Title: Bowling for Brutality
Author: TWBasketcase
Rated: T for language and implied violence
Disclaimer: I do not own the Breakfast Club.
Summary: Two men meet up in a bowling alley one night, and discover that they have something in common…their sons.
A/N: Okay guys another one-shot from me. This idea was not mine; Jesse Hayes posted it in the forums…so shout out to her. I'm gonna plug those forums once again (and maybe you guys will get off of your bums and go drop us a line). Go there to discuss anything TBC, or to get any ideas/suggestions for fan fics!

Bowling for Brutality

Tom Clark kept his eyes glued to the middle arrow. He knew the key to keeping that ball straight was to watch the place he wanted it to go. It was the last throw of the tenth frame and his team was relying on him to spare it up of they wanted to win. Tom had to win. Winning was his life, and he was not going to be weak loser.

He hated losers.

He narrowed his eyes slowly and took one step forward, carefully bringing the ball back. One his second step, the ball was behind his back, his arm in line with his shoulder. On his third step, the ball was out in front of him, rolling on the floor. He watched closely, holding his arm up in front of him, as the ball indeed rolled over the middle arrow. It curved a few millimeters to the left and struck the middle pin head on, causing the other five behind it to the left to crash down as well.

He spared it up alright.

He pumped his arm up into the air and was met with the hoots and hollers of his teammates. They clapped his shoulder and gave him high fives, showering him with the arrogant confidence that seemed to envelope him everywhere he went. He felt like he was the king of the world.

He looked back at the members of the other team; they all were packing up their gear and heading on out. They knew that they lost and they weren't about to stick around as Tom guzzled in all of his glory. Only one man remained seated, and he had an amused smirk plastered across his face.

Tom made his way over to the other man and extended out his hand. "Good game."

The other man hesitated; his gaze lingering on Tom's outstretched hand. He looked back up to Tom's face and shrugged. "Yeah, it was alright, wasn't it?"

Tom smiled brightly. "You're damn skippy. I haven't bowled like that since I was a teen."

The other man nodded. "I'm Ed Bender."

Tom smiled. "I'm Tom; it's good to meet you, Ed."

Ed just nodded back. "What do you say we go hit up the bar for a drink?"

Tom looked at his watch. It was only 9:30 pm, and he had another hour before he had to head home. He gathered up his ball, his rag, and his bowling bag and gestured to Ed. "Lead the way."

The two men headed up the three stairs that separated the alley from the lanes and made their way towards the shoe rental counter. Both men removed their footwear and left it on the counter for the attendants to clean. From there, they proceeded to the restaurant portion of the alley, which housed a bar within. When both men claimed a stool, Ed proceeded to order them both a Bud.

"So how long you been league bowling, Tom?" Ed took a sip from his beer and quickly licked his lips.

Tom grinned. "Well actually I just started up again this year. I did it for about seven years when I was in my twenties…and then the rug rats came along and I never had time." He took a drink of his beer and smacked his lips together. "It feels damn good to get out of the house again."

Ed snorted. "I know how you feel. I've been bowling for the last thirteen years straight. To tell you the truth, I started after my kid was born."

Tom nodded. "I don't blame you," He gave him a hearty laugh and ordered another drink for the two of them. "It sure does get frustrating."

Ed rolled his eyes. "With a kid like mine it sure does. I'll tell ya, I cannot keep that boy under control. He's a no good for nothing punk."

Tom nodded his head. "My boy ain't so bad, when he's listenin' to me that is. He's a wrestler…last year's state champ."

Ed snorted. "So I guess the competitiveness runs in the blood, huh?"

Tom laughed. "Yeah, I suppose it does. But he could be a lot better if he just took some advice from me, you know? I was a college champ. I graduated from Notre Dame."

"Little snot probably thinks he has it all planned," Ed laughed. "Kids are stupid that way. No matter how many times you tell 'em they're fucking up, they just keep on going as if they've been around longer."

