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------Hunched over in my car I waited, enveloped in the cover of night, with a fresh coating of filth on my car. Dirt collected on the driver side floor mat, but passenger floor mat was clean and untouched. Barely any trash in my car, which I keep clean, except in the door panel pouches. Looking through the windshield, I saw the crater of cracked glass, which I'd wanted to around to filling. The house to my right was dark. Every light was off, each window a dark cavern, some covered by cracked window panes and others by blankets worn and torn. It was lit by a single television set. The front door flopped open it dangled from a single hinge, as it tapped against the house remnant particles of glass fell to the ground. The fence that encompassed the house was rusted and bent from neglect. The garage door was bolted to the ground with mounting brackets preventing entry; it didn’t matter anyway. If someone tried to open the garage door, it would bind from the bent and twisted track. The old Ford truck rested in the drive way, front tires flattened, and body pressed to the ground by loads of garbage on its back. Its side panels decorated with the kid’s morning routine of hitting home runs with their Louisville slugger. ------A shadowy figure moved about the poorly lit yard, it made its way over towards my car, it hobbled on and off each leg, the body bounced with each step. It's him a giant of a man, his face overcome by facial hair, which I never remember him without it. His hair was wet and slicked back. The scent of musk with shampoo filled the air outside my car, and slowly flowed into my car. He must have just got out of the shower. ------He stood there his chin almost level with the roof of my car, an arms reach from the driver door. His right hand in pocket, playing with a rectangular block, what appeared to be a television remote, from what I could see through the darkness. His face showed no smile, something I wasn't use to, well with it being directed at me. A feeling of guilt came over me, why did I feel this I didn't do anything, so why should I feel this way. "Its not like we had sex, it was just a movie," I thought. I knew he was upset, I just didn't know how upset. ------Before I had time to greet him, something I was accustom to. He let out a direct firm joust of words, stabbing my mind. ------“I told you to never date my sister”, the words sputter around in my head as I tried to catch them. The pain from this attack left me searching. Searching deep into my mind, listening for what to say. The ambient bass rolls in the background, my car resonates in response, a song has just come on I turn down the volume. ------“You never said that,” I paused thinking, needing a witty response. “You asked me never to have sex with her.” ------Which was true, I'd never have sex with his sister. As much as I wanted to, I wasn't an idiot, I would've been playing Russian roulette. I attempted to read his face for success. He stared off blankly, turned his head hiding part of his face in the night. It was very hard to read him, a mind game he's good at, like playing cat and mouse with what he's actually thinking. Then phone hummed onto the floor of my car, startled I reach for the epileptic device and shut it off. ------He does something, a sliding of his belt or a twist of the pants, like a martial artist. “I told you to never get involved with my family”. ------I shuffled in my seat feeling like a driver caught speeding, choosing my words carefully. “I understand, we are not dating." I paused for a moment to let that sink in through his concrete vault. " I only took her to the movies nothing happened.” His face flushed with anger, which welled up at the bottom of his throat. ------“You obviously don’t!” releasing his anger, in my face. There was shimmer of light when he lend, beside his overly size mid section that caught my eye. ------Curiously and worried I asked, "A knife?” ------Which I knew him to cut open people just for kicks, which he talked alot about. Months before this I remember being told a story by him. It was how he got into some fight, a while ago. Where was this kid, which he used a colourful way to describe this kids race, that stabbed him in the leg. He pulled the knife out. Then grabbed the kid, and placed his massive bicep over the kid's mouth. He slowly drew the blade down the kids arm, unzipping it, and blood streamed out over the knife. He waited, removed the knife and placed it over the kids throat. He didn't slit the kids throat though. He let him go, but told him, "Try to say anything, and you will be hung before he can reach the police." ------Now back in my car, the story left me wondering my fate. ------He looks down, "Oh this?" a twisted smile formed on his face. I looked and sure enough he had his SOG Pendulum, his favorite 'legal' knife. "Its legal", stating something he has already told me, which he did frequently. ------He truly is psycho, I thought, “I got better things like homework and letters er' essays for college. You don't want to solve this.” ------“You solved this friendship when you dated my sister”, I realized if I kept this up, Id end up looking like a jack-o-latern on Halloween. ------“What ever bro,” defeated, I pulled away. Two blocks away he was yelling. What was it he was saying I slowed down just barely catching the end. ------“..you best be gett'n on them essays, N ********” sounding as southern as plantation owner. ------"Raciest a*****e", I thought as I drove away.
Sadorath · Sat Sep 24, 2011 @ 05:56pm · 0 Comments |
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