HooKarez
2009-03-20, 08:47 PM
[WARNING: WALL OF TEXT. PLEASE, DO NOT GO ON IF YOU'RE NOT IN THE MOOD FOR READING.]
Well, for English we had to write a Narrative about one of the books we read, and my book was Rule of the Bone. (I don't feel like giving a synopsis.) Anyway, what we were to do was either make a prologue and an epilogue or change one major event in the story and take the story on its course from there. Here's what I have so far.
Also, we were to write in the style of the author of the book, so runons, vulgatiry and everything else for the win.
[WILL BE UPDATED AS I FEEL LIKE WRITING. It's due the 31th, so it'll be done by then.]
Feel free to offer criticism and stuff. Yeah. There are probably a lot of typos too. This is in no way a final draft.
Rewritten Rules
Things went smoothly more or less like that for the rest of the summer and all fall. With all this pomegranate I was engulfed in, it seemed as though I was acquiring a criminal mentality. I knew what I was doing illegal, but it wasn’t the actual crimes I was committing that were illegal that I became a criminal, it was the full one eighty of my attitude towards my mom and Ken and other people.
I found my way to my mom’s house to try and find something to sell for money for weed and stuff. The living room and kitchen didn’t really have anything valuable and the same with my room. I went into Ken’s room and searched around for anything a watch or some other piece of jewelry. The closet was sort of beckoning me to search it, so I did and I found this black suitcase looking thing. I opened it and found it was much more than a suitcase it was a .22 automatic rifle There was also a bag with lots of little bags of coins with maybe fifteen or so coins in each but I was more interested in the gun at the time. It was in three pieces so I put it together. There was a sudden sound in the hallway which made me jump, but it was just my mom’s cat. That damn cat almost gave me a heart attack and likewise when I pointed the rifle at him. I turned my attention to the coins which were the only thing of value besides the gun in this whole damn house. I just took a few so it wouldn’t be entirely too obvious if Ken or mom went to check on it or something.
I brought the coins to this coin collecting guy next to the Video Den to see if these pieces of crap were worth anything. Turns out they actually are. Worth quite a bit actually because I think I got thirty bucks for every coin. When he asked me how I found them I pulled a blank. I grabbed some corny verse along the lines of ‘My grandmother gave them to me for my birthday. She said she got them when she was in … … Canada?’ He bought it, thankfully. This coin money would give me plenty of money for weed and whatever else I might need.
I didn’t go to jail or anything, but the time me and Russ were caught shoplifting some cruddy clothes from a thrift store at a mall in Plattsburgh was the first stop on my self-indulgent career of crime. This was when I first saw myself as a criminal.
It was coming up on my first Christmas after my mother and Ken kicked me out of the house. I still can’t believe I was only fourteen and living at Russ’s place with all those hungover bikers down on Water Street. I’m pretty sure the only reason they let me stay was because I was their supplier of weed. Those bikers were a lot older than me and way heavier into drugs. This one time I saw this one guy take six syringes and stick them all into his arm which kind of grossed me out.
Russ was sixteen and worked part time at the Video Den so we had nights free and I’d sometimes go to the mall and deal weed to the kids there and hang out. Christmas time at the mall is a living hell because there are tons of people going in and out buying all this pomegranate that they can’t afford for their kids and all of those icicle lights hanging every which way and those stupid carolers singing and the old, fat guys in Santa suits with children on their laps. I seriously think they are all pedophiles I mean who else would want hundreds of kids to sit on your lap if you’re not into that kind of stuff?
It was like a week and a half before Christmas and I was running low on weed but I didn’t really want to go home and get more coins to sell. I started thinking about my mom and Ken and how this would be my first Christmas without them – their first Christmas without me. I wondered what they’d do on Christmas Eve then I stopped wondering because I really didn’t want to know. They were home alone and if I were them I knew just what I’d do. I’d watch A Christmas Story. It just gets me every time, You’ll shoot ‘yer eye out! But seriously I hope they’re not worried sick about me. They’re probably just going to make some eggnog and watch some Christmas specials and totally forget about me. I became a little nostalgic when I passed the Timex store because Ken got me a Timex for Christmas so I could start coming home on time.
