by Erb, Thom
And freedom.
Graham stood up and stared down and the butchered remains of what used to be his biological Father. He smiled. Slipping through gore, he maneuvered to the open fridge and pulled out the grape Kool-Aid. He took a long swig directly from the pitcher. He then dropped the empty Tupperware container onto what he only could assume was his Father’s liver. But he wasn’t sure. It had been the biggest organ inside the diabolical man’s body, but now it lay scattered in pieces.
You’ve done well Graham. But we have much work to do. This is just but the beginning of many wrongs that you must right. Are you ready? Are you ready my Avenger? Are you ready, my son? The Voice beamed inside Graham’s mind and made him smile.
“I will never again let any injustice go unpunished. On this, I swear!” Graham shouted into the dark apartment. He then went to his bedroom; packed some clothes, a few cassettes and a John Lennon Halloween mask his mother had bought for him last year.
Good, my Avenger… Now that you are ready, let us begin.
“What now? What’s next?” Graham asked, carrying a big backpack over his shoulder, while holding his Father’s pistol he had found under his parent’s bed.
Graceland. The Voice commanded.
And the Voice would be Graham’s constant companion for the rest of his cold and blood-filed days.
Spencer Weaver Gets Rebooted
Spencer Weaver Gets Rebooted
“Be cool, or be cast out.”
Some people look back fondly on their days of high school with distorted, nostalgic lens-filled mEmories of Friday night footballs games, the prom and backseat gropings. Unfortunately, for loner Spencer Weaver, all the dreaded halls had to offer were nothing but gaping, puss-filled scars – both on and deep under his pale skin. For the lucky few, the same halls of Carrigan Springs High School were paved with gold and they ruled them with cruel, iron fists over the unfortunate peasants. Spencer hated the school along with all of its troglodyte students. He couldn't get away from the backwater farm town soon enough.
Everyone viewed him as a loser; the fat geek, with enough loose skin to make his entire body look like a turkey neck-another genetic legacy from his absent mother. His last mEmory of her was her sitting next to him on the living room floor. She was crying. She cried a lot.
“Chief, Mommy’s going away for a while and I want you to be good for Daddy while I’m gone, okay?” She sounded like a hundred marbles inside a jar of mayonnaise. Spencer could remember his father standing in the kitchen; balling his eyes out and doing a bad job at keeping the hysterical whimpers from his young ears.
“Mommy wishes she could stay sweetheart, but there’s something Mommy needs to take care of. You make sure you pick up all your toys. Brush your teeth. Do well in school. Oh, my little Chief Thundercloud. Don’t cry. I love you. Be a good boy for Daddy, okay Chief?” She kissed his forehead. He could still feel her lips to this very day. Then she stood up, smiled at him, walked away and out the door of their small trailer. She never looked back. That was the last time he saw or heard from her. That was until a few months ago.
“Spencer? Spencer? MR. WEAVER! You were saying…about the monster?” Mrs. Deline’s voice snapped him from his daydream. The classroom exploded with laughter.
“Uh… wh–? Oh yeah, Ghoul! See, Keene wasn’t just using the scary monster to kill and eat people. No, not at all. He used the ghoul to illustrate how evil a flesh-eating ghoul can live inside us all. Oh yeah, he also wanted to show that there are far worse monsters in the real world than any horror writer could ever imagine in their fictional one. See what I mean?” Spencer’s words came out warbly and panicked. He looked around the room, never stopping at anyone. He returned to the teacher, who was standing at the front of his row, holding a heavily dog-eared copy of Ghoul. She smiled, nodded, and shot the rest of the class a harsh look that fell on blind eyes. He didn’t care. She was the best teacher the school had and she always understood him. To her, it didn’t matter what he looked like, how much he weighed, or that he came from one of the poorest families in town. She saw talent in him. That gave him hope. That was all he needed. While the rest of his class laughed and made comments, he and the teacher ignored them. Her room was like Lothlórien and he never wanted to leave its safe haven. As with the rest of his Murphy’s Law-filled life, the bell rang as if on cue. He could sense salivating wolves outside the classroom door.
