Cricket, chapter 18
*Saturday*
Katie walked with Tré at her side to the lovely neighborhood and stopped. She ruffled his hair and grabbed his hand. He stood there emotionlessly and stared at the pink house with the ceramic unicorns in the front yard.
"Tré, it's okay. Christian's just trying to look cool. He doesn't really use dark magic."
"But he ain't good news. I don't think it's a good idea."
"Tré, I'll be fine. Just me, him, and a couple of his friends."
"Baby, if you need me, just holler my name and I'll be in this house faster than you can say 'supercalifragilisticexpialidocius'."
"Hey, thanks Tré, but I'm tellin' you, I'll be fine."
Her hands squirmed out of his and his face fell into a real frown. He stared down at the sidewalk. Katie noticed this and hugged him.
"Aww, Tré, I know you think he really knows Satan, but he doesn't, baby, he doesn't. He's just a freak and he's TRYING to scare you."
"What if somethin' happens though?" Tré whimpered.
"My Superman will save me," Katie murmured into his ear. Tré snapped up and stared blankly at her for a moment.
"I love you," he muttered solemnly, hugging her tighter.
"Tré, don't worry about me. I'll be fine," she giggled. Then she shooed him away and walked to Christian's front door.
DING-DONG. Hurried footsteps rushed to the front door and there stood Mrs. Hill.
"Hi Mrs. Hill. Christian here?"
"Oh yes dear, he's with some friends in his bedroom!"
"Thanks."
Mrs. Hill thrust a plate full of greenish brown goo in her face.
"Would you like some of Christian's favorite Jell-O?"
Katie stared at it, obviously disgusted.
"Did it come out of the fridge or did it come out his ass?"
"Dear, I don't appreciate the language."
"Fine. Did it come out his butt?"
"Young lady, what is it with you and your language?"
Katie's eyebrow shot up.
"Ugh, never mind. I don't wanna have your nasty shit Jell-O."
Then she left a stunned Mrs. Hill and her nasty turd Jell-O and went to Christian's room.
"Ah, Katie, m'dear!" Christian said upon her entering the room.
"Umm, hi Christian," Katie muttered, gazing at five other boys and a girl in the room.
"These are my companions: Josh, Spence, Daniel, Charlie, and Seth. Seth has mental problems. And this," he said, turning to the girl, "is my girlfriend Skye."
"Umm, nice to meet ya," Katie mumbled.
"Isn't she the cutest little corpse you ever seen?" Christian cooed, rubbing his nose against Skye's. Katie turned away.
EWW CHRISTIAN HAS A GIRLFRIEND?! And he just called her a corpse...? Ugh. I wanna puke.
"So what exactly are we doing?" Katie asked.
"We're going to visit Satan, my father, today."
"Oh joy," Katie mumbled, rolling her eyes.
"C'mon, my friends, let us go to the fiery depths of inner hell once again! I AM COMING, FATHER!" Christian bellowed.
"Okay, okay, we get it."
"Let us get in the truck, shall we?"
They all climbed in, with Seth at the wheel. Spence and Daniel were writing on the sides, while Charlie and Seth were pestering each other. Josh sat with his arms wrapped around his knees. Christian and Skye were making out. Katie was disgusted.
"Okay, y'guys, we're on our way to hospital!" Seth chuckled.
"Great. I hate you Seth."
"I love you Christian."
Seth floored it and the truck went spinning out from the garage into the neighbor's yard.
"Seth, you imbecile! You will wreck my, I mean, MOTHER'S ceramic unicorns!" Christian growled.
*Meanwhile*
A red truck backed out from Christian's garage. Tré, who was sitting in the bushes, saw the pickup truck rolling into the yard next door. He scanned the back and saw three guys, one who was making out with a girl other than Katie. Katie looked like she was gonna get sick. Tré gasped and burst out of the bushes.
"I'M COMIN', KATIE! SUPERMAN AIN'T GONNA LET SATAN EAT YOU!" he yelled, sprinting wildly behind the truck.
He began panting and gasping for breath, but kept going. He saw an ice cream truck drive by and he waved his hands wildly about. The driver stopped and went to the freezer.
"What can I get for you, son?" the ice cream man asked cheerfully.
"Sir, could you give me a..." Tré paused. "Oh my God, LARRY!?"
"Oh hey Tré! Barely recognized you. I never seen you dash like that in your life!" Larry Livermore chuckled.
"I never knew you was an ice cream man."
"It's a part-time job."
"Hey man, I'd REALLY appreciate it if I could hitch a ride and we can follow that red pick-up."
"What, Satanists takin' your girlfriend away?" Larry asked calmly.
"Yup."
"Ugh. Went through the same thing when I was your age. C'mon, Tré. Hop in."
Tré jumped into the freezer while Larry climbed into the driver's seat.
