Work in Progress: Study of a Mad Golfer

Inspired by Work in Progress: Study of an Evil Genius by purplegirl761. The idea and concept goes completelyto her-I just changed around our main character! I'm a Duff fan, so I thought I'd try this lovely fan fiction idea with him. I don't think I'll go up to 100, but I'll try my best. :) Most stuff is going to be made up, since we really didn't get to see many episodes with him, therefore not getting many situations or information to write about. The one-shots will be random, ranging from as a wee laddie, to his mad golfer days. Hope ye like it, me lassies and laddies!

I'm giving it the highest rating, because certain subjects will be brought up later. And sorry to any Scots out there if I mess up some kind of information or something like that. I'm not Scottish.

-I tried making this chapter as intense and as emotional as I could. So if my words don't do me justice, just use your imagination.

Grave

He was 24 years old. Will was 26.

And she had been 22 when she died.

Duff Killigan looked at the tombstone of his late sister Carol. Why was it her? Why did it have to be her? He couldn't hold back the tears, or the anger. He was enraging at everyone for letting this happen, even if it wasn't their fault. Only he, his brother, and his father remained. This was the third death so far. It was the last pang in his heart. The last straw. He couldn't take any more of it.

Duff didn't know the path he was going down, from these corrupted upbringings. He was entering a rebellious phase that could not be stopped. He had become a madman, staring down that thick block of stone, with his sister's name on it.

Correction: his late sister.

Duff just couldn't get it across his mind that Carol was gone….for good. She had been the only innocense left in the family. She was the angel among demons. She would have made the Killigan name a wonderful one, with her beauty and her kindness…she could have married a nice man, and would have many sweet little children to balance the new generation of Killigans. Will was dating some lassie, a nice one, strangely…and as for Duff?

Well…no one was really in his life…yet. Could there be? There were many 'fish in the sea', if you'd like to call it that. Surely, with his new job as a professional golfer, he could easily jump in the world of dating. He's been told many lassies had a thing for jocks…

He couldn't think of his job at a time like this. Or lassies. But it was just so hard to realize the truth. The one person who's always been there for him was gone. Carol had always been his defense against Will and Pa. After being called the family rat multiple times did she stand up for him. She was always by his side, embracing him, when the subject of Ma and Gram ever came up. She was always the one to hug him and kiss him, with her warm sweet scent filling his nostrils. They were closer than any two siblings could have been. She was so shy, and innocent. And he was tormented, broken, angry.

But this was it. His reign of being tormented and being broken was over. Now, only the anger remained.

As he looked over to the two men standing next to him—his father, Allan, and his brer, Will, Duff thought of nothing but pure rage. Pa looked glum, but he knew for a fact that it was fake. It was only for appearances. Pa couldn't care less about Carol. He never did. Will was his favorite, for some strange, impossible reason, and it was completely obvious that her death had absolutley no effect on him.

And as for Will—he wasn't even frowning. As a matter of fact wha—is….IS THAT A SMILE?

Duff's fists tightened so hard, his nails dug into his skin and made him bleed a bit. But he couldn't feel it. His attention was devoted to that smile on his brer's lips.

A smile? At Carol's funeral! What in God's name could he be thinking about?

Was he thinking about how all the times he fought with Carol, and called her names and pulled her hair when they were little, or maybe about all the times when he got her and Duff in trouble for something that they didn't do…no, scratch that; for something he did? Was he thinking 'Ha! Look where ye are now, Carol. Look at what fate was brought upon ye. And look at I—I told ye, I just knew ye would end up bad like this. But ye didn't listen te me, did ye? Nei. Oh, I'm just waitin' fer the day when tis Duff's turn, lass. Then ye could laugh and sing all ye want tegether down where ye are now.'? Or…no. Most likely he was just rubbing it off, the death, like it was absolutley nothing to him, and thinking about his girlfriend, Mary. She was staying at the castle with him for a few weeks, now. She's been staying in his room, Will. Duff didn't even want to think about what his brer was imagining…or better yet, remembering.

