I had to do a short story, poem, whatever over a prompt that some random person came up with. My prompt came from a girl: "I used to steal money from my mother..."
So here is my short story. Enjoy.
I used to steal money from my mother. Guilt’s a bitch, isn’t it? I keep telling myself that I swear that it would be the last time, but who am I kidding? Mom’s such a dumbass that she doesn’t doesn’t miss a coupla hundred bucks a week, not when she’s married to this Harvard-educated guppy who’s 13 years younger than she is. I’m like, “What the hell were you thinking, Rog?”
True, in her prime, mom was definitely a looker, and I say that in a non-incestuous way. But shit, with time.... wrinkles are wrinkles and when you sag, you sag.
So yeah, 200 bucks a week does me good. Gets me the weed when I need it and covers every date I have each week, which on a good (or bad, depending on how you look at it) week, can be as many as 5 or 6. Hey, I gotta rest, too.
Rog bought me once of those new Mustangs. Royal blue, stick, with leather interior. In a coupla weeks, I’m gonna get to work on the engine, see what I can’t do with it. Too bad I couldn’t make the damn thing have a little more space. Need just a little more space for those good dates.
The last time I stole from Mom, I went for the jackpot, taking a grand. Big party week over Christmas break. 4 parties, 3 days. No one at home really wonders where I am. Mom’s at the country club all the time and Rog’s always out on business.
Party #4 was at my house... Just like every beachfront house you see in the movies. Marble floor, vast interior with enough room for at least 300 people, a baby grand piano to drunkenly dance on, swimming pool – Olympic sized, hot tub for 15 – no joke!
So we’re having a good time that night. Around 100 people. Bobby’s drunk off his ass as usual. Stupid dumbass looks sunburned like none other. Pattie’s topless, as usual. Not a bad looking rack; always a pleasure to see. Ron’s nowhere to be seen, probably bouncin’ the bed with some slut in my mom’s room. Gotta remember to change those sheets. Me and my honey, Veronica, are mackin’ in the hot tub with the others, gettin’ a little drunk.
“YO KAI!”
I turn around to meet one of my guests.
“Yeah.”
“You better come quick, man. Bobby just got in his car.”
Bobby’s car. A thing of beauty. Old style Camaro. Waxed and polished to a bright glossy red. Re-tuned to perfection. Wasted. On Bobby.
What can next be told cannot be told in absolute detail and credibility. Molasses and lightning at the same time. But I literally exploded out of the hot tub. Poor Veronica was caught in the blast of water. It was totally like one of those explosions in Dragon Ball Z. I made like the Flash into the street. Everything was just a blur, going so quickly, but yet so slowly. It was taking goddamn forever to catch up to Bobby.
“Bobby! Get OUT of the fucking car!”
“Fuck you, Kai! Dee Dee just told me you were sleeping with Leanna!”
Leanna. Gorgeous Vietnamese-European. Body to die for. Sweetheart. Bobby’s girlfriend. Date #2 this week. A good date.
“Bobby, Dee Dee’s a bitch, drunk, and doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about!”
“No Kai, I listened to you before and I always get screwed—“
“Bobby. Turn. Off. The. Car. Let’s go have a drink and talk about it—“
“NO KAI! NO!”
Camaro door slams shut. Shit. Bobby...
The metal beauty hums to life under the surprising control of its master. Or lack of control. The lights flash on and they start toward me, like a pair of demon’s eyes. And then suddenly, they lurch toward me and follow faster and FASTER!
The bastard’s trying to KILL ME!
My Flash reflexes are gone. It takes forever and I know I’m gonna die. I pray to God that it’ll be quick.
But then the eyes veer off to the left.
I’m spared!
CRASH!!!!!
“OMIGOD! BOBBY!”
“BOBBY!”
You ever see a beautifully restored red Camaro...
Crushed into the size of a small dumpster...
Against a tree?
That tree. My favorite tree to smoke under.
“OH MY GOD! Bobby’s DEAD!”
God damn it.
Like I said, I used to steal money from my mother.
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