Spencer tugged absently at the bottom of his sweat-soaked Doctor Who t-shirt that clung to his frumpy body, like a second layer of skin. The long walk through the crowded halls was like running the “Humiliation Gauntlet”. Today wouldn’t be any different. He turned up the volume on his iPod and stepped into the crowded hall. He absently bumped into Bekah Perkins, causing her to drop her iPhone in mid-text. She was one of the hottest girls in school and head cheerleader – a Lady Gaga wannabe and about as smart as a box of rocks. Making matters worse, she was the girlfriend to the biggest jock-douchebag in school – Justin Martin.
“Hey, fat ass, watch where you’re walking!” Bekah shouted. Laughing, she shoved him, then was joined by the gaggle of blonde-clones surrounding her.
“Sorry.” He kept his head low and shuffled away, trying to ignore the name calling. He turned the volume up, letting RUSH tune her out, creating an emotional-anesthetic through his earbuds.
Have another Big Mac, lard ass!
Waddle, waddle, and waddle.
Now there IS the Deadliest Catch!
Got your harpoon ready, man? Weaver off the port bow!
Every joke was as lame and tired as the next one. But, their was one burning joke that was always on top of the Hit List, and it cut like a million Lightsabers: “Hey, Weaver, how’s Mommy?” That was the worst one. The words were said far too often and never stopped hurting. It made him shutter with an all-pervasive dread; knowing that even if he moved halfway around the world, he might never be truly free.
Graduation was only two months away, then he was out of there. Away from the "Marquis-de-Sade" inspired hellhole, away from his workaholic father and painful life. He hoped he had it in his fractured heart to hang on.
He followed the cold-tiled walls, while keeping his head low and holding his book bag close, trying hard to disappear into the crowd. He was sure all the laughter was at his expense, but he kept his thick legs pumping, hoping to pass by unnoticed. His habitual thoughts were shattered away as his cell phone alerted: Exterminate…Exterminate. He never used to get any texts or emails. Except from his best friend, Mikey Collins, who had moved to North Carolina last year. But, for the past three months, he had been receiving emails from someone very special. Someone he hadn’t spoken to in years.
His Mother.
His slippery hands fumbled inside his front pocket and pulled out the phone. Yes, it was from his Mother. He clicked the open button and read the text.
Hello, Spenc. How’s your day going?
Hi, Mom! Headed to lunch now. Just came from Mrs. Deline’s class.
Oh, did she like your report?
Ah, Mom. I nailed it! She loved it! Come on. It’s my favorite book. I told ya all about that right?
LOL... Yes, sweetie. You did. Over and over and over again. ;o)
Oh. Yeah, sorry. I get stoked about that stuff. You know that. LOL.
I do honey. I do. How are things with that Martin boy?
The same stuff. He texted back. Shuffling forward as the line snailed along.
I’m so sorry sweetie. I wish your father would do something about him! I’ve been worried about you! I can only imagine just how tough it is for you.
Yeah, it sucks. It is what it is. Dad works nights now and doesn’t have time to come in. He does the best he can. His sweaty thumbs slipped on the keypad as he felt a tap on his shoulder.
He looked up, his heart stalled, and his mouth instantaneously dried up as Anna Richmond stood before him, in all her Emo splendor. He felt his breath flee from his throat. He’d been crushing on her since the fourth grade. She
was perfection – pale skin that danced with light brown freckles. She was a book worm like he was; with doe-like blue eyes that held Spencer in a Medusa-like state whenever she batted her long lashes, while sitting next to him on the bus every day. Her long, reddish-brown hair softly brushed against her tight blue jeans.
Frilly black and orange crepe paper streamers and posters, selling the approaching prom, served as a backdrop behind her. It was like another stake in the heart – a reminder that she too was just another unrequited crush, doomed to the same Shakespearean fate as all the others.
How’s that girl you’ve had the hots for? Have you asked her the spring formal yet?
Gotta go Mom….text u later. He clasped the phone shut and shoved it into the pocket. Lady Luck always seemed to find ironic humor in kicking him in the junk every chance the cold-hearted wench got.