Tom nodded, he agreed completely. "I don't know why they do that. When I was a boy I always listened to what my old man said. Always…there was never a moment of hesitation. Kids these days do nothing but rebel."

"Ain't it the truth," Ed declared. "I was an army boy myself. My old man was a Korean vet. So I followed in his footsteps…you know, made him proud." He placed his beer in front of him and turned so that he was fully facing Tom. "You know, I went through three years of 'Nam. Three god damned years. I came back, and my boy didn't even know who I was. All he did was cry and scream and disobey me." He shook his head angrily. "It only figured he never grew out of it."

Tom's gaze went downcast to the bar. "Your boy doesn't do anything to make you proud?"

Ed looked off in the distance, towards the other side of the bar. "Nah just plays his bullshit heavy metal music. The damn kid thinks he's a rock star. Fucking faggot even goes as far as playing concerts in gay bars to get the name out." He glared angrily at his beer bottle. "Do you know how that feels? He has no sense of discipline or authority so he plays around in some silly band – with a bunch of other long haired pussies – in faggot night clubs."

Tom shook his head, damn glad that it wasn't his kid. "That boy definitely needs a smack upside the head." He brought the bottle to his lips. "I mean, if I ever found my kid fucking around with alcohol and loud music – and not focusing on his wrestling – I would definitely whoop his ass into gear."

"That's what it takes sometimes. I know with my boy, he'll never look at a cigar the same way again."

Tom cocked an eyebrow. "Did it keep him from smoking?"

Ed laughed. "No, but it did keep him the hell out of my garage."

They both shared a laugh at that and raised their bottles for cheers. They settled back into their seats. Ed glanced at Tom through the corner of his eye. "It's alright to get tough on the kid you know. He'll probably be a lot more respectful if you do."

Tom nodded. "My old lady is always piping at me to take it easy on him, like he is some worthless little baby or something."

Ed snorted in disgust. "Oh don't you know it. The wife will go and call him a stupid brat, but the second I really start getting him in trouble I'm 'taking it too far'. But I let her know that I am the man of the house, and I will raise my boy as I see fit."

Tom contemplated that. Marcy was way too easy on Andy; maybe it was time he told her to back off as well. What does a good for nothing woman know about sports anyways? "That's a good way of looking at it, Ed." He placed the empty bottle in front of him and pushed it away a few inches. "I think that if she backed off of him, he could start getting his head straight. I always told him that losing and slacking was a weakness that he had to stay focused everyday to get where he wants to go."

Ed nodded. "It worked for me in the army."

Tom laughed. "Yeah, and it worked for me in university."

Both men sat in companionable silence for a few moments. The jukebox was playing in the background, and the bar was beginning to clear out. Ed pushed back on his stool and stood up, dusting his pants off in the process. "You need a ride home?"

Tom looked up at him and shook his head. "No, I've got my Bronco."

Ed grunted. "Good. It's too bad we had to sit here like a couple of bums and bitch about the runts. Maybe we should get together and bowl again?"

Tom contemplated his answer and shrugged. "I'll be here, same time next week."

Ed smiled at him. "You're on."

"See you later, Ed"

"Later, Tom."

Tom sat for a few more moments before he stood as well. He made his way back towards the shoe rental and grabbed another pair of shoes. He was going to bowl just one more round. If the wife had a problem with it, he would deal with her later.

For now he was going to do what he wanted. Bowling off the brutal frustrations built up from his son sounded like a great idea. The sooner he stopped whining and started winning, the faster Tom would be proud of him.

He narrowed his eyes on the middle arrow. He knew the key to keeping that ball straight was to watch the place he wanted it to go. Maybe keeping that boy square and straight would do the same thing.

Thanks to Ed Bender, he now had that confidence.

He rolled his arm back and let the ball go in three steps. He watched closely – with his arm outstretched – as the ball crossed the arrow and curved slightly to the left. It hit the middle pin dead on, sending it crashing to the lane along with the other nine behind it.

One strike and he was on top of his game.

The End

A/N: Short and sweet, I know. I do hope you all enjoyed. Please review!