I knew it was hopeless, but I started imagining the scene I would see if I went home. I would get Russ to drop me off in his Camaro with all my stuff and unload it onto the sidewalk with this huge bag of presents then Russ would take off and I’d be alone there in the still darkness with only the icicle lights guiding me. It’s Christmas Eve and it’s snowing just a little bit. Just enough for me to see it in the dim icicle-lit darkness. The porch on the front would creak as I stepped onto it and the doorbell would sound. I kept hoping for a nice reaction when my mother answered the door. She opened it and just drops down and bawls her eyes out. I knew she was sad but it doesn’t change who I was – that grass smoking coin stealing bastard who left them for nothing. I held out the bag of presents and she just hugged me, hugged me real tight. Ken comes to see what the commotion is and I say, Merry Christmas Ken, and he shakes my hand and replies, Come on in, son.
We went into the living room and I gave them the presents but they felt embarrassed because they hadn’t gotten me anything and they apologize but I don’t care. All I care about if that they really like what I got them and Ken looks out the window and sees all my stuff on the sidewalk and says, Son, why don’t you bring your stuff inside?
When I got busted for shoplifting at this crappy thrift store named Thrift Star the guy that busted me was a guy I knew. A big black security guard named Bart who I actually sold weed to occasionally. Bart told me that the store was going to press charges and everything and that he had called my parents to tell them too. pomegranate man, I just came back from months without seeing them and now have to go through this, I complained. Well, I guess it was inevitable so I went home to see how they would react and to see if all my clothes and stuff were out on the sidewalk. As I neared my house I saw her running to me with her face red obviously from crying. She says, they want to arrest you! And Ken agrees with them. He thinks it’ll give you the chance to toughen up but I’m trying to get you off, do you understand? I said, Yeah, I understand.
She dragged me to Thrift Star and told me that if I say I’m sorry and stay away from the store I’ll be off the hook. Ken was there and he’s naturally upset with me and my mom is in hysterics and I’m just completely out of it. My mom pushed me in front of the manager and said, He has something to say to you. I tried to think of something corny to say just to make my mom fret even more but all I could come up with was, Sorry for taking clothes that were given to you by random people for you to make a negligible profit and keep on living your miserable life as it is now. My mother wasn’t too happy about that. NO! she yelled. Listen mister, you are going to go back in there and do it right. All right, all right, I said. Hey manager, I’m sorry, I really didn’t know what I was thinking when I did it, I said.
After that whole ordeal was through, I went home with my mom and Ken to have a nice home-cooked dinner which was something I hadn’t had in a long while. A nice roast beef cooked perfectly with some roasted potatoes in my mom’s secret, special blend of herbs and spices and a mixed veggie soup. The whole home sweet home thing was hitting me hard and I had no idea what to do with it so I just let it settle into my skin. I haven’t felt like this in years and I’ve forgotten how soothing it is to know I belong somewhere. I felt as though I belonged in this family which I haven’t felt in a long time. I felt accepted by Ken.
I spent the next few days of winter vacation home with my mom and Ken and we just talked about what they did and what I did when I was gone. The main agenda was talking about what I did with Russ and those disgusting bikers. Yeah, when I told them about the bikers they were pretty repulsed that I was actually living off of them. Anyway, I tried to swerve from anything about the weed topic. If they found out I was stealing those worthless coins, I dunno what my mom or Ken would do to me after I actually gained their trust again. Ken especially because he seems to have grown on me a bit. I just made some bull up about how we just spent our time at community college and how we found informational videos at the Video Den. And she pineappleing fell for it. I was holding this nervous chuckle inside me because they would probably suspect something if they heard it. My mom then brought up the one topic I didn’t want to come up, school. She said that if I was going to be in this household again I would have to go to school, so I half-heartedly agreed.
So my first day of school came up and my mom bought me all sorts of crap like this ugly backpack some pencils and pens and a calculator. I actually had to take the bus to school because my mom and Ken refused to drive me there. The bus was full of idiots who were screaming at the top of their lungs to the person next to them because apparently everyone in the world was deaf. Well I was after that explosive event. And they kept jumping up whenever the bus would go over a huge bump so they could get out of their seats really high. I guess this is what I get for missing out on an entire year of school. I didn’t finish the eighth grade so I had to start school there without anyone that I knew and at a completely different school from everyone I knew so I was alone. But what I realized is that these kids were more pothead-ish than my class was because I saw a ton of kids smoking these huge ass bongs behind the school so I found this as an opportunity for come more coinage (in both terms money and those coins in Ken’s closet).
