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Guest Dabeagle

Al Oldie I found

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Guest Dabeagle

I was thinking of working on it, needs some tweaking before advancing I think. Thoughts welcome.

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Sometimes decisions are easy. Sometimes you know what the right thing to do is and the only real question is if you'll do it. Sometimes you know right away who your friends are and sometimes you know right away who your enemies are. I was eleven the first time I really remember having one of those moments I knew, absolutely knew was the right thing to do.

I was attending St. Patrick's Elementary School, or rather the last day of Elementary school had just ended, when I had this epiphany. Private school wasn't easy on my folks, they made a few sacrifices to send me to, what they thought was, a better environment. For those who survived parochial school you know it's as much a cesspool as any other school; same paranoias, insecurities and popularity contests. So while we all had to wear a uniform of blue cords, white button up and tie for the guys and blue skirt or slacks for the girls with a white button up and some funky thing that thought it was going to be a bow tie but got retarded in the process.

The cords and white shirts you can buy at K-Mart are not exactly the same quality as something you might get at, say, Bloomingdale's. Or Sears. Sometimes Save-A -Lot. Point being all the bull about the uniforms removing the distinctions between us was just that, bull. Matthew Baxter was one whose clothes put him in a different strata than the folks like me, who didn't shop at Bloomingdale's. Some days we didn't even shop at Sears.

Matthew was kind of distant, not exactly rude but definitely cool with people. He appeared to have friends, at least people who he associated with, but he also had a reputation for not backing down from anyone or anything. So the day he and I formally made our acquaintance, he was doing just that...not backing down.

I had just finished prying a solid mass from my locker, I think it was a few pairs of old gym socks that had fused with various wrappers and maybe a forgotten partial lunch or two when I heard a locker slam around the corner. At least that's what I thought I heard, until I realized it was the sound of something or someone being thrown into a locker. Slightly different sound, I'm very aurally astute. At least I am since I knew what sound a locker made when a body got thrown into one.

I walked to the end of the hall, and as I approached the corner I heard a few grunts and wheezes. Poking my head around the tiled wall I spotted Carl Shaughnessy, Lee Caldwell and Andy something or other. I also spotted Matthew getting up from the ground where he had just been tossed against a locker. So you see, aurally astute. Carl was huge for a sixth grader. Actually, he was huge for a garbage truck. Standing taller than a few teachers he intimidated regularly for whatever amused him at the time: lunch money, hand-held electronics – whatever.

Carl's massive paw reached down and grabbed Matthew by the hair, dark curly locks, and pulled him to his feet. The other two formed a semi circle either to watch or make sure Matthew didn't get away from Carl before they got a show. The last kid Carl had taken a disliking to had gotten a broken arm. I swallowed, hard.

The right thing to do was to help Matthew, I knew that. Three against one isn't fair, me making it two against one wasn't going to help that much. I just wasn't sure I had the balls to get my head beat in with Matthew for no other reason than it was the right thing to do. My decision was made for me, in a manner of speaking, when Andy spotted me. He nudged Carl and pointed at me with his chin. Carl's planetary sized head turned towards me until I fell into his range of vision. He scowled.

“Walk away, Stanley.” he glared at me and when I failed to move, stuck like a statue as I was, he turned part of his upper body towards me and repeated, “Walk away.”

I might have right then. Maybe not. I still knew the right thing to do was to help Matthew, and it could be argued that going to get a teacher or some other authority figure would have been help enough. But in the meantime they'd pound Matthew, I figured. I was kind of on the fence between stepping up and pissing my pants when Lee made the choice for me.

“Walk away, faggot.”

I suddenly felt less like pissing my pants and more like pissing on his head.

“Well, that's not fair, three against one.” I replied, stepping fully out from behind the corner and into view.

“You think two on three means you won't get your face kicked in?” Andy sneered.

“No, you're right it still isn't fair,” I allowed. I hoped my voice wasn't shaking too much with equal parts rage and fear. “I can give you guys a few minutes if you need to grab a few more friends,” I glanced at my watch, “But my bus will be here soon so you'll have to make it quick.”

