Luke threw the empty Hennessey
bottle at the water tower. It smashed hard and hit the cougar logo painted under the where it said Marshall. Through the field
and past the spruce trees and coming from the parking lot we could hear drunk laughter and somebody playing a little Hall
& Oates. Then some deep voiced guy said kill the stereo Phil and people stopped laughing and some dude said what the fuck
was that and the music stopped and Luke and I looked at each other and we were a little scared because we were stoned and
went to Carson and this was Marshall territory. Plus it was twenty minutes past curfew.
Luke held a finger up to his lips signaling shush. We could
hear rustling in the woods and what my ma might call ‘rowdy banter’. Somebody belched a big shotgun belch and
then another guy said did you drink my whiskey you dickhead and someone else said no wuss and then asked who you calling a
dickhead? Luke pointed to the nearby playground so I turned and looked and along with the usual slides and swings I saw six
aluminum sculptures of kids holding hands and laughing and sorta skipping. The kids were about the size of me and Luke and
in the darkness they looked pretty real. Like real kids and stuff.
The Marshall guys were getting closer and we could hear a couple of them pounding on
their chests and shouting let’s beat some Carson ass, kinda like a chant. Luke had been smoking pot for a few months
but this was my very first time so the whole scene was, I dunno, trippy. Or whatever pot people say.
“Go hold hands with one of the kid sculptures and be super
quiet and real still,” Luke told me, in a whisper. “I’ll be right back.” Then he ran low to the ground
and across the field, away from me and away from the Marshall guys who were now just appearing at the edge of the woods, wearing
puffy varsity jackets and hats and big ass boots. They looked liked total dicks.
I stood still for who knows how long before jogging over to the kid sculptures and
clasping hands with the one on the end: a smiling red-haired girl with freckles who was kicking one of her legs in the air.
I glanced down the row of kids and noticed that all of them had one leg kicked out in front of them so I said to myself fuck
balls, then raised and outstretched my right leg and held it real still, trying hard to blend in with the kid statue things,
which wasn’t easy because they were all white and I’m half Indian cuz of my real dad. Not computer Indian, feathers
and horses Indian.
I was facing in the direction of the Marshall guys who had come out from the trees and were walking towards me, across the
dark wet field, looking pissed and drunk. There were three of them. Three dudes. The biggest one cupped his hands and yelled,
Carson sucks big ones. Marshall rules and then the smallish one lit an M-80 and tossed it over his shoulder and without even
looking let it flame and fly into the trees, then pop and crackle. The M-80 guy said, “Where’s the motherfuckers
that defiled the Marshall cougar?” I guess ‘defile’ meant to throw a bottle or something, to throw it at
the cougar logo. The one on the water tower.
They stopped about a ways out in front of me and looked up at the water tower. You could see
splashes of dripping Hennesey near the cougar’s right paw and some smashed up pieces of bottle stuck to his tail. They
were quiet for a little bit while they looked at the water tower. Then one of the guys did that Catholic cross thing across
his chest and another one said Carson eats it big time and the other guys just nodded. Real serious like. I held super still
but my leg was beginning to shake and get tired and in my head I started kinda freaking out, partly because of being high
with pot for the first time but mostly cuz these Marshall guys looked super big and totally pissed off.Plus they looked like
dicks. Plus I was standing real close to the kid statue things trying to blend in even though I was part Indian because of
my real dad and the kid statue things were all white. I was wondering where the hell Luke went and was wishing I was at home
in my basement eating a Whataburger when the dude who hadn’t talked yet pointed at me and the other statue things and
said look at that shit over there. The fireworks guy said no fucking way while laughing and jogged towards me and the other
statue kid things. I tensed up real quick and reminded myself not to move my leg or blink or act like some kind of baby and
piss my pants.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the guy who hadn’t spoken much come around behind the kid statue things, grab one
of the girl ones from behind and start moving back and forth real fast, acting like he was doing her in the butt or something
like that. He was shouting state champs bitch over and over again and then just before he stopped doing her in the butt or
something he said this is your mom Phil and laughed hard and then Phil said you’re a dick and then Phil and the other
dude came over and lit a pot joint right beside me and then Phil said you’re a dick again. He didn’t say it to
me though. I was real nervous now and felt like I was sweating but I wasn’t. I was already counting my blessings
or whatever because those guys hadn’t recognized I wasn’t a statue like the other kids even though like I said
I’m part Indian because of my real dad. The muscles in my leg started to burn and stuff because I’d been holding
my leg in front of me for what seemed like a few hours but it was probably less because Luke says everything seems longer
when you’re on pot.