I wandered myself over to their little smoking circle behind the school near the parking lot. They were your typical potheads in today’s society of guys with long, greasy hair with skater shoes and shirts and stuff. As I got to know them, they sort of reminded me of the bikers I sort of roomed with when I was living with Russ at the Video Den. They cursed a ton and really, really smelled of smoke and whatever else they might have been doing that day. They were mostly guys in the eighth grade, but there were a few girls, or at least I thought they were girls. I didn’t want to ask because, well, you know, it would probably offend them and stuff so I just didn’t bother. They were hesitant to invite me into their inner circle of friends probably because they feared I might tell on them or some stupid thing like that. I told them my story about getting kicked out and taking the coins in the closet and gun, they were mostly interested about the part with the coins probably so they could score some weed from me so they let me into their little club.
Later on that day after school I snuck into my parents’ closet when my mom was home which wasn’t exactly the best idea but my mom never left the house so I just had to deal with it. I opened the closet and found the little black briefcase still placed in the spot where I found it those many months ago. When I opened it to see how many coins were left, there were only about ten left which is a pretty drastic leap from the sixty some that were originally there. I was going to take all of them as an attempt to save my ass if mom or Ken ever found out about the missing coins. I would just try to hide the fact that I stole them and try to persuade them that the coins were never there in the first place. But I just decided to take four and snag the rest of them when I had more people to sell my smack to. Of course, I started hearing my mom coming up the stairs so I quickly shoved the briefcase back into the closet but there was no time for me to put it back in its proper place so I just left that task for later.
That night I had my chance to go back upstairs and reconfigure the closet so it wasn’t entirely too apparent that I had been snooping in there. My parents were downstairs watching some crappy TV show and I think it was Brothers and Sisters or something stupid and sappy like that. I slowly and carefully climbed the stairs and turned into my parent’s room and faced the closet. The case was back in its proper place when I felt something but it wasn’t something physical it felt more mental. It was like someone was watching me which would pineappleing suck if it was Ken right behind me. I truly didn’t want to look, but I ended up taking a quick flash of a glance and saw nothing. Meh, I guess it was just a spur of the moment thing with the adrenaline pumping and stuff. Afterwards, I quietly crept out of the room trying not to make any sound whatsoever as to not alarm my mom or Ken. After about twenty steps, I was pretty sure I was successful in avoiding that entire dilemma on my hands. If I don’t hear anything in about a day or two, I’m off the hook for everything.
Sure enough, the next day rolls around and I hear my dad yelling to my mother about something. It was early in the morning, so I wasn’t really paying attention at all. I heard sporadic words like, pineappleing son of yours, bastard, inheritance, wait, what? Inheritance? Then it dawned on me. Oh. pomegranate. All these months I’ve been selling my dad’s inheritance for weed and since I heard my name a few times, he obviously knows it’s completely my fault. Why the hell would he find out now and not months ago? I seriously wanted to know, why now? I heard him storming up the few flights of stairs in a fury of rage. You know, when little kids have temper tantrums they usually stomp on the floor and pout and scream, well this was exactly like one of those temper tantrums. As I make a quick attempt to lock my door it flings open and practically crushes everything in my hand and arm. Out of reflex, I let out a sharp, Oww! Shut the hell up, Ken said very seriously. His eyes actually looked kind of red like he was crying or something. Damn, this is gonna be bad.He locked his eyes onto me, his deep, deadly eyes and grabbed me and shoved me into the corner of the room denting it with my elbow. With his face right up in front of mine, I could see his anger illuminated through the hatred seen in his eyes. Why the pineapple would you go and sell the coins my grandfather left me, you son of a peach! They were the only remnants left that I had of my grandfather and you just decide to waltz into my closet and sell them for weed of all things! You see this, as he clenched his fist. This is a fraction of what I’m going to do to you. He strode over to the window and locked it and I simultaneously made a run for the door but it had already been locked. I had a horrible beating in store for me.