"Umm, Tré? Wanna come sit up here? You're either gonna freeze to death, eat all my ice cream, or get SWEAT in it. Getcha ass up here now!" Larry said, watching Tré's soaking hair drip sweat.
"Oh fine," Tré pouted.
He crawled up front and they drove off, Larry flooring it, to catch up to that crazy Christian kid.
* * *
"Hello?" Billie answered the phone, rubbing at his swollen leg.
"Hey sweetie. It's Cricket."
"Aw, hey baby. Whassup?" he cooed.
"I'm missin' ya. I'm here at the house all by myself and I have this great movie that I need someone to watch it with. You interested?"
"I miss you too. And yeah, sounds great!"
Just then, Dick walked by, glaring at Billie suspiciously. Billie gulped.
"But, uh, um, I c-can't come."
"Why not?"
"I'm g-g-grounded," he stuttered, staring right into Dick's piercing gaze. Dick smiled evilly.
"Bill?"
"Yes?"
"Does this have anything to do with last night?"
"No, baby. I..."
Dick came closer.
"Listen, sweetie, I gotta go. I'll talk to ya later. Love you. Bye."
And then Christina heard nothing but a click, followed by a long tone.
* * *
"Y'know, Dick, I liked it better when you stayed at the bar all day long!" Billie mumbled.
"Well too bad. I quit my job so we can have some quality time together," Dick murmured with a malicious grin.
"What are you saying?"
"We can play games, father and son."
"You're NOT my father."
"I'm yer daddy, Billie Joe."
"NO, you're especially not my dad!"
"BILLIE, I AM YOUR FATHER!"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO! NO! NO! NO! NO! YOU'RE NOT MY GODDAMN FATHER! YOU BASTARD! YOU BASTARD!" Billie burst into a whirlwind of spiraling anger, fear, grief, and hate. His eyes watered up and flowed down his face as he gripped his necklace as firmly as he could.
"YES I AM, SON!" Dick yelled back.
"I'M NOT YOUR SON, YOU STUPID FUCKING PRICK!" Billie sobbed, rage and sadness coursing through his veins. Dick tackled him to the hardwood floor and brought his face only inches away from Billie's. He pointed one ugly scarred finger in his face.
"I AM your father," he hissed, almost at a whispering volume.
"No, you're not," Billie gasped, also softening his voice. "No, you're not. You ugly sonuvabitch." Billie was wheezing and struggling to breathe at this point. Dick only made the breathing problem worse; he punched Billie square in the jaw.
"I am."
"You ain't."
As much as it hurt him, he wouldn't let a threat get to him. His real dad meant too much to him.
"Least I don't go 'round fucking your mom every night," Dick countered, closing his pinched fingers around Billie's neck. "At least she's decent."
"You don't fuck my momma cause you're too busy butt-fucking a bartender," Billie coughed. Whack. Another bruise. Why was this happening to him? Billie was all too confused.
"I know you fucked that slut last night, Armstrong. You don't hafta lie to yer ol' step daddy. Anyway, I never been around this house longer than an hour a day cause there was a big family 'round that wanted no part of me. Now that your brothers and sisters are working or in college, I have you and yer mom all to myself. And your mom's working now, and I'm unemployed, so I can spend as much time with you, my son, as I need to," Dick chuckled, grinning his sick grin again.
"Wha-what d'you mean, Dick?"
"You'll see. You'll see."
Billie clutched his pick necklace like a child would a blanket and wished; wished, prayed, and hoped he could get out of this. And fast.
* * *
Mike was sitting in the coffee shop sipping his cappuccino without a care in the world when he heard the ice cream truck. His face lit up and he ditched the coffee. He ran out the door, waving his hand full of dollar bills furiously in the air, hoping that he wasn't too late. The truck came to a halt and the freezer was opened.
"Hey there, son. What can I get you?"
"I'd like a...WHOA! LARRY LIVERMORE!?"
"Yeah, yeah Mike. Just order your freakin' popsicle."
"I want a strawberry pistachio chocolate-mint olive-covered cappuccino freezie-cone, please!"
Larry stared at him.
"Say WHAT?" he muttered. "A strawberry chocolate-olive-freezie pistachio cappuccino cone?"
"No, a strawberry pistachio chocolate-mint olive-covered cappuccino freezie-cone!"
"Oh! A strawberry cappuccino olive-chocolate mint-covered freezie cone?" Larry asked.
"No, Larry, a..."
"OH FUCK THIS!" Tré yelled, cutting Mike off. He hopped in the driver's seat and drove off, Larry lurching back into a bin of ice cream, and blowing Mike's bills all around the street.
"HEY! TRE! YOU PRICK!" Mike yelled after the dust kicked up from the tires blew away. "YOU OWE ME ICE CREAM AND MONEY!"
