He's Back For Josh

Summary: Josh's uncle comes home to visit, and methodically tears apart his nephew's life.

Disclaimer: I'd love to put something remotely creative here…but, in the end…I have to say I do own Drake and Josh…OUCH no handcuffs!!!

Chapter 1 - Twisted

A nondescript faded blue vehicle rolled past the Parker-Nichols' household, and parked across the street. The sun illuminated the driver's features brightly, although his persona bled darkness. His forehead was high, with mousy brown hair covering the balding spots, while his lips were twisted in a constant scowl. He looked just as mediocre as any other middle aged man.

He rubbed his red-rimmed eyes. Once again he was staring at that house. He knew the long walkway led up to a house full of happiness—a family hale and healthy. That was soon to change. He had been watching the boy for at least a month, and had learned much about that family. The boy seemed to be quite loved, much to his personal abhorrence; he could never stand insolent boys. He'd all too often seen the boy laugh and smile with them. He'd heard the parents shout out as they left, disgustingly, their worthless words of love, and their insignificant warnings to be careful. The man smirked at their foolish naivety as he parked in a shady spot across the street, pretending to read a map. He flicked sweat off his face, and turned the AC dial even higher.

He'd seen the boy enter and exit the house with another boy, the same age, but shorter and skinnier. His father looked slightly rotund as always. He had no right to look so jovial, both on the weather and with his family. The woman and child, presumably biological mother and daughter, were also always impossibly close, he observed. The whole family was one huge nauseating mass of perfection—the thought thoroughly sickened him. Anger and frustration ripped through the man; his temple throbbed and he clenched his teeth together in a snarl. A part of him wanted to make them pay for being so happy, for having the perfect life. But first he would finish what he came here to do. He slowly breathed in deeply, as his psychologist had always reminded him, and calmed a bit. He glanced at the digital clock. It was nearly eleven thirty. He straightened the map he had so carelessly wrinkled.

He turned his attention back to the door of the house, and focused upon the boy who had suddenly appeared on the porch—his target. The man had been surprised (he thought he had found the wrong house until he had seen the father); the boy looked extremely different three years ago. Now, he was simply skinnier and taller. But he still had the dark raven colored hair, and smooth complexion. The boy had been taking care of himself, then…

The boy locked the door, and checked his pocket for his wallet. Having found it, he tossed his keys into the air, and caught them effortlessly. The boy whistled carelessly, and sat in his car. He had donned the familiar gold hued vest over a dark collared shirt—he worked at the Premiere from twelve to six on weekdays, and twelve to eight on weekends. The man had obviously done the necessary research.

The man wanted to tear the family apart brutally—his knuckles turned white as he gripped his steering wheel in a death grip—but first he would deal with the boy. His breathed heavily; he knew he shouldn't let his anger take hold on him—it was then he made mistakes. He tried breathing slowly and deeply again. He hated watching the family, especially the boy. He was glad it would be over soon.

He would wholly enjoy the task before him, and the events that followed. Then maybe, he'd go after the family. No one had the right to be so happy if he couldn't be. He longed for a mixture of revenge and greed for that which he thought rightfully belonged to him—which would be taken away from him when the boy turned 18.

He'd wanted to leave him decomposing in a dumpster after he was finished with him, but he needed a somewhat cleaner and more practical means of dealing with the boy. And he would launch his plan into action today, he thought, as he adjusted his rearview mirror to catch a final glimpse of the house before following the blue Ford Mustang the boy drove to work, unbeknownst to him that his joyous life would be wrenched away in a matter of hours, like a vicious whirlpool sucking innocent life into its dark depths.

The man chuckled heartily.


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