"Bro? Bro wake up."

Opening his eyes a few hours later, Four Way Shot yawned greatly. It took his eyes a little while to adjust to the light in the room, his brother was sitting on his bed beside him, his hand resting on his shoulder, there was a flashlight, still on, lying between his legs. His flamethrower was still in bandaging, an appointment had been set for a technician to repair it the next day.

"Whut time is it?" he asked.

"You slept past dinner," Arson said. "way past three."

"A-why did ye a-wake me up?" Four Way Shot asked, trying to pull the sheet over his face.

"I was planning on going out," Arson said. "I thought you'd like to come with me."

He heard an owl hoot outside, the moon was a half and the stars were almost nonexistent because of the clouds. Pushing himself up with one arm, his muscles still hurt, he clamped his teeth down on his lower lip to stop the scream of pain that threatened to come up. His brother was already standing up, he was rummaging through his drawers, trying to get a shirt and a pair of jeans for him. Sliding his legs out from the sheets and pulling himself to his legs, he pushed his brother out the way.

"I kin do it," he said.

"You want me to help you get dressed?" Arson asked. "You look really sore."

"Nah, I gots it." Four Way Shot said, shivering a little. "Whar is we a-goin'?"

"I thought we needed a smoke after what happened today." Arson snarled.

After his brother had fallen asleep his father had thought up more chores for him to do after he had been told from his uncle that he had been in possession of one of his magazines. He had a bunch of magazines hidden under his mattress that had been thrown in a pile. Every night at one he'd go down to the living room when everyone was asleep and snatch a few. The ones that were in the pile almost all the time were nature magazines or magazines about disasters. He had been made to wash the floor in the kitchen, clean the bathrooms and take the trash out.

Putting his clothes on turned out to be easy, just as long as he didn't move his arms to fast he was fine. Climbing out the window was the hard part. When he pulled his leg up he felt like crying, he clamped his teeth down on his lower lip just as hard as he could to stop the wimpers that he was sure everyone would hear, it was very quiet out. The flower fence was still up, his father had mentioned something about taking it down the night before but he had either forgotten or hadn't gotten around to it. Swinging a leg over, his teeth slowly making deep marks in his lip, he started lowering himself to the ground.

The ranch yard was very quiet, the chickens had been put up in their house a few hours before, he had brought the horses in before he had entered the house and the cows, bulls and goats were sleeping in their pastures. The pigs, he could hear, were the only animals awake on the ranch, he could hear the grunts of one as it rolled in the mud and the sounds of another trying to get the last bit of pig slop out of the trough. Besides the grain that they'd get, his father would at times throw lettuce, apples and bread to them.

"Bro?" Four Way Shot asked. "Bro, ye okay?"

Arson was half way down the fence, his jacket had gotten stuck on one of the vines and he had had to untangle it with his teeth. When it was loose he climbed the rest of the way down, when his foot hit the ground he let go of the fence. He had left his black leather jacket in his closet, he didn't feel like ripping it, and had grabbed one of his old jackets on the way out. He had made sure that his window was unlocked and a little bit open, that way he wouldn't have to make too much noise when he got back.

"Yeah," he said. "my jacket got caught up and it slowed me down."

Walking past his brother and heading for the horses pasture, he didn't see the small figure looking out her window at him. Four Way Shot followed by his side, he was limping badly but he was keeping up. The horses pasture had an old rusty car hidden behind a bunch of trees and bushes, it was perfect for when they wanted to be alone to smoke cigarettes, cigars or a blunt or two.

"Whut ye got?" his brother asked.

Arson didn't answer, he didn't want to spoil what he had hidden in his pants pocket. As usual there were two horses still in the pasture, a mare owned by a woman that his uncle had been seeing for years and a mare that had been caught off the range a few months ago. Both were wild and both were unpredictable. Lowering his head and walking into a cluster of bushes, he heard the sound of hooves in the distance.

"Do I gots to ask ye agin?" his brother asked, shoving him.

"Take a seat."

He had discovered the car a few years ago by accident, it was an old, beaten up truck, the paint had rusted off years ago and the tires were flat, the engine was missing and at times he'd hide under the hood when his brother and he played hide and seek. The seats inside were old and the cushion had gone out a long time ago. His brother and he had pulled a log to the truck so that they didn't have to sit on the springs that were poking up through the seats. Shoving his hand in his pocket, he pulled out a small metal box.

