The Out-Crowd
Part 1: Falling into Place.
We had been there since about 7:00pm and all of the big hard-to-put-somewhere things had been put somewhere. There were, of course, still boxes upon boxes of miscellaneous things spread all throughout our new house. It was cluttered, to say the least.
It was now well into 2:00am, and the hideously awkward wardrobe had finally been shoved up a flight of stairs and through a hallway into my parents' room. Needless to say, it was not an easy task. However, it being the time it was, and that wooden monstrosity being the last of what my dad called "the big stuff", I motioned to my parents that I would be going into my newly instated room, falling on the bed and dying of exhaustion.
With an "Mmm" from my father, and a wave from my mother, neither of which actually turned to face me, I headed off to open the door to my room. With a sigh, I ventured into the massive array of misc. debris, made it to my bed, as planned, but instead of dying, I simply fell asleep.
I woke up in the morning to my father banging on the door.
"Get up. Food."
I waited a moment, and heard nothing else, which meant he must have gone down for breakfast. My father was not a lingually stunning man in the morning. I took a few moments to look about me, forgetting for a second where I was. I remembered. Then I looked down at myself and noticed that I had slept in my clothes last night. Then I took another few minutes to get the signals from the back of my brain registered and approved by the front of my brain, and then processed through to my body, that I wanted to get up and get a shower then get the breakfast that my mom had undoubtedly prepared half an hour ago.
I got up from my bed and tried to take a step, but instantly tripped over a box that appeared from nowhere, and fell right on my face. With a thud.
I looked around and then remembered that the box had been there since last night, as well as the boxes that filled the entire room, and the two I just crushed under my arm and chest. Thankfully, they were just clothes.
After a ten minute shower in the bathroom just across the hall from my room, I put on a pair of dark blue jeans, a black T-shirt, and a safety orange dress shirt over it, which I left unbuttoned. I rushed downstairs and got tackled by Wallop. We'd named him well.
I fed the dog, or rather, the gigantic dog-like hornless wildebeast, and sat at the table. My intuition on mom's breakfast had proven itself correct.
"Good morning, one and all." I said cheerily. I don't know why, but once I'm actually awake, I get really happy. Go figure.
"Mmm" was all I got from my dad, he being already indulged in his paper.
"Good morning, hun," said my mother, scraping the last of the scrambled eggs onto a plate for me. "Your father and I ate a little while ago, but I heard you thundering down the stairs and made sure you got the last of everything."
"Huh! I never will get over how fondly you think of me." I said, grinning as she placed the plate in front of me.
"Just don't forget it, either." she said over her coffee cup.
"So, what are you doing today, Casey?" said the newspaper with a human body at the side of the small kitchen table.
"Oh, I was thinking of a day full of selling children to Castro for slave labor in the salt mines of Cuba, expressing my inner-most feelings on public properties with spray paint and vulgarities, and, if I have any time left, I was considering about finding an old lady to tar and feather."
"Not funny, young man." said the newspaper.
"You would be the worst heckler ever."
"I'm sure you'd be treated to the best."
"Oh-ho-o-o-o, dad makes a clever retort."
"Yeah, just don't kill your mother today. I have to leave." At this, he put the paper down, folded it into a quarter of it's size, and set it down by his empty plate. "And try to have some of your stuff put away when I get home, huh?"
"Yeah, dad. I'll try."
He looked at me like he caught the line, then sort of rolled his eyes and walked out to his car. A Taurus. Ug. We heard him pull out of the driveway and down the road. I honestly had no idea where he worked or what he did, but he had to wear slacks and a tie.
"So, what are you going to do today?" my mother asked.
"I dunno. Walk around, I guess. I'll take Wallop with me. He's a good conversation peice in case I see any kids around."
"Good idea."
Believe it or not, I had emptied my plate of scrambled eggs, six strips of bacon, and three sausage patties during the course of that silly conversation. I called Wallop, put his leash on his collar, and headed out the door.
We were walking down our street, taking in the 10 o'clock air. We just moved in from Ohio last night, but the fridge, stove, hot water; all that stuff was taken care of days ago. We'd also made a few trips out here, checking out a few different houses in the neighborhood, and, being a kid, it naturally bored the hell out of me. At sixteen, looking at empty rooms in empty houses is not excitement. Needless to say, I made excuses to go roaming neighborhoods a few times, so I knew where a few of the streets led.
