6
"I think there's something seriously wrong with Matt," June said while knitting an afghan.
"What? Are just noticing that?" Fred snapped sarcastically. His eyes didn't move from the TV because wrestling was on, and he didn't like to be bothered when wrestling was on. "There's been something wrong with that boy his whole life. He was born with something wrong with him."
"Fred!" June barked defensively. "He's our boy and it's our job to take care of him. I want you to find out what's wrong. I have a feeling that he might be in serious trouble. I mean, he started that fight at school the other day…"
"Yeah. The useless kid is starting to show some backbone." Fred took a sip of his beer wile keeping his eyes directed at the television.
"That's not the point," June said. She was starting to get very frustrated. She just wanted to help Matt out, but she didn't think Matt would listen to her. Matt would need another male figure to talk to. "Fred! You're going to talk to our nephew and find out what's wrong the next chance you get! And if you don't…"
"Okay, okay. Just shut up. I want to watch this. They're letting random people into the ring to fight Bone Saw. This should be good."
There were two men in weird garb beating the hell out of each other on the screen before the elders. June didn't get what was so attracting about mindless violence.
"Everyone knows that's all staged anyway," June mumbled.
"Yeah, but it's still fun to watch," Fred said and he took another swig of beer.
It was at that moment that Matt charged down the stairs and rushed through the room in which his aunt and uncle were watching TV. "I'm going to the library, be back later," Matt said so fast that all the words fused together which made the sentence almost undecipherable.
"Okay. Remember to play in traffic," Fred said without expression. June shot him a harsh look, which Fred caught out of the corner of his eye. "Ummm… Hold on there sport," Fred said quickly, getting up from his seat for the first time in three hours to do something other than get more beer. "I'll drive over there."
"That's okay, I can just take the train." Matt didn't want to get stuck with his uncle, partly because Matt was really going to the wrestling ring and partly Fred was just a pain in the ass to be around.
"I need the exercise, shut up," Fred snapped.
"Exercise? What the hell are you talking about?"
"Watch your language. Come on, let's go!" Fred looked back and saw his affectionate wife smiling while continuing to knit her afghan.
The old, yellow car pulled up next to the library and was put into park. Inside, Fred turned off the radio and began what was perhaps the most heartfelt conversation he's ever had in his entire life.
"What the hell's the matter with you?" Fred said, emotionless. There was no anger, no concern, not even a hint of irritation.
"What?" Matt said. He was caught off guard.
"Well, you've been ignoring your chores, conducting weird experiments, and starting fights at school."
"I didn't start that fight!" Matt defended himself.
"So you've said. You sure as hell finished it, though. I've never been more proud of you. That's not the point, though. You're changing. I know because I went through the exact same thing at your age."
"You did?" Matt asked curiously.
"What the hell do you mean, 'I did.' Everyone goes through puberty!" Fred enlightened in a not so light-hearted manner.
"Oh, right… puberty."
Fred raised an eyebrow, but ignored what he passed as his nephew's ignorance and continued with his lecture.
"The thing is, you can't just beat people up for no reason." Fred actually didn't care who Matt beat up, but June did. So Fred said what he thought his wife would approve of. He was very creative and was extremely skillful at coming up with spur of the moment bullshit.
"The kid you beat up… what's his name?"
"Sparky."
"What a queer name…. He probably deserved what happened to him. But, uhhh… just because you…uhhhhh…. have the power to beat him up doesn't give you the right to. Remember…" Fred took a long pause here. He wanted to make this next statement memorable. He didn't have to believe it to make it good. Meanwhile, Matt was looking on with anticipation. Fred continued. "With great power comes great responsibility." Hey, that was great! It worked perfectly, Fred thought.
Matt, a little disappointed that his uncle appeared to be disappointed, said, "Do you think I'm going to become some kind of criminal? Don't worry about me! I'll make plenty of money as a wrestler or something."
"Don't be a dumb ass! The point I'm making is that you have to be responsible. I know I'm not your father…"
"Then stop pretending to be," Matt cut in, harshly. When he got out of the car he told his uncle, "Gown ups aren't supposed to pretend!"