But seeing that little smirk on his face, at this time, in this situation, just boiled his starving guts. He tolerated everything…everything….up to this point. Through these stressful 24 years of his life he finally couldn't take it any longer. Carol needed some justice, for crying out loud. He was through. Done. He wasn't going to be Duff Killigan, family wimp. Family rat. Stupid little Duff who can't do anything right. Silly Duff who tries so hard but only fails. Duff Killigan, that short, stout man who golfs really well but has serious issues.

Before he knew it, Duff's fist had hit his brer's face with enough impact, it sent him flying against a nearby tree.

Will was dazed, bloody, and wide-eyed. Allan was furious, instantly snapping out of his fake remorse.

But Duff smiled at his new revealation. Allan thought he could just yell at his son for the billionth time. But he wouldn't expect the outbreak that Duff could feel coming on. He surely didn't expect the violence. That was for sure.

"Ye bampot! What the hell is wrong with ye, ye ungraceful little f—"

Duff saved himself, because he saw it coming. Allan was going to strike him (again, for the billionth time), giving him the same effect as Will.

As Allan forced his fist into his son's jaw, his hand was stopped by Duff's very tight grip. He looked at his father in the eye with such rage. Such unexpected rage. Allan had never seen, yet never expected his wimpy son Duff, who cried out in pain and retreated to such stupid activities for escape like golf and cooking (a woman's work!) to contain so much rage. It surprised him how scary it made him feel.

Duff shouted as loud as he could, which, in effect, was quite louder than he expected his voice to be. Something tiny inside of him gave him a little 'thumbs up' to his efficient, chilling outburst.

"DON'T YE DARE THINK YE CAN GET AWAY WITH SUCH AN UNAFFECTED ATTITUDE AT A TIME LIKE THIS! YE NEVER EVEN CARED FER YE DAUGHTER! YE LET HER DIE LIKE IT WAS NOTHING, JUST LIKE YE LET MA AND GRAM!" Duff shrieked. Allan was so shocked, but that last part got him stirring again. He was going to say something along the lines of how it was in no fault of his to let his daughter and mother die…and how he was especially not responsible for his wife's death. It wasn't, really. It had scarred him terribly, and caused him to do things that he wouldn't have otherwise done if she hadn't passed away, like the beatings…

And it was just a coincidence that his daughter died the same way as his wife. It had absolutely no relation, nor did he have anything to do with it. But Duff didn't let him speak.

"I've been SICK of seeing the bias that Carol has gotten all through the years, and I am NOT letting ye and Will treat her death like it's zilch, and that she was not a soul! Ye NEVER saw the good in her, but isntead ye choose te love the corrupted little child who grew up te be a OGRE. The boy who's done everything in the book, against everything, and in ye wee SCREWED UP head ye think this is the greatest gift God has ever known?" Duff asked, pointing to his half-conscious brother. "If ye are not going te remorse her death than just LEAVE. She doesn't need ye're fake tears fer nothing!"

With those last words, Duff pushed his father back at least three feet. Allan was surprised—he never even knew his son was that strong. Neither did he think he could ever get or look that angry…

Will was still hanging by the tree, the whole lower portion of his face covered with blood. But soon he regained consciousness and realized what had happened.

'Duff punched me.' He realized. 'Wait…Duff? No, not Duff. That certainly just wasn't possible. Me brer did nothing in his life but cry over everything, the babe.'

But it happened. It was true. This new Duff that was emerging—this angry, viscious Duff—was real.

But Will could care less about this new person that was emerging through his brer. All he thought about was the fact that he was punched in the face, and he was bleeding. And his brer did it. His feeble, poignant brer.

Will forcefully got up and was to attack his brer from behind. He yelled ferociously with agression as he aimed for Duff.

But Duff was quick. He turned around, caught Will from his side, and pushed his back against his father, who continued to stand there in amazement of this evolution.

Duff screached against the two of them, so horrendously that it was expected he was truly some sort of creature. After 24 years of such a feeble man, and now this? It wasn't Duff. Not anymore.

Allan and Will couldn't do anything but follow Duff's orders by leaving the graveyard. They walked fast, back to the parking lot where the car was. They were halfway there when they looked back, and caught the old Duff kneeling down in front of Carol's grave, crying hysterically out of anger and sadness and anxiety and everything in between.

There was a new Duff, yes, but it obviously didn't mean the old Duff was gone. It showed in moments like these.