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?
