I ducked when I heard the first two shots, jumped behind the nearest car. Motioned to Jim to get down, stupid jackass, he stood up and the third shot took him right in the head. Dumb shit. I loved him, I guess, but he was too stupid to live.
"Come out of there, you little motherfuckin' bitch!"
I guess customer service and courtesy weren't part of the 7-11 manager training course anymore. Not as dumb as Jim, I'm not. I threw a bunch of pebbles against the third car down. Dumbass turned and ran that way.
Gave me time to hustle my own ass around the building, hop into my piece-of-shit Toyota, and burn out of there.
Four hours later I was in Reno. Fucking biggest little town in the world, or some such shit. Who cares? I mean, big is big, if you're talking Vegas, baby, but the rest of it? Uh uh.
Showered, my last set of clean clothes. Crashed on the bed. Too pooped to pop. Or fuck. Or something. I needed to think. Jim gone, who's left? Mark? Nope, too queer. Yeah, gay rights and all that, but someone who puts on the flaming faggot routine draws too much attention.
Besides, there's too many cops around who think queer-bashing is better than donuts. Dumb fucks. The only ones dumber are guys who can't learn and keep poking those cops to see what happens. They're usually sorry the next morning.
Crap, how did it come to this, anyway? Last year everything was Jake, or Ralph, or something like that. Queen of May or some such shit. School a boring load of crap, OK, no surprise there, but the rest of it, well, Jim, and Sam, and Bert and I, well, we made a team.
The screwing wasn't too bad, either. Bert, well, he kind of liked boys and girls, but his weenie wasn't big enough to interest anyone. That's why he carried this big-ass knife, I guess. Gotta be a man somehow, you know how that shit is.
Jim and Sam, well, now, that's a different story. I mean, a guy with a schlong long enough to tickle your tonsils when he's only halfway up your pussy? Now, that's a dick, my friends. They say size doesn't matter, but that's a load of crap. It matters a lot.
See, it's like this. Take a guy, he's got a dick, right? Can he do anything with it? Well, the first thing to check is how big he is. I mean, even when the girl isn't that big, if all he's going to do is rattle around in there, well, shit, they make vibrators in lots of different sizes, so get with the program, man! Get yourself an implant, why don't you?
Mrs. Southerland, now, she's something else. With those tits as big as they are I'll bet even she has a problem getting them wrapped around Jim when he's going good. And with Sam up her ass at the same time, well, we're talking poetry here, friends.
Where was I, anyway? Oh, last year. I guess the first thing that went wrong was when Dad split. Traitor. Shithead. Left me with that whore who calls herself my mother. I don't blame Dad for leaving, only for leaving me with her. I mean, what kind of parent leaves the kid with someone like her?
Probably coming home that day and finding her in bed with those two guys from the Sanitation Department, that was what put him over the edge. I mean, it's not just that they were foreigners, it's that they smelled, you know?
Yeah, a rose is just a rose and all that crap, but give me a break. Some roses smell pretty good; some are just, well, you know. Throw 'em out, I say. That's what they have garbage cans for, right?
So, Dad took off and it wasn't the same. Sure, Mom was just as drunk as she's always been, but that wasn't nothing new. Crap. It's the guys. I mean, how many times do you want to hear your mother, your own mother, say, "Jenny, I'd like you to meet your new Daddy. Say hi to Daddy, sweetie, OK?"
Turns your stomach, doesn't it? Plus, Jesus, when "Daddy" decides he needs to hug you extra special, well, we all know what's going on there. Shit. Like I'm going to let one of these smelly old farts get his hands on me? Not bloody fucking likely, you can bet your sweet ass on that.
I think it was Larry who was the last straw. I mean, the guy never wore underwear, you know? Fuck. Like I cared, but go into the kitchen in the morning and see this turkey with a t-shirt on and no pants scratching his balls while he makes coffee and see how much you like that. Crap. Not for me.
I was out of there that afternoon, and getting myself royally fucked by Phil at Phil's Fine Furniture later that evening. He said I could sleep on his customer couch or anywhere I wanted to. There was just this one teeny tiny thing I needed to do for him first.
So I took him in my mouth and jacked him and sucked him until he came all over my face, and that was just for starters. Shit, that guy was a slob. I knew there wasn't any future in this, I mean it, I really did, but it was warm and dry and a place to sleep, you know? So I took it.
Even if I could barely move the next morning. Phil at least had some coffee around, but then he made me do a couple of lines of coke and things got kind of fuzzy after that.
"Have you seen Jenny, Phil?"
Christ. I couldn't believe it. The school district's one single truant officer, and he's showing up at Phil's Fine Furniture this early in the morning?"
"No, Lou. No sign of her. What happened?"
"She left home last night and no one's seen her since."
"If she shows up here I'll give you a call."
Shit. Double shit. Triple shit. Lou is the biggest laziest turkey around, but he has a way of finding kids. I mean, there was Greg last year who kept hanging around a different 7-11 every morning, and Lou usually ran him down by the next day. I don't know how he does it, fat as he is. I mean, what's he got, ES fucking P or something?
Anyway, it was adios to Phil that morning, except I was kind of woozy and didn't get half a block down the street before these guys in a van showed up. Crap. They didn't even ask me if I needed a ride. They just grabbed me.
Well, yes, I like sex, but I usually like to be asked, even politely, you know? Not these guys. I'm in the van and my hands are behind my back with someone's belt and the first dude, this big greasy Hispanic character, whips out his schlong and waves it in my face.
"Hey, babee, you like a leetle marengo theese morning?"
Oh, shit. You get the idea. I'm going to skip the stupid accents for now, but this guy must have watched very crappy B western movie with Mexican banditos ever made. Or, hell, maybe they made those movies after listening to guys like this. Who knows?