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Anada 045
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A A N N A A D D A A
A A N N N A A D D A A
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A "Cure The Chaos Part 2" aNAda #45 A
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A by Big Daddy Bill 04/16/00 A
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Lesson 2: Try Harder
"Brian! Get in here and clean up this mess you made!" shouted Brian's
father, from the kitchen, knowing who had just walked in the front door.
Brian sighed and headed up the stairs, his hand clutching the
railing. No "Hello Brian, how was your day Brian?" Just anger, that's all
he ever got from his father. Brian closed the door to his room and locked
it, tossing his bookbag to the cluttered floor and sitting heavily on his
bed. This was the best part of the day, Brian thought to himself, sitting
here in quiet in my room with nothing to disturb me. That soon was
interupted by the pounding that occured on Brian's door.
"Did you hear me??" the muffled yell came through the door. "How
many times do I have to tell you to pick up after yourself you lazy son-of-
a-bitch!"
Brian said nothing, his eyes closed and his hands folded peacefully
in his lap. He just wished he would go away, his father. Ever since his
mother died, his father hasn't shown the slightest bit of positive emotion.
Brian thought, I guess I can't blame him, I would wig if Kelly ever died or
something.
"Get done with your homework and come downstairs, we need to talk!"
More of his father's voice found its way through Brian's door, and Brian
responded with a simple "Okay."
Brian sat for a few minutes, picking at a hangnail that had been
bugging him since early this morning. Then he reached over to his bedside
stand, and opening the drawer he withdrew a Marlboro Light Menthol box.
Flipping open the top of the box, as he delved into his pocket for a
lighter, Brian placed a joint he took out of the box between his lips.
Closing the cigarette box and tossing it on his nightstand, Brian held his
hand up to the marijuana cigarette and lit it with the other hand, puffing a
few times to get it lit then inhaling deeply the rich smoke it produced.
Sitting back on his bed, Brian withdrew a .45 caliber automatic pistol from
his bedside stand as well.
Brian thought of the power he held in his hands, as the pot smoke he
was sucking down escaped from his lungs, only to be replaced by another
breath of the aromatic herb smoke. Brian flipped the safety off of the gun,
and taking the joint from his lips placed instead the barrel of the pistol
inside his mouth. Brian closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.
*click*
A grin cracked his thin lips, and Brian withdrew the pistol from his
mouth. He had done that a hundred times, and for some reason it had always
made him smile. Placing the joint back between his lips he took a few more
hits from it, then cautiously snuffed it out on the ashtray beside his bed.
Brian clicked the safety on the gun, then placed it back into his
nightstand, along with the cigarette box, and closed it.
Smelling now of cologne and smoke, Brian headed downstairs to face
his father. He rounded the corner and walked into the living room, where
his father sat in his Lay-Z-Boy chair, watching some USA special on TV.
Brian glanced at his father, brushing the hair from his eyes, and sat down
on the couch against the wall, a few feet away from his father.
Without looking at him, his father spoke. "Brian, I got a call from
one of your teachers today. She says you caused some kind of disturbance in
class today by... throwing your soda all over the room?" His father left it
in a questionable tone, then he waited for Brian's answer.
"No dad, some punk next to me kicked my desk and it fell over, I
swea.."
"Don't lie to me goddamn it!!" Brian's father interupted him with a
scream, as he got up from his chair and headed towards Brian. "She also
says you have problems with the other students, and you never pay attention
in class! What the fuck is wrong with you anyway?!"
Brian flinched from the yelling, but sat still, his father only
inches away from him now. "I.. I'm tryin' but.." Brian jerked to the side
as his father planted a hand on the side of his skull with some degree of
force, causing Brian to fall on his side on the couch.
"Didn't I raise you better? Didn't I teach you not to be a FUCK UP?"
Brian's father continued to scream, his face red and sweaty, his eyes wide
and glossy.
Brian smelled the beer on his breath and turned away, laying there
placidly while his father punched him suddenly in the side. Brian sucked in
a breath of air and groaned into the couch pillows, and he thought his ribs
were cracked.
Brian's father stood there for a few more moments, what seemed like
hours, and breathed heavily through his nose. Brian just laid there,
feeling the sharp stab of pain in his side which dulled the throbbing one in
his head. Finally, Brian's father turned away, heading into the kitchen.
Brian was motionless for a bit more, then raising his head he looked around
the room. Whatever buzz he had from the weed he was smoking was gone now,
replaced instead by a numbing fear and a building anger. Anger that he
brought home with him from school. Anger that he had for the teacher that
always assumed but never saw, or even wanted to. Anger from the way his
father treated him at home, always wanting more. Anger towards his mother
for leaving him here with this monster. Brian stood, determination on his
face, and moved towards the kitchen.
Stepping onto the linoleum flooring of his kitchen, Brian saw his
father standing by the refrigerator, a bottle of Bud Ice in his hand, facing
the door that Brian walked through.
"Listen, Brian, I'm sorry I got so angry," his father started, as
Brian walked around the table and got closer to him. "Sometimes I just get
so upset at you for not giving it your all, when I know you have a lot of
potential." Brian moved closer, his hand closing on an empty beer bottle by
the sink. "I love you, more than anything, and I want you to forgive me."
His father looked up from the floor at Brian who was next to him, then his
glassy eyes focused on the beer bottle in Brian's hand.
"Brian?" his father croaked in question, looking unsurely up into
Brian's eyes. Brian blinked, shook his head and set the beer bottle down.
"Sure dad, I love you too," Brian mumbled, wrapping his arms around
his father's trunk. His father returned the hug.
Quickly Brian brought his knee between his father's legs, mashing the
testicles that hung there. Brian's father yelped and dropped the embrace he
had with his son, grasping between his legs and falling to the floor.
"MOTHERFUCKER!!" Brian screamed, whipping his foot into his father's
face as he lay prone on the kitchen floor. Brian kicked him again and
again, screaming obscenities at his bleeding, drunken father. "DON'T EVER
TOUCH ME AGAIN!!" Brian hollered, watching the blood pool by his father's
head. Brian stood there for a second, listening to his father spit and
gurgle on his own blood, then turned and briskly walked out of the kitchen,
the only thought in his mind was to go upstairs and finish that joint that
seemed to be calling his name.
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{ (c)2000 aNAda e'zine * * aNAda045 * by Big Daddy Bill }
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