Katie walked with Tré at her side to the lovely neighborhood and stopped. She ruffled his hair and grabbed his hand. He stood there emotionlessly and stared at the pink house with the ceramic unicorns in the front yard.
"Tré, it's okay. Christian's just trying to look cool. He doesn't really use dark magic."
"But he ain't good news. I don't think it's a good idea."
"Tré, I'll be fine. Just me, him, and a couple of his friends."
"Baby, if you need me, just holler my name and I'll be in this house faster than you can say 'supercalifragilisticexpialidocius'."
"Hey, thanks Tré, but I'm tellin' you, I'll be fine."
Her hands squirmed out of his and his face fell into a real frown. He stared down at the sidewalk. Katie noticed this and hugged him.
"Aww, Tré, I know you think he really knows Satan, but he doesn't, baby, he doesn't. He's just a freak and he's TRYING to scare you."
"What if somethin' happens though?" Tré whimpered.
"My Superman will save me," Katie murmured into his ear. Tré snapped up and stared blankly at her for a moment.
"I love you," he muttered solemnly, hugging her tighter.
"Tré, don't worry about me. I'll be fine," she giggled. Then she shooed him away and walked to Christian's front door.
DING-DONG. Hurried footsteps rushed to the front door and there stood Mrs. Hill.
"Hi Mrs. Hill. Christian here?"
"Oh yes dear, he's with some friends in his bedroom!"
"Thanks."
Mrs. Hill thrust a plate full of greenish brown goo in her face.
"Would you like some of Christian's favorite Jell-O?"
Katie stared at it, obviously disgusted.
"Did it come out of the fridge or did it come out his ass?"
"Dear, I don't appreciate the language."
"Fine. Did it come out his butt?"
"Young lady, what is it with you and your language?"
Katie's eyebrow shot up.
"Ugh, never mind. I don't wanna have your nasty shit Jell-O."
Then she left a stunned Mrs. Hill and her nasty turd Jell-O and went to Christian's room.
"Ah, Katie, m'dear!" Christian said upon her entering the room.
"Umm, hi Christian," Katie muttered, gazing at five other boys and a girl in the room.
"These are my companions: Josh, Spence, Daniel, Charlie, and Seth. Seth has mental problems. And this," he said, turning to the girl, "is my girlfriend Skye."
"Umm, nice to meet ya," Katie mumbled.
"Isn't she the cutest little corpse you ever seen?" Christian cooed, rubbing his nose against Skye's. Katie turned away.
EWW CHRISTIAN HAS A GIRLFRIEND?! And he just called her a corpse...? Ugh. I wanna puke.
"So what exactly are we doing?" Katie asked.
"We're going to visit Satan, my father, today."
"Oh joy," Katie mumbled, rolling her eyes.
"C'mon, my friends, let us go to the fiery depths of inner hell once again! I AM COMING, FATHER!" Christian bellowed.
"Okay, okay, we get it."
"Let us get in the truck, shall we?"
They all climbed in, with Seth at the wheel. Spence and Daniel were writing on the sides, while Charlie and Seth were pestering each other. Josh sat with his arms wrapped around his knees. Christian and Skye were making out. Katie was disgusted.
"Okay, y'guys, we're on our way to hospital!" Seth chuckled.
"Great. I hate you Seth."
"I love you Christian."
Seth floored it and the truck went spinning out from the garage into the neighbor's yard.
"Seth, you imbecile! You will wreck my, I mean, MOTHER'S ceramic unicorns!" Christian growled.
*Meanwhile*
A red truck backed out from Christian's garage. Tré, who was sitting in the bushes, saw the pickup truck rolling into the yard next door. He scanned the back and saw three guys, one who was making out with a girl other than Katie. Katie looked like she was gonna get sick. Tré gasped and burst out of the bushes.
"I'M COMIN', KATIE! SUPERMAN AIN'T GONNA LET SATAN EAT YOU!" he yelled, sprinting wildly behind the truck.
He began panting and gasping for breath, but kept going. He saw an ice cream truck drive by and he waved his hands wildly about. The driver stopped and went to the freezer.
"What can I get for you, son?" the ice cream man asked cheerfully.
"Sir, could you give me a..." Tré paused. "Oh my God, LARRY!?"
"Oh hey Tré! Barely recognized you. I never seen you dash like that in your life!" Larry Livermore chuckled.
"I never knew you was an ice cream man."
"It's a part-time job."
"Hey man, I'd REALLY appreciate it if I could hitch a ride and we can follow that red pick-up."
"What, Satanists takin' your girlfriend away?" Larry asked calmly.
"Yup."
"Ugh. Went through the same thing when I was your age. C'mon, Tré. Hop in."
Tré jumped into the freezer while Larry climbed into the driver's seat.