Ken unleashed his anger and fury upon my entire body with fierce blows from his fist and legs and a knife that pineappleing came out of nowhere. The punches, one after another after another, made malevolent contact with my bones as I heard some cracking and snapping as I hit the floor hard. Once on the ground, multiple kicks ensued absolutely crushing my stomach and arms and legs but I somehow managed to deflect a direct hit towards my head which would have definitely knocked me out. Hearing all of the commotion, my mom came upstairs to see what was going on while unaware of the current happenings. Unbeknownst to Ken, the door is only locked from the inside. My mom entered during the scene where Ken was standing over me with the pocket knife in his hand getting ready to strike. Stop!, she plead. Ken, stop this right now! I know those coins meant the world to you, but this is your son you’re hurting! I don’t pineappleing care!, Ken yelled, tears starting to roll down his demonized face. Just get the pineapple out of here Janice. But my mom refused. She started walking towards Ken trying to coax him out of my probable death, but Ken swung at her with the knife and struck her on her hand. She let out a terrible scream and said, That’s it, I’m going to call the police. And at that exact moment, Ken pulled out the black briefcase. pineapple, I thought, he’s gonna shoot me. Well, at least it’ll be a quick death.
My mom ran downstairs and dialed 911. Ken, now frustrated and angry, assembled the rifle. I made a quick attempt to get away, but as I tried to put weight on my leg, they just collapsed and writhed in pain. They were obviously broken. I was as helpless as a turtle stuck on its back. I couldn’t move, all I could do was wait for my imminent death via rifle shot in the head. I heard a click and looked over and saw the rifle in his hands shaking violently. In the state Ken was in, no amount of coaxing could allow him to let me live. Outside I could hear the police starting to arrive which made Ken start to pace around the room. It seemed like the SWAT team had arrived with their men wearing bullet proof vests and masks with those retarded shields in front. Ken started muttering to himself, but I couldn’t exactly make out what he was saying. I attempted to read his lips, but that didn’t work. How the hell can some people read lips anyway? The SWAT or whoever was outside started to set up all sorts of snipers on the roofs of the surrounding houses. I guess that made sense, they were going to try to take him out before Ken could have a chance to take me out. It sounded like one of the guys outside was on a megaphone, but it wasn’t very audible and Ken probably couldn’t hear it with everything scrambling through his head. From the little I could hear, they were saying that Ken had five minutes before they were going to enter the house and bring him down. Each passing second from then on felt like a minute. Ken was still pacing about back and forth in front of the window. From where I was laying, I could see one of the snipers setting himself up for the shot hopefully just to incapacitate Ken and not kill him.
The next few moments went by as slow as anything. The single shot was fired from the roof across the street and it seemed like I could follow the actual bullet on its way to impact Ken. The trajectory seemed like it was headed towards his shoulder, but I couldn’t tell yet but when the bullet hit the glass and it shattered, it deflected and just barely grazed his ear. This completely uncaged the beast within Ken and he actually started shooting outside towards the police and SWAT and whoever else was out there by now. Shot after shot was fired pummeling through the walls letting in sharp rays of light hit the ceiling. I heard a clear, Fall back!, come from outside and, Take him out!, which meant they were serious now. I tried to calm Ken down but my words seemed to bounce right off. I started screaming which got his attention right away. The rifle now pointed straight at me was no longer shaking. At that moment more shots came from outside, this time hitting Ken square in both of his arms. Writing in pain, he attempted to pick up the rifle and land a shot on his original prey. I still couldn’t move even with all the adrenaline pumping through me, so I just closed my eyes as the rifle was raised up. The shot was fired, but not from Ken, it came from behind me. The police had silently and quickly raided the house and found me and shot Ken in the head. The ordeal was over. I was safe. I was still alive. But Ken was dead.
Ken was pronounced dead at the scene and my mom was trying to hold back tears but completely failing at it. I was taken to the hospital and they said I had like nine broken bones in my legs. At the hospital, I just thought about what just had happened. I just couldn’t concentrate on anything because my mind was wandering everywhere from, what’ll happen next?, to, how the pineapple did that happen?, what does my mom think? I grabbed the remote off the little table next to the bed and turned to the news channel which happened to be the only channel they had. The event whole from earlier in the day was posted on the news and there were tons of blogs about it on the internet according to expert Josh Adams. “Manic Father Holds Son Hostage” was tonight’s headline and “Crazy Bastard” was the popular blog online which had like 150,000 hits. Each headline showed Ken as being the criminal and everything but it was me who made all this pomegranate happen. I was the one who stole those coins for my own benefit. God damnit, why aren’t I shown as the criminal?
The next few days were hard with everyone in the whole pineappleing town giving me their pity. People who I’ve never seen before stopped by with flowers and cards and prissy stuffed animals. I didn’t want their damn pity or any of their crappy ‘get well gifts’, I just wanted get out of here and, well, do something.