“Hey Spenc.” Her thin lips formed into a perfect smile that could convince him to hand over his soul. Her cutting in line was a drop in the Grand Canyon compared to what he’d do for her. He didn’t have many friends. Although, he did seem to have a few girls that were drawn to him. They were the ones that rode his bus, using his comfy shoulder to cry on when they were scorned by some insensitive jerk, who just wanted to get in their pants. He didn’t care, he told himself. He had read about Buddhist monks and their ideas of reincarnation. They reminded him of his very own Wheel of Samsara; where he was reborn every few bus rides, dying again at the end of the next tear-filled trip. He cared too much, that was his cross to bear for sure. A glutton for punishment was his fate. He was a sucker and they all knew it. He was such a “good listener” and a “great friend”. A truer curse word has never been spoken he had always thought.
Despite all the girls that used him for all his mad Dr. Phil or Oprah-like therapeutic skills, one seemed different. She actually forced him to look into her eyes when he spoke and she really listened. She didn’t just stare at him blankly, waiting for him to finish.
“Are you okay?” She smiled.
“Uh...yeah, I’m good.” He smiled, hoping his red cheeks didn’t give him away.
“You sure?” She laughed and nudged him as the lunch line inched forward. “You look like you’re about to toss your lunch even before we’ve dined on its culinary goodness.” Her laugh sounded like angels singing, making him smile.
“Yuppers. Right as rain, good lady. I didn’t see you standing there.” He looked at her and laughed again.
“Oh, I really liked your report today.” She always made his otherwise lonely life manageable. With her, he could truly be himself – fat geekazoid or not.
“Really? You really dug it?” He smiled wide and brought his excited gaze to hers as she nodded fervently.
“Oh yeah. It was great. I don’t read that gory stuff you like. You know I’m more of a Twilight girl.” She patted her backpack where the latest sparkling vampire drivel meekly peeked out the top as if even it was embarrassed to be seen in public.
“Uh, yeah. I almost forgot your horribly bad taste in books.” He let out a loud belly laugh, his head dropped, and his face felt on fire. An uncontrollable smile breached his round face.
“Haha…very funny. You’re just a book snob!” She punched him in the arm and they both laughed. “You should laugh out loud more often. It suits you.” She smiled and nodded again.
“Hey, is that our resident fat ass?” A deep, booming voice shattered the din of impatient lunch line conversation.
Spencer could make out that voice above the din of all the other rednecks, Emo-head cases and gangsta-wannabes. That soul-wrenching, scrotum shrinking voice always sent the same black-as-the-abyss-doom cloud over him, chilling his blood as it insidiously enveloped him.
That voice belonged to Justin Martin.
Justin Martin was Satan incarnate. His worst enemy. He was his Darth Vader, Sauron, Kahn, The First and Lex Luthor. All piled up into a six foot six, two-hundred thirty pound jock. Martin and his inbred band of under-achieving Neanderthals had made Spencer’s life a living hell since kindergarten.
Spencer cringed, as his smile and laughter ran hell bent for leather to the shadows of the hallway. He wished that just once, he could meld with the drab walls and disappear. Sadly, that wish had long ago been ignored. He gulped deep, following the line past the graffiti painted alcove where a payphone used to be.
Shit, Man! Please just leave me alone! Spencer bit his lip and tried to shrink his body as small as his big frame would allow. He even thought about trying to hide behind Anna. But being the scared nerd was one thing, a first rate coward who hides behind girls was a whole other kettle of social suicide.
“Don’t let those Visigoths bother you, Spenc. They’re just angry because someone forgot to shave their knuckles before their walking upright class today.” Anna tried to make him relax, but Spencer was already curling up like a turtle stuck in the middle of the road, bracing for impact from the eighteen-wheeler speeding his way.
He tried to ignore the loud taunts by Sammy Garzono and the death stare from Justin Martin. His text alarm went off and Spencer fumbled for his phone.
It was from his mom. He clumsily shoved his cell phone back into his pocket.
A blur from his right startled him and he flinched back into the cold wall. Anna grabbed at him, trying to help.
“I see the circus is back in town.” Bekah sneered at Spencer, as she clung onto Justin, burying her pink tongue into his mouth. Spencer looked away as she groped at the bulge in his jeans.
“Nah, babe. We’re just having a nice chat with Weaver and his skank here.” Martin ran his thick tongue along the faux-tan on his girlfriend’s face, while his cruel gaze never left Spencer.