Fred, happy that Matt was finally out of the car, used that moment to take off while yelling out the window, "Pick you up at ten, bye." Matt turned his back to the library and proceeded to the wrestling ring.
"There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Bone Saw has just maimed his twenty-second opponent tonight! What a marvelous feat. Only five hundred thirty-nine more to go to break the record. Bring on the next opponent!" The announcer in the ring was a tall, skinny man with dark hair and had a twisted sense of entertainment.
"Next," the chubby, black woman said while sitting at a desk stuffing her face with chocolate. "Ameb," came out the mumbled word because of her candy stuffed face.
"What?" Matt asked, approaching the desk.
"Ibe ed," the woman mumbled, now swallowing her food, "what is your name?"
"Why the hell do you need my name? I thought I was just…"
"So we can check to see if you're eighteen or older," the reasonable woman reasoned.
"Ummm…. Will a fake ID do?"
"Yeah, that's fine."
Matt pulled out his fake ID, professionally done due to his uncle wanting Matt out of the house as much as possible, and let the plump lady take a look. The ID was okayed and Matt moved on, while pulling a red mask over his face.
"Wow, was that amazing or what? First guy since the fifth contestant to die… of a heart attack. I'd like to take this moment to remind everyone, the competitors, mostly, that the contract does cover homicide. We will not be held responsible." The announcer was wearing a bright yellow suit jacket and a bloodthirsty grin. "Who will be the next victi… er… competitor? Who will win the big bucks, el muy dinero, the immense amount of greenbacks? Maybe it will be…" the excited ring master lowered his voice and talked away from the microphone. "What's your name kid?" The man had been walking back towards the curtain where the armature wrestlers have been emerging. He now stood asking the mystery man behind the curtain for his name.
"Matt," said Matt from behind the red curtain.
"Not your real name, you idiot! What is your wrestling name?"
"Oh, ummm… El Hombre Araña," Matt said proudly.
"What are you, stupid? You don't use Spanish in America!" The yellow-garbed man now turned away from the curtain and back towards the crowd. He put the microphone up to his mouth and said, "The amount of three-thousand dollars will be paid to the abstract Spider-Matt!"
The curtain opened and revealed the most humiliating costume ever to be made in the history of costume making.
"What the hell is that?" said a voice in the crowd.
"Looks like a dork," said another.
"No, I mean on the dork's head."
"Oh… I don't know"
What was actually on Matt's head was a huge, red sock. It was about the size of one of those socks that clown wears while wearing those huge shoes. There was, of course, a hole cut in the sock that revealed immature teenager's eyes. He also wore a red sweat shirt with a funky looking spider on it and a pair of blue sweat pants.
As Matt made his way to the ring, the crowd started throwing things at him. Mostly Kraft Dinner. Matt didn't know the significance of the Kraft Dinner, and he most certainly didn't know why it was being violently thrown at him.
A man in the audience jumped up from his seat. There was something very peculiar about this man. Matt decided it was because of the three metal claws sticking out between the excited spectator's knuckles on each hand. There was a box of Kraft stuck on the claws of one hand and a giant cardboard saw in the other hand.
"What a weird crowd," Matt said to himself as he crawled underneath the ropes of the wrestling ring.
The announcer, upon noticing Matt enter the ring, yelled out, "NOW!" Suddenly a cage dropped around the armature teenager and homicidal professional known as Bone Saw.
Matt rushed over to the bars of the cage and yelled in panic, "I didn't sign up for a cage match!" No one cared about his plight.
"Hey freak show," growled Bone Saw from behind Matt, "you're going nowheeeeere." Matt noticed how the wrestler's voice resembled that of someone who is constipated. "I've got you for three minutes! Three minutes of…." The wrestler struggled to find a word that would fit what he was trying to say. He decided playtime would fit nicely and plugged it in. "Three minutes of playtime."
"That's a little gross. It doesn't sound right," Matt notified his overly anxious looking predator.
Bone Saw charged at Matt and Matt jumped up and clung to the bars that made up the side of the cage.