[NOT PART OF THE NARRATIVE]
I was thinking of making use of Ken's rifle and maybe.. holding the narrator hostage or something? lul.
Well, for English we had to write a Narrative about one of the books we read, and my book was Rule of the Bone. (I don't feel like giving a synopsis.) Anyway, what we were to do was either make a prologue and an epilogue or change one major event in the story and take the story on its course from there. Here's what I have so far.
Also, we were to write in the style of the author of the book, so runons, vulgatiry and everything else for the win.
[WILL BE UPDATED AS I FEEL LIKE WRITING. It's due the 31th, so it'll be done by then.]
Feel free to offer criticism and stuff. Yeah. There are probably a lot of typos too. This is in no way a final draft.
Rewritten Rules
Things went smoothly more or less like that for the rest of the summer and all fall. With all this pomegranate I was engulfed in, it seemed as though I was acquiring a criminal mentality. I knew what I was doing illegal, but it wasn’t the actual crimes I was committing that were illegal that I became a criminal, it was the full one eighty of my attitude towards my mom and Ken and other people.
I found my way to my mom’s house to try and find something to sell for money for weed and stuff. The living room and kitchen didn’t really have anything valuable and the same with my room. I went into Ken’s room and searched around for anything a watch or some other piece of jewelry. The closet was sort of beckoning me to search it, so I did and I found this black suitcase looking thing. I opened it and found it was much more than a suitcase it was a .22 automatic rifle There was also a bag with lots of little bags of coins with maybe fifteen or so coins in each but I was more interested in the gun at the time. It was in three pieces so I put it together. There was a sudden sound in the hallway which made me jump, but it was just my mom’s cat. That damn cat almost gave me a heart attack and likewise when I pointed the rifle at him. I turned my attention to the coins which were the only thing of value besides the gun in this whole damn house. I just took a few so it wouldn’t be entirely too obvious if Ken or mom went to check on it or something.
I brought the coins to this coin collecting guy next to the Video Den to see if these pieces of crap were worth anything. Turns out they actually are. Worth quite a bit actually because I think I got thirty bucks for every coin. When he asked me how I found them I pulled a blank. I grabbed some corny verse along the lines of ‘My grandmother gave them to me for my birthday. She said she got them when she was in … … Canada?’ He bought it, thankfully. This coin money would give me plenty of money for weed and whatever else I might need.
I didn’t go to jail or anything, but the time me and Russ were caught shoplifting some cruddy clothes from a thrift store at a mall in Plattsburgh was the first stop on my self-indulgent career of crime. This was when I first saw myself as a criminal.
It was coming up on my first Christmas after my mother and Ken kicked me out of the house. I still can’t believe I was only fourteen and living at Russ’s place with all those hungover bikers down on Water Street. I’m pretty sure the only reason they let me stay was because I was their supplier of weed. Those bikers were a lot older than me and way heavier into drugs. This one time I saw this one guy take six syringes and stick them all into his arm which kind of grossed me out.
Russ was sixteen and worked part time at the Video Den so we had nights free and I’d sometimes go to the mall and deal weed to the kids there and hang out. Christmas time at the mall is a living hell because there are tons of people going in and out buying all this pomegranate that they can’t afford for their kids and all of those icicle lights hanging every which way and those stupid carolers singing and the old, fat guys in Santa suits with children on their laps. I seriously think they are all pedophiles I mean who else would want hundreds of kids to sit on your lap if you’re not into that kind of stuff?
It was like a week and a half before Christmas and I was running low on weed but I didn’t really want to go home and get more coins to sell. I started thinking about my mom and Ken and how this would be my first Christmas without them – their first Christmas without me. I wondered what they’d do on Christmas Eve then I stopped wondering because I really didn’t want to know. They were home alone and if I were them I knew just what I’d do. I’d watch A Christmas Story. It just gets me every time, You’ll shoot ‘yer eye out! But seriously I hope they’re not worried sick about me. They’re probably just going to make some eggnog and watch some Christmas specials and totally forget about me. I became a little nostalgic when I passed the Timex store because Ken got me a Timex for Christmas so I could start coming home on time.
