Author's Note: I have unleashed the FIST on my prior chapter. (Hopefully)
all tense mistakes are corrected. I usually always write in the past tense,
so I'm giving present tense a shot if you haven't noticed that already. All
you who replied you will not have the FIST unleashed on you for a year and
a day. Enough of my babbling, let's get back to the tale. Wait-cause for
more babbling has entered my mind in form of ANAL PROBE! Oh that's
insulting, Stroke of Genius (my muse. I call her Soggy for short). I must
also add that when I started this I had not originally intended it to be
Nny/Todd, which would only be one small part. But Soggy and I talked it
over. We decided on a good ending for this that couldn't be done any other
way. Besides aren't they too cute together?
Chapter Three: There's Still Today to Live Through
Where am I now? I'm here in class. Never did get my 'happy place' poem written. I did write some poetry last night only it would just be too inappropriate for Ms. 'Douche Bag' Deutscher. I can't seem to get rid of all this nervous energy. I'm starting to get like that ADHD kid who won't stop poking me in biology. I want him to come back. I want him period. I can't help but think about over and over what the hell was going through his mind when I kissed him. Or he kissed me. I can't remember, but I know I started it. Is he thinking about me right now?
"Umm excuse me," Brittany Quinn says turning around in her desk, her large overly made-up eyes staring me down. Usually I would incredibly meek around her. Her boyfriend is the largest slab of meat you've ever seen outside of a hunting shack where somebody's just killed a moose.
But today the hell with her. "What?" I snap.
"You're banging on my chair you perverted freak," she hisses. When she says that I'm just hoping she doesn't see my erection through my impossibly thin jeans. Damn, in this kind of situation pants should automatically morph into titanium. On second thought, that would very painful.
I just glare at her until she turns around. I'm aware this mechanism is not very effective. It just makes her smirk her horribly twisted glittery face and turn around. Good enough. I sigh and raise my hand.
"What Mr. Casil?" the Douche Bag asks with a raised eyebrow. I normally never speak in class. One guy once asked me if I belonged in Special Ed. I hate people.
"Can I go to the bathroom?" I inquire impatiently.
"Well I don't know about you're plumbing Mr. Casil but my educated guess is yes," she tells me, her wrinkled face contorting into a grin. Her teeth are yellow. It takes the rest of the class a minute before they get it and then they collectively chuckle. I just get up, take my stuff and go.
Someone grabs me from behind, their hand like a meat grinder choking the last bit of blood out of some sausage. "What the hell?" I screech, panicking. "What the hell did I do?"
Rough laughter issues from behind me. A sinewy soccer player named Ned (I think) steps out from his buddy's blind spot. I've yet to figure out who's clenching my neck and the spot behind my knee to hold me in the air. His pinched green eyes stare hard into mine. "You're that freaky little kid Billy said was making out with some dude on his front porch."
"I was not!" I say, alarmed. God Johnny where are you? I implore this of nothing but my mind; which by the way is nothing but a flaming inferno. I have no idea what to do. I struggle against his grip finally, but lack of oxygen stings my ability to send direct signals of having a conniption to my body.
"Well uhh...." the voice of my captor finally grumbled in my ear.
"Shut up Arnie," Ned said. His eyes narrowed calculatingly, but I just think he was trying to remember their purpose for catching me. Light stings my eyes as they fling the gym doors open. Quickly and violently they hurl me onto the pavement, pebbles gathering in sharp little clumps in the thicker parts of my hands; one of my knees numb from the abrasion. Ned continues menacingly pacing around me. The angular boy reminds me of a vulture. I try to get up, but a heavy foot comes down hard on my back. I gather it is Arnie as his cleats dig into my spine. A few other guffawing jocks of various teams stream out like a pack of wildebeest. After counting all of his cohorts to make sure they are all here to witness whatever they plan Ned continues, "We're going to let a real pervert loose on you, you little poser queer."
A chubby pimply boy a few years older than I am is shoved out into the rather tight circle they've created around us. "Go ahead, he's yours Winston." I guess I look rather frightened because he looks extremely tentative.
"What?" Ned yells addressing Winston. "I thought just yesterday you said you wanted to get into the little freak's pants?"
"I-I did. Todd I hope you're not mad," Winston says like I actually have the physical ability to beat the hell out of him this instant. For a moment we just look at each other. Winston is not my type and I'm probably not for him. He probably goes for other pink piggish boys.
I just shake my head and stair at the ground, realizing that Arnie let me up because I'm kneeling. Winston is standing very near. In this sort of position it looks like I'm ready to give him head or something.
Ned looks appalled at our silence, our lack of doing anything. Their show was canceled and it's the two queers' fault. "Ah fuck you guys," Ned growls grabbing me by my shirt collar, running me fast into the chain link fence. A stray piece of metal slashes just under my eyebrow, another splits my lip. That's not to mention his spindly hands clasping the already firm immoveable bruises Arnie inflicted. Roughly Ned turns me around, kneeing me in the groin. I double over, but not for long. I'm down on the ground again with a piece of glass grinding into the back of my arm.
Fuck, I'm out of breath. Ned just hovers over me. He's the only one left. I suppose they took Winston inside to finish him off. Oh my god who the hell is that? The guy behind Ned is scarier and carries an actual weapon. "Johnny!" I can't help but say. Ned turns, bewildered. Murder is nothing new. This swift non-torturous one borders new. Nny grabs Ned by his longish auburn hair, wheels him around and stabs his knife straight into his Adam's apple. Granted the sound of metal clashing bone is somewhat disturbing along with the sudden gush of blood over his teeth and his tongue lolling out. Disgusted, Johnny drops the body of the soccer player and walks over to me and appears to be examining my injuries.
