The Purple Tux
With just enough education to perform.Friday, September 03, 2004
Preceding chapter found at
www.livejournal.com/users/bipolarmagnet
Josh focused on his writing board and gathered his wits. He grabbed a marker, but his hand wavered.
"Josh, watch out!" Sammie shrieked.
He turned around just in time to see Kyle's fist strike his stomach. With a sickening wheeze, Josh found himself lying on the floor of his own living room, gasping for breath. His mouth remained open in a surprised "O" and his chest heaved with every intake. Crumpled on the floor, with his eyes bugging out, Josh could make a sound even if he'd wanted to. If he had a voice, he'd unleash a stream of obscenities.
Before he could get up, Kyle kicked him a couple more times. It wasn't the first time Josh had been kicked, but this was probably the most painful such experience. Josh could only lie still and hope that Kyle wasn't cruel enough to kick a man in the head. Fortunately, Josh found he was still coherent enough to have the sense to protect his head with his arms even as he tried rolling over to protect his private parts. Those are the parts that another man should never touch, especially with his feet.
Sammie shrieked again. Or perhaps it was her original shriek. Things seemed to be going in and out of time. It was all so confusing. How long had he been on the ground? It couldn't have been too long. A girl's vocal cords would have started bleeding if he'd really been lying there as long as he thought. No, it only felt like he'd been down for a long time because it hurt so much.
"Stop it, you mother-!" Sammie yelled.
Surprisingly, Kyle stopped.
"You little prick," Kyle muttered at Josh. "Why'd you go and hit me for? You wanna fight? Huh?"
The assault over, Josh slowly staggered to his feet, steadying himself by reaching out an unsteady arm over to the wall. Nothing broken, he realized. No blood, either. It only hurt to breathe. The room was silent. Sammie's face was red. Josh tried to catch his breath. Sammie quickly walked over and put an arm around Josh, helping him gather himself. Kyle glared viciously at the two of them.
Kyle was about ready to leave Josh's house, but when Josh felt Sammie put her arm around him, he couldn't help but smirk triumphantly, as if to say, Who's got the MORAL victory, buddy?
Kyle spat on the floor and let loose an unintelligible growl as he charged and tackled Josh to the floor.
Despite the scuffle, a single, simple sound jarred the three teens. It was the sound of the doorknob turning. Josh's parents had returned home.
Crossing Paths
Episode 6: The Father
"Josh, we're home," called Josh's father as he escorted his wife into the house.
"Mr. Kimmel," Sammie stammered. It was all she got out before Josh's father saw another boy straddling his son in the living room.
"Kids, what in God's name is going on around here?" Mr. Kimmel inquired with raised eyebrows.
"Hope you kids had a good time. I need a shower badly!" Mrs. Kimmel practically flew up the stairs into the bathroom, hardly sparing a glance for the scene in the living room.
Josh took advantage of Kyle's shock and he threw a punch at Kyle's face that made a sound like two drum sticks tapping each other. Kyle roared and tried to headbutt his foe, only to miss and smack his forehead against the carpet. Hollering with pain, Kyle got up and regained his footing, his left hand massaging his bruised head.
"Whoa, whoa, what is going on here!" Mr. Kimmel exclaimed. In an instant, he was across the room, restraining his son. "I demand to know the meaning of this!"
Before Kyle could speak, Sammie offered, "It's not what you think, sir! It's just a misunderstanding. We're really sorry!"
Mr. Kimmel was forming a response and was in the process of opening his mouth when Kyle ran up to Josh (still neatly restrained by his own father) and managed a hard right hook against Josh's temple. Then, realizing what he'd done, Kyle backed off slowly, his eyes widening in horror.
"Oh, crap… I, uh, really shouldn't have done that," Kyle said weakly. He knew that Josh's father was a hardworking construction worker who wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty.
Mr. Kimmel, tranquil as a spring meadow, calmly checked Josh to make sure his son was all right. After being certain it was simply a bruise pulsing on his son's temple, Mr. Kimmel looked Kyle over.
"Kid, please explain yourself. Now," he stated simply.
Sammie could only stand in shock. Josh tended his growing bruise. He knew it was going to throb badly tonight.
"Sir, um, we just had an argument that got a little out of hand. I didn't mean to hit your, s-son, but he started it. He hit me first," Kyle cringed.
Mr. Kimmel walked over to Kyle. They stood inches apart. Kyle blanched. He couldn't help but notice how rugged Mr. Kimmel's hands looked. Mr. Kimmel was barely taller, but he was twice as wide.
When Mr. Kimmel sighed, Kyle almost wet himself.
"Look, I don't care who started what. I won't have violence in this house, and I do not tolerate your childish… brutality. I know kids your age often feel rambunctious, but you shouldn't hit other people." Mr. Kimmel glanced at Sammie. He was stern, but a hint of a bemused smile crossed his lips. Kyle was sure this was the end of him.
Josh's father continued, "You don't look like a foolish young boy to me. I've seen you at some of your basketball games. Why, you're almost a grown man, by the look of you. Real men don't engage in this prattle. I mean, what is this? Hitting my son in our house? Act your age. You two ought to be friends. It's nonsense to fight. It's immature to hit each other like little comic book characters. This is the real world.
"I'm willing to let this little incident slide. Neither of you seem to be hurt badly. I don't expect a repeat of this altercation, okay?
"Look, to tell the truth, when you hit my son, it was like you hit me. I'm angry at you right now, but I know you're just a teenager acting out on teenage impulses. I'm not going to force you to apologize, because that defeats the whole purpose of an "appy polly loggy." You ever read A Clockwork Orange? You should. You might learn something.
"So just don't ever come bother my son again, okay? You're a good ballplayer and I've heard the other parents talk about what a fine young man you are, but know this: if I find that you attack my son again, I WILL discipline you.
"Now get out of my house."
TO BE CONTINUED AT
www.livejournal.com/users/bipolarmagnet