I knew it was hopeless, but I started imagining the scene I would see if I went home. I would get Russ to drop me off in his Camaro with all my stuff and unload it onto the sidewalk with this huge bag of presents then Russ would take off and I’d be alone there in the still darkness with only the icicle lights guiding me. It’s Christmas Eve and it’s snowing just a little bit. Just enough for me to see it in the dim icicle-lit darkness. The porch on the front would creak as I stepped onto it and the doorbell would sound. I kept hoping for a nice reaction when my mother answered the door. She opened it and just drops down and bawls her eyes out. I knew she was sad but it doesn’t change who I was – that grass smoking coin stealing bastard who left them for nothing. I held out the bag of presents and she just hugged me, hugged me real tight. Ken comes to see what the commotion is and I say, Merry Christmas Ken, and he shakes my hand and replies, Come on in, son.
We went into the living room and I gave them the presents but they felt embarrassed because they hadn’t gotten me anything and they apologize but I don’t care. All I care about if that they really like what I got them and Ken looks out the window and sees all my stuff on the sidewalk and says, Son, why don’t you bring your stuff inside?
When I got busted for shoplifting at this crappy thrift store named Thrift Star the guy that busted me was a guy I knew. A big black security guard named Bart who I actually sold weed to occasionally. Bart told me that the store was going to press charges and everything and that he had called my parents to tell them too. pomegranate man, I just came back from months without seeing them and now have to go through this, I complained. Well, I guess it was inevitable so I went home to see how they would react and to see if all my clothes and stuff were out on the sidewalk. As I neared my house I saw her running to me with her face red obviously from crying. She says, they want to arrest you! And Ken agrees with them. He thinks it’ll give you the chance to toughen up but I’m trying to get you off, do you understand? I said, Yeah, I understand.
She dragged me to Thrift Star and told me that if I say I’m sorry and stay away from the store I’ll be off the hook. Ken was there and he’s naturally upset with me and my mom is in hysterics and I’m just completely out of it. My mom pushed me in front of the manager and said, He has something to say to you. I tried to think of something corny to say just to make my mom fret even more but all I could come up with was, Sorry for taking clothes that were given to you by random people for you to make a negligible profit and keep on living your miserable life as it is now. My mother wasn’t too happy about that. NO! she yelled. Listen mister, you are going to go back in there and do it right. All right, all right, I said. Hey manager, I’m sorry, I really didn’t know what I was thinking when I did it, I said.
After that whole ordeal was through, I went home with my mom and Ken to have a nice home-cooked dinner which was something I hadn’t had in a long while. A nice roast beef cooked perfectly with some roasted potatoes in my mom’s secret, special blend of herbs and spices and a mixed veggie soup. The whole home sweet home thing was hitting me hard and I had no idea what to do with it so I just let it settle into my skin. I haven’t felt like this in years and I’ve forgotten how soothing it is to know I belong somewhere. I felt as though I belonged in this family which I haven’t felt in a long time. I felt accepted by Ken.
I spent the next few days of winter vacation home with my mom and Ken and we just talked about what they did and what I did when I was gone. The main agenda was talking about what I did with Russ and those disgusting bikers. Yeah, when I told them about the bikers they were pretty repulsed that I was actually living off of them. Anyway, I tried to swerve from anything about the weed topic. If they found out I was stealing those worthless coins, I dunno what my mom or Ken would do to me after I actually gained their trust again. Ken especially because he seems to have grown on me a bit. I just made some bull up about how we just spent our time at community college and how we found informational videos at the Video Den. And she pineappleing fell for it. I was holding this nervous chuckle inside me because they would probably suspect something if they heard it. My mom then brought up the one topic I didn’t want to come up, school. She said that if I was going to be in this household again I would have to go to school, so I half-heartedly agreed.
So my first day of school came up and my mom bought me all sorts of crap like this ugly backpack some pencils and pens and a calculator. I actually had to take the bus to school because my mom and Ken refused to drive me there. The bus was full of idiots who were screaming at the top of their lungs to the person next to them because apparently everyone in the world was deaf. Well I was after that explosive event. And they kept jumping up whenever the bus would go over a huge bump so they could get out of their seats really high. I guess this is what I get for missing out on an entire year of school. I didn’t finish the eighth grade so I had to start school there without anyone that I knew and at a completely different school from everyone I knew so I was alone. But what I realized is that these kids were more pothead-ish than my class was because I saw a ton of kids smoking these huge ass bongs behind the school so I found this as an opportunity for come more coinage (in both terms money and those coins in Ken’s closet).