"Umm, Tré? Wanna come sit up here? You're either gonna freeze to death, eat all my ice cream, or get SWEAT in it. Getcha ass up here now!" Larry said, watching Tré's soaking hair drip sweat.
"Oh fine," Tré pouted.
He crawled up front and they drove off, Larry flooring it, to catch up to that crazy Christian kid.
* * *
"Hello?" Billie answered the phone, rubbing at his swollen leg.
"Hey sweetie. It's Cricket."
"Aw, hey baby. Whassup?" he cooed.
"I'm missin' ya. I'm here at the house all by myself and I have this great movie that I need someone to watch it with. You interested?"
"I miss you too. And yeah, sounds great!"
Just then, Dick walked by, glaring at Billie suspiciously. Billie gulped.
"But, uh, um, I c-can't come."
"Why not?"
"I'm g-g-grounded," he stuttered, staring right into Dick's piercing gaze. Dick smiled evilly.
"Bill?"
"Yes?"
"Does this have anything to do with last night?"
"No, baby. I..."
Dick came closer.
"Listen, sweetie, I gotta go. I'll talk to ya later. Love you. Bye."
And then Christina heard nothing but a click, followed by a long tone.
* * *
"Y'know, Dick, I liked it better when you stayed at the bar all day long!" Billie mumbled.
"Well too bad. I quit my job so we can have some quality time together," Dick murmured with a malicious grin.
"What are you saying?"
"We can play games, father and son."
"You're NOT my father."
"I'm yer daddy, Billie Joe."
"NO, you're especially not my dad!"
"BILLIE, I AM YOUR FATHER!"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO! NO! NO! NO! NO! YOU'RE NOT MY GODDAMN FATHER! YOU BASTARD! YOU BASTARD!" Billie burst into a whirlwind of spiraling anger, fear, grief, and hate. His eyes watered up and flowed down his face as he gripped his necklace as firmly as he could.
"YES I AM, SON!" Dick yelled back.
"I'M NOT YOUR SON, YOU STUPID FUCKING PRICK!" Billie sobbed, rage and sadness coursing through his veins. Dick tackled him to the hardwood floor and brought his face only inches away from Billie's. He pointed one ugly scarred finger in his face.
"I AM your father," he hissed, almost at a whispering volume.
"No, you're not," Billie gasped, also softening his voice. "No, you're not. You ugly sonuvabitch." Billie was wheezing and struggling to breathe at this point. Dick only made the breathing problem worse; he punched Billie square in the jaw.
"I am."
"You ain't."
As much as it hurt him, he wouldn't let a threat get to him. His real dad meant too much to him.
"Least I don't go 'round fucking your mom every night," Dick countered, closing his pinched fingers around Billie's neck. "At least she's decent."
"You don't fuck my momma cause you're too busy butt-fucking a bartender," Billie coughed. Whack. Another bruise. Why was this happening to him? Billie was all too confused.
"I know you fucked that slut last night, Armstrong. You don't hafta lie to yer ol' step daddy. Anyway, I never been around this house longer than an hour a day cause there was a big family 'round that wanted no part of me. Now that your brothers and sisters are working or in college, I have you and yer mom all to myself. And your mom's working now, and I'm unemployed, so I can spend as much time with you, my son, as I need to," Dick chuckled, grinning his sick grin again.
"Wha-what d'you mean, Dick?"
"You'll see. You'll see."
Billie clutched his pick necklace like a child would a blanket and wished; wished, prayed, and hoped he could get out of this. And fast.
* * *
Mike was sitting in the coffee shop sipping his cappuccino without a care in the world when he heard the ice cream truck. His face lit up and he ditched the coffee. He ran out the door, waving his hand full of dollar bills furiously in the air, hoping that he wasn't too late. The truck came to a halt and the freezer was opened.
"Hey there, son. What can I get you?"
"I'd like a...WHOA! LARRY LIVERMORE!?"
"Yeah, yeah Mike. Just order your freakin' popsicle."
"I want a strawberry pistachio chocolate-mint olive-covered cappuccino freezie-cone, please!"
Larry stared at him.
"Say WHAT?" he muttered. "A strawberry chocolate-olive-freezie pistachio cappuccino cone?"
"No, a strawberry pistachio chocolate-mint olive-covered cappuccino freezie-cone!"
"Oh! A strawberry cappuccino olive-chocolate mint-covered freezie cone?" Larry asked.
"No, Larry, a..."
"OH FUCK THIS!" Tré yelled, cutting Mike off. He hopped in the driver's seat and drove off, Larry lurching back into a bin of ice cream, and blowing Mike's bills all around the street.
"HEY! TRE! YOU PRICK!" Mike yelled after the dust kicked up from the tires blew away. "YOU OWE ME ICE CREAM AND MONEY!"
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