I love International Pixelstained Technopeasant day.
Have a free short story, all you webscabs!
No, I don't want to talk about it. I don't have to.
No, I don’t. Leave me alone.
I fucking broke my knuckles and I'd appreciate it if you left me alone.
Excuse me? I don't care who you are.
I said, I don't care who you are.
No, I'm not hurt anywhere else. I'm fine, you know, except that I, you know, broke my knuckles and I'm in excruciating pain and all, but no I'm really fine and I'd like you to leave. I don't want to talk to you. Where's my mom? Did you call her? Get her in here and get the hell out. You don't even know how he's doing, do you? You have no idea. I mean, I must've busted his nose. I know I busted his nose. How many teeth did he lose? You don't know? If you don't know, then get out because I don't want to talk to you.
I mean it.
Look, I said I don't want to talk to you.
Yeah, I busted him up. What's it to you? He's not gonna press charges.
Because I know he's not.
I just do, okay.
Get off my back! Go bug somebody else! This is none of your business. It's between me and him and I think you should leave.
I'm asking you nicely to please leave, okay?
What do you mean I have to talk to you?
But there isn't any abuse! Look at my hands and look at his face and tell me if there's abuse. If anything, there's parent abuse.
Tell me how he is and then come back, okay? Find out how he's doing and then come talk to me and I'll consider your offer.
You can't do that.
No, you can't. There isn't any abuse at all! You can't do that!
Fine, you want to know what happened that badly. Fine. FINE! I'll tell you. I came home late and beat up my Dad. That's what happened. Go write up your stupid reports, and leave us the hell alone.
What do you mean? No way. No.
Look, lady, you can't do that. Nothing happened, alright? It was just a stupid fight. It's totally over, totally completely over and it will never happen again.
You can't do that.
You don't understand!
Look, I came home past curfew and Dad and Terri got pissed. They waited up for me and I came home, and I thought they'd be asleep. They weren't. They wanted to talk about it, and I got pissed off. I mean, I'm sixteen years old and I don't think being out late is such a big deal but apparently I'm mature enough to drive, but not mature enough to go to a few parties now and then. So, I got pissed and I just left. I went to my room and locked my door and told my dad to piss off. He broke my door down, and I took a swing at him and now we're in the hospital and I really would appreciate it if you went to check on my Dad. I know I broke his nose pretty bad and I know his eye didn't look that good, and I know he got some teeth knocked out. I didn't want to do that to him, but he made me.
He did make me.
Yes, he did. He actually did make me do it.
Who started it? What are you talking about? There wasn't a fight. I just hit him.
There wasn't a fight.
Well, I lied, alright. I mean, geez, you won't even go find out about my Dad. How's he doing?
Well what's the last thing you heard?
That's great. You don't know anything. You come talk to me and you don't know a goddamn thing.
He did make me.
He told me to hit him.
I'm not lying. Really, he told me to hit him. I mean, I took the first swing and that one was all me, but after that he just kept telling me to hit him.
He did. I mean, he broke down my door and told me never to walk away from him. He was all like, "Never walk away from me, boy. You never walk away from me! I am your father and you never walk away from me!"
That was kind of during, actually. He said it while he was kicking down my door, and he was still yelling about it on the way in. That's when I took a swing. I busted him right in the jaw as hard as I could. He didn't fall over or anything, he just stumbled back and looked real surprised. I thought I was dead. I mean, you know, he's a big guy. He used to play football and stuff just like me. He even boxed heavyweight once. He's, like, huge. Well, I hit him and he kinda stumbled back. I looked at him right then and he was just really really huge. God, I thought I was dead. I thought he was gonna just kill me. He looked so shocked. I mean, he just looked like he was, you know, really surprised and stuff. He just, well, he just looked at me like that. If he hadn't looked so surprised I might've hit him again.
You wanted to know so bad, well I'm telling you so shut up, lady. Don't interrupt me again with that BS. I'm telling the truth so stop twisting my words around. This is what happened next. He took off his glasses, his watch, his shirt. He even took off that necklace Terri got him in Costa Rica. He even took off his wedding ring. He took everything off. Terri came running up because it got real quiet, but she just stood in the doorway. She didn't say anything. I mean, this was about us, you know, about me and him.
Dad looked right at me and I was stepping back because I thought he was gonna open up on me. I really believed I was totally dead. He never hit me. Not even once. He just looked at me and he said, "You want to hit me, huh? You want to hit me in the face. Fine. Hit me."