I wandered myself over to their little smoking circle behind the school near the parking lot. They were your typical potheads in today’s society of guys with long, greasy hair with skater shoes and shirts and stuff. As I got to know them, they sort of reminded me of the bikers I sort of roomed with when I was living with Russ at the Video Den. They cursed a ton and really, really smelled of smoke and whatever else they might have been doing that day. They were mostly guys in the eighth grade, but there were a few girls, or at least I thought they were girls. I didn’t want to ask because, well, you know, it would probably offend them and stuff so I just didn’t bother. They were hesitant to invite me into their inner circle of friends probably because they feared I might tell on them or some stupid thing like that. I told them my story about getting kicked out and taking the coins in the closet and gun, they were mostly interested about the part with the coins probably so they could score some weed from me so they let me into their little club.
Later on that day after school I snuck into my parents’ closet when my mom was home which wasn’t exactly the best idea but my mom never left the house so I just had to deal with it. I opened the closet and found the little black briefcase still placed in the spot where I found it those many months ago. When I opened it to see how many coins were left, there were only about ten left which is a pretty drastic leap from the sixty some that were originally there. I was going to take all of them as an attempt to save my ass if mom or Ken ever found out about the missing coins. I would just try to hide the fact that I stole them and try to persuade them that the coins were never there in the first place. But I just decided to take four and snag the rest of them when I had more people to sell my smack to. Of course, I started hearing my mom coming up the stairs so I quickly shoved the briefcase back into the closet but there was no time for me to put it back in its proper place so I just left that task for later.
That night I had my chance to go back upstairs and reconfigure the closet so it wasn’t entirely too apparent that I had been snooping in there. My parents were downstairs watching some crappy TV show and I think it was Brothers and Sisters or something stupid and sappy like that. I slowly and carefully climbed the stairs and turned into my parent’s room and faced the closet. The case was back in its proper place when I felt something but it wasn’t something physical it felt more mental. It was like someone was watching me which would pineappleing suck if it was Ken right behind me. I truly didn’t want to look, but I ended up taking a quick flash of a glance and saw nothing. Meh, I guess it was just a spur of the moment thing with the adrenaline pumping and stuff. Afterwards, I quietly crept out of the room trying not to make any sound whatsoever as to not alarm my mom or Ken. After about twenty steps, I was pretty sure I was successful in avoiding that entire dilemma on my hands. If I don’t hear anything in about a day or two, I’m off the hook for everything.
Sure enough, the next day rolls around and I hear my dad yelling to my mother about something. It was early in the morning, so I wasn’t really paying attention at all. I heard sporadic words like, pineappleing son of yours, bastard, inheritance, wait, what? Inheritance? Then it dawned on me. Oh. pomegranate. All these months I’ve been selling my dad’s inheritance for weed and since I heard my name a few times, he obviously knows it’s completely my fault. Why the hell would he find out now and not months ago? I seriously wanted to know, why now? I heard him storming up the few flights of stairs in a fury of rage. You know, when little kids have temper tantrums they usually stomp on the floor and pout and scream, well this was exactly like one of those temper tantrums. As I make a quick attempt to lock my door it flings open and practically crushes everything in my hand and arm. Out of reflex, I let out a sharp, Oww! Shut the hell up, Ken said very seriously. His eyes actually looked kind of red like he was crying or something. Damn, this is gonna be bad.He locked his eyes onto me, his deep, deadly eyes and grabbed me and shoved me into the corner of the room denting it with my elbow. With his face right up in front of mine, I could see his anger illuminated through the hatred seen in his eyes. Why the pineapple would you go and sell the coins my grandfather left me, you son of a peach! They were the only remnants left that I had of my grandfather and you just decide to waltz into my closet and sell them for weed of all things! You see this, as he clenched his fist. This is a fraction of what I’m going to do to you. He strode over to the window and locked it and I simultaneously made a run for the door but it had already been locked. I had a horrible beating in store for me.
Ken unleashed his anger and fury upon my entire body with fierce blows from his fist and legs and a knife that pineappleing came out of nowhere. The punches, one after another after another, made malevolent contact with my bones as I heard some cracking and snapping as I hit the floor hard. Once on the ground, multiple kicks ensued absolutely crushing my stomach and arms and legs but I somehow managed to deflect a direct hit towards my head which would have definitely knocked me out. Hearing all of the commotion, my mom came upstairs to see what was going on while unaware of the current happenings. Unbeknownst to Ken, the door is only locked from the inside. My mom entered during the scene where Ken was standing over me with the pocket knife in his hand getting ready to strike. Stop!, she plead. Ken, stop this right now! I know those coins meant the world to you, but this is your son you’re hurting! I don’t pineappleing care!, Ken yelled, tears starting to roll down his demonized face. Just get the pineapple out of here Janice. But my mom refused. She started walking towards Ken trying to coax him out of my probable death, but Ken swung at her with the knife and struck her on her hand. She let out a terrible scream and said, That’s it, I’m going to call the police. And at that exact moment, Ken pulled out the black briefcase. pineapple, I thought, he’s gonna shoot me. Well, at least it’ll be a quick death.
