Reunion Time

His high school reunion. Frank went. School; he recalled each punch, every kick, every beating administered his body. A football field pinnate smashed open with an iron rod.

The taunts and fists relentless. Frank careful on the way home. Other kids had cars, Frank walked. Frank walked like he had on cleats; egg shells beneath him.

Here he was: High school reunion.

What was he doing here? Maybe he came to get a cheap laugh. Frank needed a cheap laugh; a good deep laugh at the expense of these human experiments gone wrong. Frank was morose. Being there was sick, twisted.

Frank stared at the dance floor, women working it on out to Jumping Jack Flash moving rolls of fat, cellulite and stretched marked tummies. Women, ankles thick and grizzled like ancient oak trees. Varicose veins along their legs leading to a dry honey pots. Hot, foxes morphed into women Frank didn’t recognized.

Sky Butler a homicidal fuck. Used his ball pean hammer fists to pound Frank in the ground. He became a spike wrapped in 16 year old boy flesh. Sky Butler glides towards Frank, a pot bellied shark zeroing in, on its last kill. Frank went out a door. He couldn’t fathom why this walking pig anus hadn’t grown up by now.

Parking lot. Frank leaned against car fender waiting; waiting for the inevitable.

“Same old Franklin boy,” Sky Butler nonplused, voice sliding out on butter of immature menacing.

“Not high school,” Frank grinned, like he had a reed of straw tight between his teeth. “ Grow up you backwards child.”

Sky Butler laughed. Answered with a slap to Frank’s face. It made his eyes water. Sky Butler slapped the other side of Frank’s head. A hand packed with bee stings

“Like high school small change.”

“Blow me,” Frank said, monotone.

A flash of night slid between them a sick, foul sheet of black glass. Frank jammed his arm through the yawing car window. Darkness dissipated yielding shafts of lamp post lights slicing through the parking lot sky. Popping open the cheap vinyl covered glove box, the door jumping up and down from the velocity of motion, Frank popped out a 38 drilled three lead holes in Sky Butler. Thick, red syrup splattered and dripped everywhere from the explosion. Man down. Gurgling, gasping for air, white, bubbles fulminating from Sky Butler’s his chest. Gravity pulled him to the ground.

Frank stepped over him death lingered like a glinting halo over the corpse. Frank drove off engine knocking. He couldn’t wait for next year’s reunion.

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