"That's a cute outfit," Matt said. "No, I really think so. The girl I have a crush on wears something just like that. Just without the saws."
Bone Saw looked himself over to recall what he had donned for the match. It was a revealing t-shirt with a miniskirt. The miniskirt had cute, little pictures of saws on it.
"Of course, I must admit that the outfit looked much better on her," Matt said after a moment of hesitation.
Bone Saw grunted, because this was all he did for the majority of the matches, and then jumped to try to reach his opponent. He was very annoyed that he couldn't reach the frightened youngster so he decided to speak up. "What the hell are ya doin' up there?"
"Staying away from you for three minutes. I only have two minutes and forty seconds left to go!" Matt said victoriously.
"You cheap little bastard. Get down here and fight like a man."
"Why don't you come up here and fight like a spider?"
Bone Saw made another leap for his adversary. Matt hopped over the combatant and landed behind him. Matt then proceeded to advance on the wrestler and wallop him with a fist.
Bone Saw didn't like this at all and grabbed for Matt. Unfortunately for Bone Saw, Matt was ahead of the game and already had his Super Silly String shot out and attached to the top of the cage. Matt gave a quick yank on the rope and sent himself soaring upwards just in time to avoid his aggressor's offensive assault.
"Stupid bum!" Bone Saw yelled in aggravation. "Get down here!" So Matt released his hold and dropped letting his feat connect with the antagonist's jaw.
"Chair!" shouted parts of the audience.
Bone Saw, now on the ground due to the excruciating blow to his face, grabbed Matt's feet when he wasn't looking. Matt (stupid teenager) didn't pay attention to his know-it-all-spider-wit. A quick tug brought Matt down to the ground while the steroid pumped warrior got to his feet and hustled over to the side of the cage where a Xena looking woman handed her champion a metal chair. Bone Saw hustled back to where his opponent hadn't recuperated yet and smashed the chair over Matt's back.
Matt rolled over now, looked up into the homicidal eyes of his freakish foe, and kicked him in the crotch. Now, just so you know, Matt doesn't usually fight dirty. Of course, he doesn't usually fight, but he knew what was acceptable in a fight and what wasn't. Matt didn't think smashing chairs over kids' backs was acceptable so in return, Matt did something else unacceptable. In his mind, two wrongs did in fact make a right.
Bone Saw fell to the ground and passed out because of the great amount of strength put into the kick. Matt stood up and when he realized that no one was coming to declare him champion, he put his own arm in the air. Matt waved his arm around in the air while the cage was lifted and the audience booed him for his objectionable method of winning.
"Okay, here's your lousy money," the promoter said behind his big desk in his big office that made him look important and he held a hundred dollar bill out, waiting for the teenager to take the money and piss off.
Matt, now with the sock off his head, screwed up his eyes to give a facial expression that showed outrage. He failed. He returned his face to normal and said, "The add said three-thousand dollars, not a hundred."
"Well check it again, freak," the promoter spat.
Matt pulled out the newspaper and looked it over. "Right here," he said, and pointed it out to the man behind the desk. "Three-thousand dollars, see?"
"Huh," the promoter said as he realized what was before his eyes and scratched the back of his head. "I guess I did put three-thousand down. Well, you kicked the guy in the groin to win. That's frowned upon, so I'm afraid I can only give you three-hundred bucks."
"You gave me a hundred."
"That's what I meant. That's all I can give you. Go away."
"I need that money," Matt pleaded.
"That's not my problem! Go away!"
Matt stormed out of the office and down the hall. He pushed the elevator button with an angry jab and waited impatiently. There were noises behind him. The sounded a little like this:
"Give me the money!" (Voice of an angry man.)
SMACK!!!! (The sound of a gun making contact with the angry man's head.)
Quick footsteps and "Stop that man." (A fat policeman unable to apprehend a thief)
Matt still waited with his impatient pose for the elevator doors to open. Then, once they did, a blonde jerk with a bag of money heaved past Matt and through the open, metal doors. The disrespectful dope quickly pressed the button for the elevator to close and yelled out "thanks" to Matt. Matt just watched in irritation.
