” Holding up my hands I began to say, “Hey man I was just,” But he interrupted. “What were you going to rape him?” The father’s face clenched with blood riveting veins surrounding his face. “You were gonna molest my boy!?” I stepped back slowly, “Now I didn’t do anything to your kid so just settle down.” “Didn’t do anything,” he shouted pointing to the unconscious Richard, “what the Hell do you call that!? I’m sick of reading about you perverts in the paper and never being able to get to any of you. Well I’m gonna fuck you up good boy. Real good.” He sprinted towards me with his right fist held high. Predicting the first punch I side stepped to the right avoiding the bungling man. He went past me skidding on the gravel. “I done had it with you!” He screamed. It appeared that his speech had devolved into redneck territory. “I told you that I didn’t do anything to your kid! Just wait until Richard wakes up and you’ll see!” My words collided and smashed against his body like bugs on a windshield. Richard’s dad lunged at me connecting his fist aggressively with my face. Once again a bright yellow flash occurred and everything went black.

When I woke up Richard and his father were gone. My face felt like there was a foot embedded in it. But at least I wasn’t in handcuffs. That was good. I knew that by now if I wasn’t in jail or in some enraged parent’s trunk that I was probably well off. I decided right then and there that if I EVER saw a kid crying again I would just walk right on past him. Or laugh at him. That’s what I really felt like doing right now anyway, laughing at someone else’s pain. Because mine just wasn’t funny anymore even if there was blood coming out of my lips, ears, and nose. My ears? Just what the fuck had Richard’s dad done to me while I was passed out? I needed to find a mirror. But the journey home still wasn’t complete. Only a few more blocks until I could see my reflection, drink about twenty beers, and sleep for a couple of weeks. “Excuse me.” A small boy said tugging at my pants. “I can’t find my mommy.” His face was timid with large unassuming eyes. “Look kid,” I said painfully squatting down, “you don’t want my help. I’ve already been accused of molesting one boy today.” “What’s molesting?” the boy asked. “Well that’s when I try to put my dick in your ass.” I didn’t think it was possible but the boy’s eyes popped open even wider before he turned and ran off. I got up looked at the road ahead of me and slowly made my way into the sunset. “Hey we’ve got a child molester here!” Someone shouted in the distance. I picked up my pace, winced at the unbearable pain, and swore never to do anything nice again. The End.