So far, so good? Thank you to my first reviewers and followers! I look forward to hearing your thoughts

.::.

I could tell it was gonna be a bad night from the moment I walked through the rusted front door of my trailer. It was nearly dark, and I had just spent the last four hours in the woods getting' high with my best friend, Jimmy.

I was immediately greeted by the familiar sight of Dad sittin' in his scratched up, second-hand Lay-Z Boy chair. He had a beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other, and a nearly-empty twenty-four pack sittin' right by his feet.

"Hey, Dad." I swallowed, dropping my book bag to the floor.

He looked over at me with intoxicated, droopy eyes. "Where the hell you been?" He asked, taking a puff of a cigarette.

"Went to the woods with Jimmy to check on the plants." We 've been growing marijuana deep in the woods for the past two years now and thankfully we had yet to get caught. It was a quick and easy way to make money to support dad's bad habit and help us out when we were runnin' low on groceries. Lately though, we hadn't been sellin' as much. It was getting closer to summertime. Summertime meant summer jobs, which meant drug tests, which you obviously need to pass. Business always picked back up around August though.

"You sell any today? I'm gonna need another case a beer for tomorrow.

Damn. I had been hopin' like hell he'd forget so I could use it for the Tom Petty concert comin' up in a couple weeks. Even Jimmy's gonna go. My heart sank as I emptied my pockets and handed over what I had earned for the day-$40, even.

He snatched it from me and as he counted through the bills, I decided to play my daily game of Russian Roulette and reached for a beer out of the box by his feet. Some days he didn't mind sharin', some days he did. Never knew what you were gonna get.

"You didn't earn but $40 today?"

I shook my head hesitantly-unsettled by the irritation in his raspy, deep voice. "Only sold an eighth to that Summrell kid today. Said that's all he could afford this week."

"Yah prob'ly gon' have to get another job. Least 'till business picks back up."

I nodded my head just to spare a lecture. He knows damn well I been trying to get a job for two weeks now, but nobody wants to hire Merle Dixon's brother. My brother's bad record had made it hard to get a job around here. He was well-known for it.

This whole family's fucked. I reminded myself as I headed to my bedroom a few minutes later with my second beer in hand.

.::.

It was nearing midnight before I finally found myself ensconced in the comfort of my bed. I had my headphones on, listening to the newest Sonic Youth c.d before the vivid memory of Ms. Robert's chest popped randomly into my head. I wondered if she had worn matching underwear today. I wondered how she'd look naked. Now that I was thinking about it, I was surprised to admit that I hadn't spent every minute of class studying her curves.

More or less, I always had my nose buried in a note book full of bullshit drawings. God knows I wasn't blessed with brains or looks, but at least I got some kinda talent goin' for me.

.::.

I ended up skippin' school the next day. Not long after I fell asleep last night Dad halfway kicked my bedroom door down and got pissed that I drank three of his beers an hour before, as if his drunk ass hadn't watched me pull them from the box sittin' right in front of his feet.

"You need to get yer ass a fuckin' job, boy! Sittin' back here yankin' on yer fuckin' dick all day ain't gonna put dinner on the table or beer in the goddamn fridge!"

I guess it was a mixture of being startled and exhausted that made me lash back.

"Ain't you fuckin' sick of drinkin' yet, Dad? I mean, we can't even hardly keep a loaf of bread in the house!"

"That's why I'm tellin' yer lazy ass to get up and find a job. Ain't like you're worth a damn in school. Ya might as well drop out and earn some fuckin' money."

"Earn money for YOU? You want me to get a job so I can buy you some more fuckin' beer? How about YOU go get a fuckin' job, Dad?! Ain't nothin' stoppin' you!" I scoffed. "The fuck is wrong with you? Lettin' your own kid go to fuckin' jail for growin' pot to make you some extra money..."

I was referring to my older brother, Merle, who surprisingly even has a harder life than I do. "I mean seriously, don't you fuckin' think? Don't you fuckin' care?!"

.::.

That was the last thing I remember. Next thing I know, it's almost noon and I'm waking up with a splitting headache. My jaw was real sore too, I realized immediately. Before I did anything, I peeked out my blinds to see if Dad's truck was gone or not. Thank fuckin' God. I breathed a sigh of relief and fell back into the warmth and comfort of my pillows and sheets.

.::.

I awoke again an hour later. Once again, I peeked outside. Still gone. Prob'ly at the bar. I rubbed my tired eyes but immediately winced in pain and pulled my hands away. I rolled over slowly, stood to my feet, and stumbled towards the bathroom just outside of my bedroom door. He had left it in total shambles, just like the rest of the house I soon noticed.

I tucked my stuff into my boxers after relieving myself and stared at my grisly appearance in the mirror. Bastard got me pretty bad last night. I tried wiping the dried blood from my lip, but it barely budged without the help of a wet cloth.

I headed back to my room and got dressed as quickly as I could-sliding on an old pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. I had made up my mind that I wanted to get the hell out of the house before he came back home, so I made sure I did just that.

.::.

"Why don't ya come stay with me?" Jimmy asked, skipping a smooth stone into the dark lake ahead.

I chewed on my thumbnail as I watched him toss another stone. "Can't. You know he'd show up lookin' for me when he ran outta beer money."

"So? My dad'll kick his ass. Seriously, man. He's gon' end up takin' it too far one night."

I knew he was right and it just made me feel even worse. As much as I wanted to get the hell away from my dad I was too afraid to actually leave.

"Plus, man, my parent's don't care if I have girls over. They let us hang out in my room and everything."

"Jimmy, when was the last fuckin' time I ever had a girlfriend?" I scowled.

"I'm just sayin', man. Damn."

I breathed anxiously and ran a hand through the length of my hair. "Sorry. I'm just fuckin' tired. Sick of fuckin' everything and I don't know how to fix none of it."