Dustin's World

Frank Smith walked out of the Lucky Strike Bar and Grille feeling a nice buzz. He'd missed his best friend alcohol during his stay in prison. But since he'd been released, he'd slowly worked his way back into his old routine.

He wasn't going to stick around the area too much longer. There wasn't anything left for him in the Valley anymore. He didn't know why he'd come back in the first place. He could have gone anywhere when they let him go. But the first place he'd gone was right back to the bitch.

He was never afraid of Carol. Try as she may, she couldn't intimidate him. She was a large woman, but she was, after all, just a woman. He knew how to keep his bitch in line. Sure she was a tough one to manage, but Frank wasn't going to be controlled.

Having Dustin show up that night had been a surprise. He wasn't quite sure what the kid was going to do. His mind had been so screwed up by that dead bitch and her little queer bastard. He honestly was thinking that Frank had molested him. And then Carol had let it slip that Dustin was turning into a big flaming queer himself. Sure he'd always suspected the boy and George Roberts' kid might have been doing things, but Carol was positive that he was selling his ass for rent money.

Well, that theory certainly proved itself when he'd seen him at that party. The little poof was banging his old friend Scott. Well, he figured he'd given him a good scare when he slapped him around a little. He couldn't have the kid giving him a bad reputation. Well, as bad a reputation as a convicted child molester could have, anyway.

"I'll have to have another talk with Scott before I go. And I'll have to register with the fuzz when I move. Fucking Megan's Law... They'll put my goddamn picture in all the schools. Like I would ever hurt a kid."

It was all a big misunderstanding really. He knew it was a bad idea to screw the boy. He always had to get really trashed before he did it. But it did feel good. God did it feel good. It was more intoxicating than the booze was. And it was probably why he kept doing it. It wasn't even the sex, it was the power. When he was teaching his unruly son his lessons, there was nothing that could stop him.

And then that dead bitch had to put her nose into his business. He'd never seen that one coming. He'd always been afraid of George Roberts. He always felt like that guy could see right into him. He was glad when Dustin had broken away from that smartass kid of his. He even let him grow his hair out because he figured the little Roberts queer didn't like it. And keeping that brat out of his hair kept his father out of his business too.

And then Dustin had gone and gotten himself hurt. Stupid little shit. Carol had thought that the neighbor guy did it. Frank knew quite well that Dustin was getting his ass fucked by the neighbor guy. He'd checked the guy out. He was a queer and a half. And just the right age to draw attention away from himself if things got difficult. He'd dropped enough hints about not liking how much time Dustin spent with him to throw Carol off the trail. And Carol had fallen for it. She almost killed the stupid fag.

And that's when the Reilly bastard blew everything. He'd never seen it coming. The Reilly bastard... He was sure that Dustin hated the little queer. But then, it didn't matter. Carol had caught him off guard that day. He didn't have time to think. He could explain everything if she'd just shut up and give him a minute. Fucking little bastard kid blew everything.

"At least the bitch is dead." Frank said, almost chuckling at the thought.

"What the hell is this shit?"

Frank walked to his car and knelt down by the front driver's side tire. It would have been one thing if it was flat, but it was obviously slashed.

"This shit is why I have to get out of here. Stupid fuckers think I'm a goddamn molester." Frank said to himself.

"Looks like you have some car trouble."

Frank jumped from the start and turned around, ready to fight. But then he relaxed.

"Dustin." He said. "You do this, you little shit?"

Dustin pulled a knife out of his pocket and tossed it toward his father's feet.

"You stupid little fuck!" Frank snarled. "You better be ready to pay for this."

"No, you're the one who's going to pay." Dustin said, his voice uneven. "For everything."

"What are you some kind of tough guy now?" Frank asked. He began walking toward his son.

Dustin reached into his inside coat pocket. "Don't you touch me." He warned.

"Come on you little faggot. Let's hash this shit out once and for all." Frank said.

Dustin pulled his hand from his pocket. Frank saw the glint of steel in his hand. He didn't have to guess what Dustin had pulled from his pocket.

"Now hold on there..."

"I have every intention of hashing things out, dad."

"All I have to do is call for help son."