I didn't even try. I thought he was gonna just use it as an excuse to get me on my feet so he could kill me. He shook his head at me like he was disappointed. He said, "I won't fight back. You have my word, boy. I won't lift a finger to stop you. I won't fight you. I can't fight you. Now get up. You want to hit me. So hit me. I'm not asking you boy. I'm telling you. Hit me."
I figured I'd rather go down on my feet. That's really what I thought. I mean, I thought he was still just playin' with me and he was gonna break me in half. I figured if I was gonna die, I'd wanna at least get one more good shot in. So I stood up and I popped him in the gut. He doubled over a little and laughed, "No, boy. You wanted to hit me in the face. You didn't want to hit me in the gut. The face, boy. Hit me right in the face."
Well, yeah. I did. I hit him right in the face. I was still pretty pissed so I was still swingin' good. I mean, I was half expecting him to turn around on me and let it loose on me, but he didn't. He'd take the shot and he'd look me in the eye and say, "Hit me again, boy. One more time." He kept saying it over and over again. I mean, I was okay with it until he started bleeding. I'll admit it. I really was. I mean, I'd been wantin' to hit him for a while. Then he started bleedin'. Didn't take long for that. Couple minutes at most, you know. He just started bleedin' every time I hit him. It was his nose first. God, I busted his nose real bad. He even fell over for that one. That was the first time he fell over. Then he stood up, takin' his time to get up and stuff and he said, "Again, boy. C'mon. You're not done yet."
I was like, "You're bleeding."
He said, "So what? Didn't stop you before. It's my blood. You don't think it's your blood, do you? It's mine. I don't care if I lose a little blood. Hit me again. Hit me again, goddammit. That's an order, boy. Hit me again."
So I kept hitting him. He started falling over a lot, but he kept getting back up. I mean, he just wouldn't let me stop. He just kept getting up. What was I supposed to do? God, I started throwing up all over my room and he just told me to hit him again. God, his face was messed up. He was bleeding everywhere. His nose was fucked up. And I tried to go easy on him but he wouldn't let me. He said, "You fuckin' call that a punch? Didn't I teach you to punch better than that? What a wuss. You're a wuss, boy. You can't finish what you started. C'mon. Again. Hit me again, for real this time."
I broke my knuckles sometime after the first half hour, I think. We went at it for over two hours. He just wouldn't let me stop. He kept getting up. I mean, I didn't want to, but he kept getting up. He'd just spit the teeth out into his hand and put them in his pocket. Blood was everywhere. God he must've lost gallons of blood. I'm feeling sick, lady. I think I'm gonna puke again. That's what happened, alright.
What do you mean when did we stop? We stopped when he said I could stop. It was right after I switched hands. I hit him on the forehead and he fell over, and something snapped real loud in my hand. He stood up real, real slow - he'd been falling and standing up real slow every time - and he looked me in the face and he said, "How's your hand?"
I was holding my hand by then. I mean, I've really screwed up my knuckles. I told him, "It hurts like a motherfucker."
"Use your other hand," he said.
I said, "No. You made your point. I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry."
He said, "Hit me again, boy. You're not done yet. You haven't finished the job. Use your other hand."
So I did. I only got four shots in with my left hand before he couldn't get up. He lay there on the ground. He was just laying there on his back in a mess of blood and vomit from both of us and he just looked up at me and he said, "I reckon you're done, boy. I reckon you're done." That's it. That's what happened.
What about her? Well, she couldn't watch. She watched at first, but after the first couple shots she just left. I don't know what she was doing. Why don't you ask her?
Dad isn't the kind of guy you can really argue with once he's got his mind set on something.
Well, I helped him up, and we went out to the kitchen. He wanted a glass of water. He was bleeding so much and he could barely walk. I got him some water and he put the cup up to his face and he started drinking and so much of his blood got in there he ended up drinking more blood than water. God, I feel sick. I don't want to talk about this anymore, alright? I don't want to talk about anything. I think I'm gonna puke. Terri's gotta be here. If Mom isn't here, can you at least get Terri? Do you know if my Mom's gonna be here? Have you called her yet? I have her number somewhere. I know Terri knows where it is. Talk to her, okay. I mean, Terri. Talk to Terri. But I want to see my Mom, so get her up here, too.
Hey, wait. Nothing's gonna happen right? I mean, tonight was bad, but like I said, it's over. You're not gonna do anything, right? Can you find out how he's doing for me? Please? I really need to know if he's gonna be okay.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
I love International Pixelstained Technopeasant day.