"Why didn't you stop him!" yelled the pursuing cop as he turned around to find the stairs.
"You could have torn that guy apart," said the promoter, rubbing his head. "Now he's going to get away with my money."
"That's not my problem!" Matt snapped. "I'm just trying to leave! These goddam elevators take to long. Then, once they open, I can't get through because a jerk with a bag of money shoves past me."
"Jesus Christ! Forget it!" The promoter left and Matt resumed waiting impatiently for the elevator.
Once Matt finally made it out of the building, he couldn't find his uncle. Matt was definitely having a very frustrating day.
Matt looked left and right and saw nothing but a big mob of people surrounding one particular spot on the sidewalk. Matt didn't really care what the commotion was all about, but he had nothing better to do than check it out.
He casually made his way over to the horde with a sluggish gait. Matt shoved passed the people using his incredible strength. Then he saw the horrible picture that he will never forget until the day he dies. Even then it will still linger in the unconsciousness of his soul. Matt stared at the ground and saw the form of his collapsed Uncle Fred.
"That's my uncle!" Matt shrieked, and he proceeded to shove past the authorities. Then Matt added, in slight hesitation, "I think…"
Matt pulled out a wallet out of the back pocket of man on the ground and then said, "Yep, it's my uncle. What happened?"
"Carjacker," a cop said in a tone that indicated she didn't give a damn about what happened to the old man on the ground.
Fred opened his eyes slightly to see what was happening. He saw Matt and acknowledged this by saying in a horse voice, "Matt…" There was a hint of despite in the dying man's last word, but Matt didn't notice.
Matt let tears stream down his face thinking, I shouldn't be crying. Uncle Fred would call me a pansy if he could see me now.
Fred opened his eyes one last time and said, "Pansy." He then let out his last breath and died. For good.
Matt was about to scream out no(oooooooooo) and give this story an unneeded and overly used cliché but he was interrupted before he got anything out of his mouth. A policeman said, "We've got the shooter! He's starting the dead man's car across the street!"
The man in the yellow Oldsmobile saw the police pointing over at him and he decided to forget about trying to hotwire the car and just use the keys he got off the old man. He started the car and took off in a mad rush.
Matt noticed all of this happen and decided that he was going to catch the killer himself. This was something that he should have never done because it would later lead to an unneeded feeling of guilt.
Matt ran away from his uncle's dead corpse (as opposed to a live corpse), and went into an alley. About ten seconds later he appeared on a rooftop in his terrible "Hombre Araña" costume.
Matt started to hop from building to building to find the stolen vehicle that once belonged to his Uncle Fred. He did find it. It was actually disappointingly easy. The Oldsmobile was waiting at a red light. Waiting! That wasn't the worst part, though. The worst part was the fact that three cars behind the stolen, yellow automobile were two police cars with their lights flashing, were also waiting. Matt was baffled.
While being baffled, the red traffic light turned green and the thief once again took off like a maniac. Finally, a chase scene!
Matt was prepared for this. All he had to do was shoot out a Super Silly String line and swing from it. He could do this. He just wasn't sure if he would do it successfully. Since he didn't feel like letting the bad guy get away, Matt decided he would just let his know-it-all-spider-wit guide him. Matt brought his middle and ring fingers down and pressed them against the button on his palm. A strand shot out and snagged onto a building. He paused for moment and contemplated what he was about to do. That was before he realized he was going about it all wrong, stopped thinking, and jumped.
Matt let out a yell. It was partly out of ecstasy, and it was also partly because he could see that he was about to smash into the wall that his strand of silly string had attached itself to. Then Matt's know-it-all-spider-wit kicked in and he instinctively shot out another strand to the side and let go of his first. Matt swung to the side and looked down. He saw his uncle's stolen car and started to trail it.
Matt swung for a while and was contempt with being able to keep his uncle's car in his view. Then he realized that he was accomplishing nothing and decided to perform a few stunts in the air. He twisted and turned his body making odd shapes that a normal person would cringe at the sight of. Matt was even able to screw himself up into a pretzel shape. That frightened him.