After about twenty minutes of weaving through different streets and avenues, we ended up at a good-sized park. I let Wallop do the leading here, since I was taking in as much of the scenery as he was. I looked around and noticed a lifeless row of four see-saws, a few sets of swings, with only three or four kids actually swinging, and an exiled jungle gym. Near that, about six yards away, was a basketball court, asphalt of course, and a slightly rusted pole with white plastic backboard and red hoop at either end. Once I saw that, I saw something that did not need to be in a park for a stable, fun-filled environment.
Some big guy, in a white shirt and a green baseball cap, was holding a basket ball and getting in to some other kid's face. Green hat boy was about six feet tall, I'm guessing, and the other kid seemed about my height, maybe a little bigger; 5'6 or so. I noticed that the big guy was talkin' all pissed-off like, and would poke the little guy in the chest every once in a while.
I stooped down and unhooked Wallop's leash.
"Hey, boy," I whispered to the dog. "Come with me. Slow," I said, holding on to his collar. We crept over to a rhodadendron bush and watched. I could hear what they were saying now.
"...back here again." said the big guy.
"No, you said you never wanted to see me here again. I figured at 10 in the morning, you'd have a hard time seein' me."
"Well, you figured wrong, now, didn't you?"
"Give me my ball back, Rudy."
Mental note: Dislike Rudy.
"No. I warned you I'd have to do this."
"Give me my ball...back."
'Uh-oh,' I thought, 'Little guy's gettin' pissed!'
"No." said Rudy, and shoved the kid so hard he almost fell over. The kid was flaming now, and tromped right back.
"Give it to me. Now"
"Fine." Said Rudy. Then, without warning, a suckerpunched the kid right in the face. This shocked me, but it made me mad, too.
The kid hit the asphalt.
"Faggot." said Rudy. "Now get--"
He was going to finish, but I cut him off. Pointing at him I yelled, "Wallop--bad guy!"
Instantly the dog ran the few feet to the court then leapt into Rudy's chest and slammed him down on the asphalt. Wallop stood on Rudy, snarling and baring his teeth. I walked over and stood between Rudy and the other kid.
"Good boy. Stay."
I knelt down and touched the kid's shoulder.
"You O.K. man?"
"Uhh....Yeah. He just got a lucky one."
"Yeah, I saw it. Here." I held out a hand and helped him up. He took his hand off his face and saw Wallop on the obviously terrified Rudy.
"Whoa! Is that yours?" the kid asked, looking in awe at my growling beast.
"Yup. That's Wallop. He's on our side," I said, smiling. "What's your name?"
"Jeremy," he said, then looked at me for the first time. "Wow."
"What?"
"Uh...nuthin'."
I knelt down by Rudy, getting close to his face, almost as much as Wallop.
"Hey there." I said in a cheery voice.
"Fuck you!" He yelled. I snapped my fingers and Wallop snapped at his face, but didn't get him. He's trained to scare, not really hurt.
"Now, you ready to talk?"
"Yeah," he said, more scared than ever.
"Good. Now, granted, I'm new around here, but I really can stand it when the big guys push the little guys around. Especially to the point where the big guys start telling the little guys where they can and cannot go. Now, I would very much appreciate it if you apologized to my friend Jeremy, here, and revoked your little rule about seeing him in the park."
"Get your fucking dog off me, first."
I snapped my fingers. CHOMP!!!
"O.K.! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!!! You can be here whenever you fucking want, now get the damn dog away from me!!"
I stood up and backed away.
"Wallop. Com'mere."
Wallop jumped off of Rudy and sat beside me. Jeremy was behind me to my right the whole time. Rudy got up and dusted himself off.
"I'll get you, asshole. What's your name?"
"Casey."
"Yeah, I bet." He muttered as he backed away. "You're a dead man, Casey." After these words, he turned and ran off.
"That was the coolest thing I've ever seen."
I turned around and saw Jeremy, with an enourmous grin on his face, and blood running from a cut above his eyebrow.
"Well, jerks like him piss me off."
"Yeah, me too."
"You live around here?"
"A couple blocks down. Why?"
"Because you're leaking face fluid." I said, pointing to his cheek.
"Oh, shit." He said, touching his wound. "I gotta get this cleaned up. You wanna come with? You're new in town, I could show you around, all the really cool stuff. It's the least I can do for gettin' Rudy off my back."
I was going to decline until he made the point about Rudy.
"You got sodas?"
"Absolutely."
"Let's go."