Things happened kind of fast then, and I really can't say what order they occurred in. Carl's eyes bulged and he turned more towards me, but that may have been because Matthew chose that time to punch him square in the balls. Carl teetered and half turned towards Matthew again who sent a second punch into Carl's gut. Carl stumbled back ward a step or two with a small gasp and his eyes as huge as saucers, and then sat down heavily on his tailbone, gasping for breath.

Meanwhile the other two were headed towards me, not having seen their ace in the hole get his colossal ass stomped. I tried to breathe, to loosen my body to fight. I wasn't particularly good at the fighting, though I'm told I'm a world class bleeder. Lee got to me first and got a lucky shot right on my nose. No really, it was lucky. I swear. I did my part and started to bleed immediately. Through the haze I saw Andy go down, it looked like Matthew had kicked him in the side of the knee from behind and now Andy was howling on the floor and clutching the knee.

Lee half turned and I launched a punch to his side. Unprepared Lee gasped and turned back to face me. Unfortunately for him that left Matthew behind him and with a viciousness I had never seen before, kicked Lee in the side right about where I had punched him. Lee went down with a scream and rolled slowly away from Matthew, more from pain than fear of being hit again. I think when you get hit like that the first time you don't really think there might be more pain coming, your world just becomes the pain you have right then.

Matthew turned from me and headed back towards Carl, who was struggling to his knees. Matthew picked up a book that was splayed open on the ground and a torn back pack which I presumed was his. I wasn't sure on the details, I was busy holding my bleeding nose. Matthew shouldered the ragged pack and clutched the book in two hands, stepped up to the less than upright Carl and brought the book crashing down on the bridge of his nose. Carl, it turned out, was a world class bleeder too.

Matthew walked back to me, pulled a tee shirt from his pack and pushed my hands away from my nose. He put the cloth on my nose and an arm around my shoulder to guide me back around the corner.

From the time Matthew walked me home until today we never talked about the fight. He had helped to staunch the bleeding and had begun inviting me to spend time with him. Over the years his grandparents grew to love me. No really.

They were thrilled that sending Matthew to a private school netted him a friend from the lower economic strata, and they showed their appreciation for me by never addressing me directly. I was deeply hurt. For about a nano-second.

Chapter Two

“Oh I do love the first day, all those Freshman girls who just broke up with their high school sweethearts so they could get a college man!” Matthew enthused.

“And you would be that man?” I asked.

“God's gift, if you believe in such things.” He smiled.

I grunted in response. Matthew and I were stretched out on lawn chairs watching the freshman class arrive, appreciating the scenery as it were. This had become tradition for us ans as seniors, we intended to enjoy everything.

“Oh, she was a cheerleader, just look at that short skirt.”

“I have practice, I'll see you later,” I told him as I levered up out of the chair. He was already on his feet, however.

“You'll have to excuse me,” Matthew murmured as an afterthought and began weaving through the crowd. I'll go out on a limb and say his next conquest was imminent. I was a knockout of course, guys swooned wherever I went. The thing about guys is they swoon on the inside so it's not as obvious as it is with Matthew and his...indulgences.

Matthew seemed to be more about quantity, though I can't really say the quality was lacking. They just didn't last more than...well an orgasm or two.

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Great opening, but we'll need more backstory to get from Chapter 1 to Chapter 2. Surely Matthew's proclivities have had an effect on Stanley long before their senior college year.

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What Dave has given us is a great story idea.

I hope Dabeagle runs with this and we see a completed story soon!

Mike

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It’s a story that makes me want to read more. Great start.

Colin :icon_geek:

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Guest Dabeagle

If you don't do something with this, I'll come shoot you in the foot for you.

If your shooting is anything like your driving, I'm safe.

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Guest Dabeagle

I didn't wreck anything. Maybe I'll drive over your foot instead.

Not intentionally, you wouldn't. Oh, you'd be aiming for something - if you hit me, it'd be by accident. While driving that pickup with the sofa for a front seat :-p

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Where do the old folks go, besides Florida? BTW, I'm replacing the sofa with something a bit more sporty.

I could hit on you, but then I would get hit.

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I'm always glad to see a new Dabeagle story. I just re-read Su Cuy'gar, which just further whetted my appetite. Write on, Macdog.

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