Dustin smiled. "Who's going to give a shit, dad? Maybe the bartender, since he'd lose a regular. But then, he probably doesn't like the reputation you give his establishment."

"Dustin..."

"I'm going to kill you dad." Dustin said. "First I'm going to shoot your nuts off."

Frank instantly moved his hands down to the family jewels.

Dustin laughed. "Like your hands are going to stop the bullets."

"Dustin, stop this."

"After I shoot your nuts off... How many bullets do you think that'll take? I mean, I know they're pretty big, but then everything seems big down there to a fourteen year old."

"Come on, Dustin. Give me the gun before you hurt yourself."

"I ALREADY HURT MYSELF!!!!!" Dustin roared.

Frank stepped back. He'd never heard the boy act that way.

"After you made it clear that my life isn't worth shit." Dustin then said as calmly as he'd ever sounded.

"Dustin, listen to me..."

"You know, after I shoot your balls off, people are going to hear the gunshots. They're going to come out of that fucking place. They'll probably stop me before I can shoot you in the head. Shit... You'll probably survive. Of course, if you do, then I'll only get charged with attempted homicide. That's sort of like that attempted suicide thing I did. You know. The one I couldn't get right?"

"Come on Dustin..."

"But then, after what you did to me, they'll probably be real lenient. Probably, I'd just get assault charges. And if I get a nice liberal judge, they'll probably give me a medal. If I tell 'em I'm gay I can say it was a hate crime and I had to defend myself."

"Come on Dustin, you're acting like an idiot."

"I don't think you grasp the reality of the situation, dad. I'm the one with the gun."

"You're crazy." Frank mumbled.

KA-BLAM!!!!!

"Jesus Christ!!!" Frank cried. Both of his front windows shattered.

"I'M NOT CRAZY YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!!!"

"Dustin Dwayne..."

"Apologize." Dustin said calmly.

"What?" Frank asked.

"Apologize for insulting me." Dustin said again.

"I'm not going to..."

Click. Dustin's thumb rearmed the weapon.

"Okay, I'm sorry for insulting you." Frank said quickly. Fuck, where was everybody? Hadn't anybody heard the gun shot?

"Good." Dustin said. "Now, apologize for hitting me."

"Dustin..."

"QUIT SAYING MY GODDAMN NAME YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!!!"

"I gave you that name." Frank said, the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. "Your mother wanted to name you Vince."

"I don't care." Dustin said coldly. "Now, apologize for hitting me at that party."

"I didn't..."

"Left or right first?" Dustin asked pointing the gun to his father's crotch.

"Alright, alright! I'm sorry I hit you at the party." Frank squealed, his hands again trying to deflect any flying shrapnel.

"Good." Dustin said calmly. "Now... Apologize for breaking my arm when I was thirteen."

"What?"

"Do it." Dustin ordered.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Dustin asked.

"I'm sorry I broke your arm." Frank said quickly.

"Good. That really hurt, you know."

"Dustin, stop this shit..."

"I thought I told you to stop saying my name." Dustin said, his voice so calm it was scary.

"Sorry." Frank said.

"Now, apologize for molesting me." Dustin said.

"I didn't..."

"DO I LOOK LIKE I'M STUPID?!?!?!" Dustin raged. "I was there dad. Now it's just you, me and the gun. I just want to hear the words."

"No." Frank said.

"No? Okay. Goodbye family jewels." Dustin aimed the gun.

"Dustin please..."

"APOLOGIZE FOR FUCKING ME!!!!!" Dustin screamed. "NOW!!!!"

"I'm not..."

"TELL ME YOU'RE SORRY FOR RUINING MY GODDAMN LIFE!!!!!"

"Okay I'm sorry!" Frank cried.

Dustin scowled. "You didn't mean it. Say it like you mean it."

"I'm sorry." Frank said again.

"For what?" Dustin asked, pointing the gun at his father's face.

Frank sighed. "I'm sorry you think I molested you."

"No... That's not what I want to hear." Dustin said.

"Come on, Dust... uh... son..."

"Apologize for molesting me." Dustin ordered.

"I'm sorry I molested you." Frank mumbled.

