The world belongs to the hard men, not their spoiled children…
The little fucker is fast. Barely around the van, hardly in sight, and I’m blasted off my feet. Face in the dirt, empty lungs, I’m in trouble.
I dated a girl when I was twenty. Sixteen years old, sweetest little cock-tease piece of ass you’ve ever seen. Strutting, perky little tits, ripe young ass a-shimmy. I’d buy her beer and and let her drive me crazy. Prick throbbing, heart racing, the little slut knew what she was doing. Loved every second of it.
Always looking, always talking, always forgetting she was mine. Caught some faggot staring. Waited for him in a parking lot, caught him out alone. Crept up quiet, put a bottle to the back of his skull. Laid him out and beat his teeth in. Sobbing, begging, shattered mouth on warm asphalt. Sat astride his chest, swung away until my fists were numb.
Bundled her into the backseat, found an alley. Hemming and hawing, pulse racing.
Wait,wait,wait.
I gave her what she wanted. What they all do. Tears mean nothing, I know what’s mine.
Who’s screaming? Belly on the ground, mouth full of blood. Hand on a rock, try to roll and swing. One foot kicks me limp. Another follows. I’m surrounded and they’re shouting.
“Gun… fucker… kill him.”
Do it.
Set a car on fire once. Pack of niggers’d shown up, beach chairs and towels and smiles all around. Didn’t know what was good for them. Let ’em set up, get nice and comfy. Eating from a cooler, sandwiches and sodas. Ripped a phone book from a nearby booth. Smashed a window, set it alight, flames flickering and catching on sun scorched vinyl. Caustic fumes burning my lungs. Gone before I was noticed.
I was something, I mattered. Summers all mine, tan and toned, a young immortal. I had my crew, we had our spot. Ten bucks in your pocket, a whole day to burn. Surf all morning, lounge and flex for pubescent trim, interlopers beware. Warn ’em away, teach consequences. Slash some tires, smash a window, deliver a beating when numbers were in our favour.
That little blonde cunt spits in my face. Lash out with a foot and buckle her knee. Send one towards her tits, but it gets caught.
Always knew I was better. World full of weak, tired, scared; nothing to me. Old men with shoulders slumped, marching away to misery. How am I here?
I matter, I’ll finish this. Shotgun’s within reach, I stretch and grasp. Dreadlocks beats me to it. Rich boy fuck all thinks he’s in charge.
Set a car on fire once. Pack of niggers’d shown up, beach chairs and towels and smiles all around. Didn’t know what was good for them. Let ’em set up, get nice and comfy. Eating from a cooler, sandwiches and sodas. Seagulls flocking near, hoping for scraps, prepared to pilfer. Ripped a phone book from a nearby booth, yellow pages full of worthless strangers. Smashed a window, set it alight, flames flickering and catching on sun scorched vinyl. Caustic fumes burning my lungs. Gone before I was noticed.
Scramble to my knees, lunge for the barrel. Little bitch is shocked, squawks, recoils. Gun hits the dirt and it’s anyone’s game. I’m not beaten yet. I’m no broken man. Years are strength, decades pent up, choked with a rage that won’t boil over. A world that’s filled me with poison, I want to open wide and retch it in their faces. Show them this is mine. Everything I have, I fucking earned it. The world belongs to the hard men, not their spoiled children.
I lost my way. Tried to buy in, fit in, make do. Had a little wife, built a little life. Spent my years screaming through the bars, caged by a system built to coddle. Squandered every lesson I’d learned, bent over smiling for sissies in suits, chasing a dangled dream that never existed. No more, not now.
Fingers brush the barrel and I’m blindsided. A heel stomps my hand, something’s broken. Another kick to the ribs and my breath’s coming in barbs. A hand tangles in my hair and wrenches my head back, my twisted claw scrabbling useless at their wrist.
Blondie’s got my gun now, stock cocked over her shoulder, swinging for the fences. Just do it. End it. What’s the point? Everything I had, was, would be, is gone. Finish the fucking job.
Dreadlocks plucks it from her hands mid swing, turns and flings it into the night.
“C’mon, he’s done, let’s go.”
Coward.
I’ll kill them. I’ll smash their faces in, gouge their fucking eyes out. Cut and cut and cut until screams shatter their throats. I try to stand, my feet push dirt.
They leave their campsite behind, fire burning to embers as their wheels kick up dust that coats my swollen tongue and busted lips. I spit it out red and struggle onto my back. Their taillights disappear over a rise. Finally alone.
What have I done to deserve this?