My mom ran downstairs and dialed 911. Ken, now frustrated and angry, assembled the rifle. I made a quick attempt to get away, but as I tried to put weight on my leg, they just collapsed and writhed in pain. They were obviously broken. I was as helpless as a turtle stuck on its back. I couldn’t move, all I could do was wait for my imminent death via rifle shot in the head. I heard a click and looked over and saw the rifle in his hands shaking violently. In the state Ken was in, no amount of coaxing could allow him to let me live. Outside I could hear the police starting to arrive which made Ken start to pace around the room. It seemed like the SWAT team had arrived with their men wearing bullet proof vests and masks with those retarded shields in front. Ken started muttering to himself, but I couldn’t exactly make out what he was saying. I attempted to read his lips, but that didn’t work. How the hell can some people read lips anyway? The SWAT or whoever was outside started to set up all sorts of snipers on the roofs of the surrounding houses. I guess that made sense, they were going to try to take him out before Ken could have a chance to take me out. It sounded like one of the guys outside was on a megaphone, but it wasn’t very audible and Ken probably couldn’t hear it with everything scrambling through his head. From the little I could hear, they were saying that Ken had five minutes before they were going to enter the house and bring him down. Each passing second from then on felt like a minute. Ken was still pacing about back and forth in front of the window. From where I was laying, I could see one of the snipers setting himself up for the shot hopefully just to incapacitate Ken and not kill him.
The next few moments went by as slow as anything. The single shot was fired from the roof across the street and it seemed like I could follow the actual bullet on its way to impact Ken. The trajectory seemed like it was headed towards his shoulder, but I couldn’t tell yet but when the bullet hit the glass and it shattered, it deflected and just barely grazed his ear. This completely uncaged the beast within Ken and he actually started shooting outside towards the police and SWAT and whoever else was out there by now. Shot after shot was fired pummeling through the walls letting in sharp rays of light hit the ceiling. I heard a clear, Fall back!, come from outside and, Take him out!, which meant they were serious now. I tried to calm Ken down but my words seemed to bounce right off. I started screaming which got his attention right away. The rifle now pointed straight at me was no longer shaking. At that moment more shots came from outside, this time hitting Ken square in both of his arms. Writing in pain, he attempted to pick up the rifle and land a shot on his original prey. I still couldn’t move even with all the adrenaline pumping through me, so I just closed my eyes as the rifle was raised up. The shot was fired, but not from Ken, it came from behind me. The police had silently and quickly raided the house and found me and shot Ken in the head. The ordeal was over. I was safe. I was still alive. But Ken was dead.
Ken was pronounced dead at the scene and my mom was trying to hold back tears but completely failing at it. I was taken to the hospital and they said I had like nine broken bones in my legs. At the hospital, I just thought about what just had happened. I just couldn’t concentrate on anything because my mind was wandering everywhere from, what’ll happen next?, to, how the pineapple did that happen?, what does my mom think? I grabbed the remote off the little table next to the bed and turned to the news channel which happened to be the only channel they had. The event whole from earlier in the day was posted on the news and there were tons of blogs about it on the internet according to expert Josh Adams. “Manic Father Holds Son Hostage” was tonight’s headline and “Crazy Bastard” was the popular blog online which had like 150,000 hits. Each headline showed Ken as being the criminal and everything but it was me who made all this pomegranate happen. I was the one who stole those coins for my own benefit. God damnit, why aren’t I shown as the criminal?
The next few days were hard with everyone in the whole pineappleing town giving me their pity. People who I’ve never seen before stopped by with flowers and cards and prissy stuffed animals. I didn’t want their damn pity or any of their crappy ‘get well gifts’, I just wanted get out of here and, well, do something.
[NOT PART OF THE NARRATIVE]
I was thinking of making use of Ken's rifle and maybe.. holding the narrator hostage or something? lul.