"MEAN IT!!!!!" Dustin roared.

"I apologize for molesting you!" Frank shouted.

Dustin exhaled slowly. "Good... Now, just shut up and listen. I loved you. I loved you as much as a son can ever love a father. You could have hit me, you could have kicked me. You could have done just about anything to me, and I'd have still loved you. But you violated that love. You hurt me. You hurt me worse than a father could ever hurt a son. You ripped out a piece of my soul that I'll never get back. I will never forgive you. You stole a piece of my life. I never get to look back at my first time and smile. I never get to remember playing catch with my old man. I'll never get to be normal.

"But you'll never get to see your grandkids. I almost had one. How do you like that? Your queer son fucked a girl and almost had a kid. But she killed it. How do you like that?"

"Will you please put the gun away?" Frank asked.

Dustin sighed. "I hate you. Turn around."

"Dustin..."

"TURN THE FUCK AROUND!!!!!"

Frank slowly turned toward his car.

"Put your hands on the roof." Dustin ordered.

"Dustin..."

"DO IT!!!"

Frank put his hands on the roof of his car.

"You remember what used to happen when you'd have me like this? Because I do. I'll never forget it. But this isn't about sex. This is about revenge. It's time to die, Frank. You are finally going to pay for what you did to me."

"Dustin please..."

Click. Frank realized that his son was serious.

"Oh god..."

Frank felt the barrel of the gun against the back of his head.

"This is gonna make a mess..."

Frank felt the panic grip him. He reached through his memory. "Our father who art in heaven..."

"What the fuck are you doing? Do you even remember that whole thing?" Dustin asked.

"Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done." He said quickly.

"You're still going to hell." Dustin scoffed.

"Oh my god... Please don't kill me Dustin. Please don't..."

"Three..."

"Dustin!"

"Two..."

"Don't!"

"One..."

"I love you!" Frank cried.

"I don't care." Dustin said coldly.

KA-BLAM!!!!!!

...

A red liquid slowly crept across the parking lot. A large puddle of it was splattered all over the place, and there were streams of it flowing through the lot. It would dry eventually, leaving a scar on the earth as testimony of what had happened there.

Dustin Smith stood triumphant over the body of his father. Dustin delighted in the fact that he'd actually wet himself before the gun went off. Did it make up for the years of abuse? Of course not. Did it make him feel better? Hell yeah.

"Wow, that's quite a mess." Dustin said, smiling.

He knelt down beside the car, near his father. He dipped his finger in the puddle, observed how the red liquid flowed down toward his palm.

"Looks like you've got quite a problem here. Looks like you got a leak in your transmission somehow."

"You son of a bitch..." Frank cursed.

"Well, I'm no son of yours." Dustin replied. "So I guess that's correct. I am a son of a bitch. And you know what? All the times I was scared of you I never pissed myself. What a fucking joke."

Dustin stood back up. He put the gun back in his pocket. "You have three days to get this shit fixed a nd get the fuck out of town. Get out and never come back. If I see you again, I am going to kill you, Frank. And it won't be with a gun, but slow. And bad... I've heard that you can literally rip someone's balls off with your bare hands. I guess we'll find out."

Dustin slowly started walking toward the bar. "Oh, and thanks for saying you loved me. I don't think I ever heard you say that in my whole life."

Dustin opened the door to the bar and walked inside. He walked to the bar and sat on a stool. "Thanks Harry."

"No problem. Anything for Big Red." Harry smiled. "Everything taken care of?"

"Yup." Dustin replied.

Harry poured a Coke and handed it to Dustin. "On the house."

"You didn't spike it hoping I'd get a little tipsy and you could take advantage of me did you?"

"I know your opinion of alcohol." Harry replied.

"Should I call a tow truck and get that piece of shit out of your parking lot?"

"I think I saw him start walking." Harry smiled.

"Isn't it supposed to snow tonight?" Dustin asked.

"Yup." Harry laughed.

"Good. Fuck the tow truck." Dustin laughed as he emptied his glass.

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And of course, there's the story that started this adventure:
/nifty/gay/highschool/war/

Chapter Sixteen - Best Served Cold

by Jeff Wilson