"Uh oh," his brother sighed. "whar'd ye git that from?"

"None of your business." Arson said. He pulled out a paper from the inside pocket of his jacket and poured some of the grass onto it, when he rolled the paper up he stuck his tongue on the side that he hadn't rolled, he had learned a long time ago that saliva made paper stick really well. When it was done he handed it to his brother.

"Ye got a light?" his brother asked.

"Yeah, hold on."

Digging into his jacket pocket he pulled out a small butane lighter, the one his father used when his flamethrower was malfunctioning. After handing it to his brother he went to work on making himself one. He had enough grass in the box for three so he pulled out a cigar and emptied it of it's tobacco. When it was empty he started shoving the grass inside, making sure to push it down with his finger. When that was done he turned around, his brother was still holding the lighter in his hand, he hadn't lit his joint yet.

"I a-was waitin' fer ye." his brother said.

"Give me the damn lighter," Arson growled. "was waiting for me my ass!"

"Ye don't got any cigarettes on ye?" Four Way Shot asked. "I a-don't like joints."

"Nope, no cigarettes," Arson said. "muscle up and be a man ya wuss!"

His brother lit the lighter and held his joint underneath it for a few seconds, when it was lit he shoved it in his mouth and took a drag from the end. As usual, he started coughing and wheezing, he'd do this all the time. Flashing his eyes, Arson walked forward and sat next to him. His brother lit the lighter again and allowed him to light his blunt. When he took a drag from the end he didn't cough, he had smoked the stuff before and had gotten use to it.

"Nothin' but a smoke after a hard days work eh." Arson chuckled.

"Yeah, jus' wish ye had a cigarette though," his brother coughed. "I ain't a fan o' this stuff."

"Pussy!" Arson yelled.

"I is not!"

The punch was light but he got the point. Turning the thumb wheel, Arson held his blunt under the flame again. It was almost finished and he didn't want to waste any of it. His brother was half done with his, he was slow at smoking and he kept coughing and gasping for air. He hid a laugh and pulled the blunt back to his mouth and was in the process of taking another drag from it when a light blinded him.

"There they are uncle!" he heard. "I saw them sneak out!"

He was paralyzed, he couldn't move, the end of the blunt fell out of his hand. He saw that his brother had shoved his joint in his mouth, he was struggling to swallow it. He had done that once or twice, the taste was horrible but it was one of the ways to not get caught. His mouth was really dry, he saw four bodies behind the light.

"Slasha, you go back home," he heard. "leave us to deal with our disobedient sons."

His vision had cleared and he could see everything now. His brother's father was holding a flashlight in one of his hands, his hat was in the other and his shoulders were constantly rising and falling, his kerchief was a mess and his shirt wasn't buttoned, his pants were the only thing on him that was on properly. He wasn't wearing his boots or his spurs. His father was wearing just his pants, he had probably been aroused from his sleep and had just grabbed his pants and forgotten about his shirt and his boots. His half sister was wearing just her nightgown and a pair of purple slippers, her hair was a mess. The fourth person that was behind the light was his her father, Blade. He was wearing just a robe, a strap of black held it around him, his hair was a mess, it was all over his face, he wasn't wearing anything on his feet. Once his sister was far enough away his father stepped forward, it was then that he noticed the stick in his hand.

"Tex, Blade," he said. "I am livid with rage right now, please tell me what I should do that wouldn't cause more harm to my son than needed."

"Do the first thang Imma gonna do," his uncle said. "talk to him first."

His brother had slumped in his seat, guilt was written all over his face and he saw tears well up in his eyes. His father was walking towards him slowly, when he got to him he sat down on the log beside him. His father and uncle were standing in front of him, looking down at him, he made himself not look up.

"So..."his father started. "when'd you start smoking?"

"Very clever Torch!" Blade hissed. "Why don't you offer him cookies next?"

"How am I suppose to talk to the kid?" his father yelled. "So, what am I suppose to sit down, bring him on my knee and just ask him what's wrong? If so then I already know what's wrong, he's a troubled youth."

"I am not!"

His father looked down at him fast, his father had been standing really close to him and when he had stood up he had knocked himself against him. His uncle's were staring at him hard, not a word was being said, it was very quiet. Feeling anger rise up in him he sat back down and did his usual, he kicked one of his father's feet.

"I am not," he repeated to himself.

"Then what are you?" his father asked.

"Misunderstood." he replied, letting his head fall.