"Todd?" he murmurs, his lips dangerously near mine.
"Yes?" I say hopefully despite the pain.
"Let's get the hell out of here. It would really damage the mood for me to get arrested," he says with his twisted grin firmly in place.
Chapter Three: There's Still Today to Live Through
Where am I now? I'm here in class. Never did get my 'happy place' poem written. I did write some poetry last night only it would just be too inappropriate for Ms. 'Douche Bag' Deutscher. I can't seem to get rid of all this nervous energy. I'm starting to get like that ADHD kid who won't stop poking me in biology. I want him to come back. I want him period. I can't help but think about over and over what the hell was going through his mind when I kissed him. Or he kissed me. I can't remember, but I know I started it. Is he thinking about me right now?
"Umm excuse me," Brittany Quinn says turning around in her desk, her large overly made-up eyes staring me down. Usually I would incredibly meek around her. Her boyfriend is the largest slab of meat you've ever seen outside of a hunting shack where somebody's just killed a moose.
But today the hell with her. "What?" I snap.
"You're banging on my chair you perverted freak," she hisses. When she says that I'm just hoping she doesn't see my erection through my impossibly thin jeans. Damn, in this kind of situation pants should automatically morph into titanium. On second thought, that would very painful.
I just glare at her until she turns around. I'm aware this mechanism is not very effective. It just makes her smirk her horribly twisted glittery face and turn around. Good enough. I sigh and raise my hand.
"What Mr. Casil?" the Douche Bag asks with a raised eyebrow. I normally never speak in class. One guy once asked me if I belonged in Special Ed. I hate people.
"Can I go to the bathroom?" I inquire impatiently.
"Well I don't know about you're plumbing Mr. Casil but my educated guess is yes," she tells me, her wrinkled face contorting into a grin. Her teeth are yellow. It takes the rest of the class a minute before they get it and then they collectively chuckle. I just get up, take my stuff and go.
Someone grabs me from behind, their hand like a meat grinder choking the last bit of blood out of some sausage. "What the hell?" I screech, panicking. "What the hell did I do?"
Rough laughter issues from behind me. A sinewy soccer player named Ned (I think) steps out from his buddy's blind spot. I've yet to figure out who's clenching my neck and the spot behind my knee to hold me in the air. His pinched green eyes stare hard into mine. "You're that freaky little kid Billy said was making out with some dude on his front porch."
"I was not!" I say, alarmed. God Johnny where are you? I implore this of nothing but my mind; which by the way is nothing but a flaming inferno. I have no idea what to do. I struggle against his grip finally, but lack of oxygen stings my ability to send direct signals of having a conniption to my body.
"Well uhh...." the voice of my captor finally grumbled in my ear.
"Shut up Arnie," Ned said. His eyes narrowed calculatingly, but I just think he was trying to remember their purpose for catching me. Light stings my eyes as they fling the gym doors open. Quickly and violently they hurl me onto the pavement, pebbles gathering in sharp little clumps in the thicker parts of my hands; one of my knees numb from the abrasion. Ned continues menacingly pacing around me. The angular boy reminds me of a vulture. I try to get up, but a heavy foot comes down hard on my back. I gather it is Arnie as his cleats dig into my spine. A few other guffawing jocks of various teams stream out like a pack of wildebeest. After counting all of his cohorts to make sure they are all here to witness whatever they plan Ned continues, "We're going to let a real pervert loose on you, you little poser queer."
A chubby pimply boy a few years older than I am is shoved out into the rather tight circle they've created around us. "Go ahead, he's yours Winston." I guess I look rather frightened because he looks extremely tentative.
"What?" Ned yells addressing Winston. "I thought just yesterday you said you wanted to get into the little freak's pants?"
"I-I did. Todd I hope you're not mad," Winston says like I actually have the physical ability to beat the hell out of him this instant. For a moment we just look at each other. Winston is not my type and I'm probably not for him. He probably goes for other pink piggish boys.
I just shake my head and stair at the ground, realizing that Arnie let me up because I'm kneeling. Winston is standing very near. In this sort of position it looks like I'm ready to give him head or something.
Ned looks appalled at our silence, our lack of doing anything. Their show was canceled and it's the two queers' fault. "Ah fuck you guys," Ned growls grabbing me by my shirt collar, running me fast into the chain link fence. A stray piece of metal slashes just under my eyebrow, another splits my lip. That's not to mention his spindly hands clasping the already firm immoveable bruises Arnie inflicted. Roughly Ned turns me around, kneeing me in the groin. I double over, but not for long. I'm down on the ground again with a piece of glass grinding into the back of my arm.
Fuck, I'm out of breath. Ned just hovers over me. He's the only one left. I suppose they took Winston inside to finish him off. Oh my god who the hell is that? The guy behind Ned is scarier and carries an actual weapon. "Johnny!" I can't help but say. Ned turns, bewildered. Murder is nothing new. This swift non-torturous one borders new. Nny grabs Ned by his longish auburn hair, wheels him around and stabs his knife straight into his Adam's apple. Granted the sound of metal clashing bone is somewhat disturbing along with the sudden gush of blood over his teeth and his tongue lolling out. Disgusted, Johnny drops the body of the soccer player and walks over to me and appears to be examining my injuries.
"Todd?" he murmurs, his lips dangerously near mine.
"Yes?" I say hopefully despite the pain.
"Let's get the hell out of here. It would really damage the mood for me to get arrested," he says with his twisted grin firmly in place.