“Now, Weaver, I know a chunk of beef like you needs to eat, but for fuck sake, can’t your lard ass wait your turn?” Martin peered down at him with a cocked eyebrow and a wide sneer.
“Ssss...Sorry. It’s just…” Weaver averted his eyes to the tight weave of the rust colored carpet. His cell phone buzzed again and the Daleks chimed loud in the hallway – a fitting soundtrack to his pubic hell.
“Apologies are like assholes, meat wagon. Everybody’s got ‘em.” Sammy heckled from behind Martin, who just stood there like an intimidating wall of shitbagness. Justin crossed his big arms over his barrel chest and continued to stare down at Spencer. Bekah just laughed, her orange face lost in her iPhone.
“Sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to…I was just…” He knew it was a waste of time to even bother.
“Ah, hell, J. It’s a good thing we got here in time, cuz if we didn’t, Fat Fuck here might’ve cleaned the whole place out.” Sammy laughed, looking like an Italian scarecrow, all the while hiding in the big kid’s shadow.
Spencer’s phone’s text alert rang again. He fumbled to turn the ringer off.
“Somethin’ tells me that fat ass here could easily pound down all the food those cow lunch bitches have in there. You weren’t gonna eat all the food were ya?” The square-jawed jock bent down and grinned in Spencer’s sweaty face, poking a strong finger into his heaving chest.
“Of course not. Why would–” Spencer’s reply was cut short as Sammy popped his rat-like face around Martin’s shoulder.
“Or maybe, he was tryin’ to impress book bitch?” Martin ran his big hand through Anna’s long hair and winked at her, eyeing her up and down like a piece of steak. He stepped between Spencer and the shaking girl, and grabbed her firmly at the waist with his big hands.
“Why don’t you forget this shitbag here and come with us?” Martin blew her a kiss.
“Get your feces covered hands off me you vile excuse for a living organism!” Anna slapped at his hands and pulled away.
Spencer could feel his heart pounding and his face burning. The last thing he wanted was for this dirt bag to mess with Anna. He could take the abuse. Heck, the ass-kicking and continuous verbal abuse was an everyday occurrence. For him, not Anna. Spencer knew he would do anything to prevent that humiliation. Even if that meant
pissing off the toughest bad ass in the entire school.
Spencer felt a lump grow the size of the Doctor’s Tartis in his throat. He shot Anna a glance. Unfortunately, Martin, who usually was dumber than a box of rocks, caught the look and must have noticed the rage growing on Spencer’s face. A wicked smile creased his broad face.
Martin caught Spencer balling up his thick fist and laughed aloud. “Oh, look who woke up with a set of balls today!” His big form loomed, but Spencer gave no quarter, as Anna tugged at his fleshy shoulder.
“Leave her alone.” Spencer felt the sweat soaking through his shirt, his chubby knees feeling like a drunken puppeteer’s strings. Only by the force of sheer will and livid anger, was Spencer able to keep up a strong front.
Martin exploded with a roaring laugh and his entourage joined in. He quickly regained his composure and stared into Spenser’s wide eyes.
“You wanna go bitch?” Martin sneered, looming over Spencer.
“Fuck you, Justin,” Spencer said. He heard the harsh words well before he realized they escaped his trembling mouth. Anna grabbed at Spencer’s shoulder. He pulled away.
“Ha! Bring it!” Spencer found a strength he never knew he had. Most of the time, he deeply feared an ass kicking. Today, he didn’t care. He didn’t know if it was the romantic image of him defending his lady’s honor or that finally, once in his life, his mother was there…after all these years his life made sense. Much to his surprise, her love did mean the world to him... almost as if it gave him purpose. Either way, after twelve long years, he’d had enough.
“Fuck ‘em up, J!” Sammy’s eyes seemed to grow to the size of Frisbees and he punched his boney fists together, salivating at the promise of geek blood.
“Ya should’ve just kept your mouth shut, bitch!” Martin grabbed Spencer by the shirt, clinching his other hand into an all-too-familiar cinder block sized fist. Sammy shoved Anna back with one hand away from Spencer.
“Knock it off. All of you!” a deep voice doomed, freezing everyone in the hallway. It had come from a tall man with bushy, salt and pepper hair and beard. Martin ignored the order pulled Spencer in closer.