Portrait of a Family[/heading]
“Right behind you, Dad.” His feet barely hit the floor he’s walking so quickly. His short legs are no match for his fathers 6’4” broad frame. They come to a door blocked by giant. The father hands the man a $20 bill that the giant puts in a box sitting beneath the stool where he’s perched.
“Let’s see some I.D.”
“I…uh” Searching his pockets. “Um…dad.” Visibly nervous, the boy shifts his gaze between his pocket and his father.
“Hey man.” The father says under his breath to the beast guarding the gate. “It’s my son’s 18th birthday why don’t you cut him a break?”
“Really?.” The giant chuckles.
“Yeah really. You gotta problem man?”
The giant gets off his stool and steps forward. “Nope. But now I do.”
The father takes a careful step back and puts his hands up defensively. He’s scared, but his posture never slacks. “Take it easy man.”
“You take it easy asshole.” The giant roles up his sleeves and the boy moves carefully away from the impending conflict.
“Dad.” His voice cracking. “Forget it. It’s just a bunch of naked girls anyway.”
The father turns toward his son. “Don’t be such a pussy. He ain’t gonna do nothing.”
The giant takes another step forward. “Damn right yeah I am if you keep talkin’ at that kid like that.”
“Mind your figgin’ business!” Turning his attention toward the boy. “Let’s go.”
“What did you just say boy? I oughta whoop your ass.”
The giant steps up. “Hey. Why don’t try whoopin’ the ass of someone your own size.” He pushes the dad. It’s just a nudge, but enough.
“You ain’t my size, guy.”
“Well now you know how he feels.” He nods toward the boy who is standing by the door.
“Screw you, assho-” Before the father even finishes his sentence a left hook connects with his gut and he goes down. No more punches, no more words, just a man lying on the ground, coughing and gasping.
The giant turns to the boy. “Get outta here kid and take him.”
The boy grabs the father and they head toward the parking lot. The man leaning his weight on the kid.
Once they turn a corner and are out of earshot, the father stops. “You get it?”
“Yeah. Every penny.”
“Looked to be a couple hundred bucks. I emptied the meat-heads box. The dumb thug never saw it coming.”
“I’m proud of you. I taught you well. Happy birthday son.”
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