At any rate, Matt eventually decided to do something about the retreating car and plunged down onto the car's hood. The driver shrieked and quickly turned the steering wheel back and forth to try to shake the freak off the car that he, as he liked to say, "stole fare and circle…I mean square… Is that right?" He wasn't bright.
Because of the lack of intelligence, thief put all of his attention on getting the newly acquired "hood ornament" off the car, instead of looking where the vehicle was headed. It was headed, unfortunately for the thief, directly towards a building. The car smashed into this building and came to a halt.
Long before the collision, Matt was warned by his know-it-all-spider-wit, of course, and jumped to safety. He watched the thief get out of the car and run into the abandoned building. What an idiot! Matt thought.
Matt crawled on the ceilings of many dark, reclusive rooms in search for the madman who killed his uncle. Where could he be? Matt asked himself. He lowered himself upside-down holding onto a strand of Super Silly String and noticed a paranoid man. The strange man was looking all around trying to figure out which way an attack was going to come from.
"There!" Matt exclaimed. He noticed his mistake when the adversary squealed the word "shit," and made a run for it. While Matt tried to twist himself right side up, he lost his grip and slammed into the floor on his back.
While Matt caught his breath, the assailant (more of a coward at hindsight) was making an attempt to walk through locked, metal doors. It didn't work, of course. Matt caught up with the killer and smashed the man's head through, not one, but two glass windows. The evil man screamed at the impact both times. This pleased Matt.
The murderer was released, and he backed up to a large window, which supplied some of the little light that the room possessed. He was breathing heavily and Matt could tell the man was afraid.
As well he should be, Matt thought.
"Wait!" the hunted killer said. "I didn't do anything. What do you want? Give me a chance?"
"What about the old man on the street? My uncle! Did you give him a chance? Did you?!"
"The old man on the street?" The mystery man eased up a bit now. "I didn't kill him. The guy came up to me complaining about his life and all. He told me to take the gun and shoot him because his nephew is a pansy and he has nothing to live for. I told him I wouldn't shoot him. I may be a thief, but I'm not murderer. Then he offered me the keys to his car, which he pointed out as the 'old, yellow one.' Since I was desperate for a getaway car, I took the keys and left. Well, I went across the street to the car anyway. He seemed mad, but he decided to just shoot himself anyway."
"You expect me to believe that trash?" Matt said, now offended that this jerk thought he could get away by telling such a stupid story. Matt grabbed the thief and pushed him into the light coming through the window. Police cars surrounded the building and had searchlights set up. Once the thief was in the light, his true identity was shown. It was the man whom Matt let go after stealing the money at the wrestling wring. Now Matt had guilt.
"Look, I'm tellin' ya, I didn't kill him!" The burglar's voice shook because he was afraid, once again.
Matt didn't care anymore. Whether the thief killed Fred or Fred killed himself out of self-pity, it was Matt's own fault. He gave the coward a shove while turning to walk away. The thug tripped, fell out the window, and died on collision. Matt didn't care about that, either. Nonetheless, he still allowed himself to say "whoops." He then yelled out the window "sorry."
Matt saw several police cars in front of the abandoned building, and decided it was time to take off. Matt then noticed flashlights making their way towards him and that's when he decided it was definitely time to make himself scarce.
According to eyewitnesses, the masked man disappeared. In fact, Matt had just crawled out the window with such stealth that no one noticed. It was all thanks to his know-it-all-spider-wit.
Matt sat on a gargoyle a few hundred feet up in the air on the outside of the Chrysler Building. He was too depressed to be amazed by the view. He looked up at the two towers, and he suddenly had newfound strength.
"Look at those buildings," the naïve teen said to himself. "Those two structures have been through a lot and they've never fallen. They let nothing get in their way. They're sturdy and nothing will ever knock them down. That's the way I should be. I have to be like the twin towers. I won't let anything get me down!"
The teenager had no idea what he was talking about, but he was sure it was something profound. At any rate, it was the most profound thing he ever came up with. Now he had to go home and tell his aunt that it was his entire fault that Uncle Fred was dead. Or he could say it was just a murder… Yeah, Matt knew nothing. The carjacker was entirely to blame.