Then I thought of what a loser he was for taking off and leaving me there with those tough looking dudes.
Then I thought I’ve gotta take a leak.Then I started thinking about how much I’d like to be eating a Whataburger.
And then Bam!From the side of my eye I saw the one guy get off a roundhouse, kicking real hard the same kid statue he was
doing in the butt, snapping her head off. One of the pot guys next to me said whoa dude and then all three of them were
standing in front of the headless girl statue thing, laughing. The guy who said whoa dude said that’s some fucked up
shit, then picked up the girl’s head and chucked it far into the dark while saying see ya bitch. Then he turned to the
other guys and bet them five bucks he could smash a head too and someone said fuck it why not ten bucks and he stepped back,
let out kinda like a roar, ran towards the kids and tried to connect a kick but missed and fell onto a see-saw. The other
two guys laughed through pot smoke and the one who took the bet said you owe me ten bucks numbnuts and the other one took
a picture himself with his cellular phone. I could hear the one on the seesaw kinda moaning or whatever and I think I heard
him say shit, my balls. Or maybe it was just balls. Either way, he sounded hurt.
I had to take a piss and was hungry for a Whataburger and my
leg was burning to shreds and ready to fall from holding it out in front of me and all. I just kept hoping these Marshall
dudes weren’t gonna start whacking all the heads off the kid statue things. That would suck big time is what I thought.
And then after that I started to think where the fuck is Luke and that’s when the littlest Marshall dude – who
was still really big -- ran hard while screaming suck my balls and hit one of the statue things with a baseball bat that came
from I dunno where. The little kid statue head snapped from its body and fell into the woodchips and the dude said yeah bitch.
Now there were only two statues between me and the headless one.I was scared enough to clench my ass cheeks together. The
last guy said my turn dicks and took a bunch of steps backwards to build some momentum. The other two dudes sat down on the
teeter-totter. One of them said ten bucks you can’t take that head off while the other one stood up and then bent over
and lit his own fart. The last guy cupped his hands and yelled I will fuck some shit up bitches and then ran full speed at
the next statue, leapt into the air and landed one of his big boots on the chest of the redheaded statue. The kid cracked
in the middle but didn’t break and the dude said motherfucking balls and then started hopping around on one leg. He
said my foot is fucked goddamn and then he sat down and took off his boot and said this motherfucker hurts. It looked like
the guy was seriously injured. The other dude said I just lit my own fart.
Then I heard something like crickets but kinda louder and not
really cricket sounding much at all. Just past the water tower crouching in the woods I saw Luke waving his fat hand in the
air. He was the one making the cricket noises. I thought to myself I guess he’s not a total dick because he came back
and didn’t leave me there to get my ass kicked by those Marshall dicks. I was thinking to myself thank God for Luke
coming back and wondering how he was going to get me out of there, get me away from the Marshall dicks. Then I saw Luke hold
up a big white sheet with red magic marker that said I gotta get home dude. Then he shrugged and turned around and ran low
through the woods. Then I said motherfucker to myself. Then I thought where’d he get that sheet and red marker. Then
the dude they called Phil earlier said who just said motherfucker and the other guys both said not me but I heard someone
say it and they all started looking around and trying to look big. One of the dudes -- the littlest one who was still pretty
big -- was standing right next to me and he smelled like beer and smoke and some kind of whiskey or something. He smelled
like my real dad.
What’s up with that Indian looking one said the dude they were calling Phil and then the one next to me came real
close to my face and stared at me with squinty eyes. Then he said this one ain’t no statue. The other dudes came over
to look at me so I just held real still thinking they might change their minds and decide I was a statue afterall. And then
maybe they would just leave and not be dicks and stuff. But the dude with the hurt foot reached into the back of his pants
and like wiped his hand in his ass and then smiled and brought his hand back out. Now it was an ass hand.And then he held
it under my nose. The ass hand. I gagged from the smell and then they knew for sure I wasn’t a statue because statues
don’t gag or whatever. At least I don’t think so. My leg was tired and I was busted and scared and high on pot
so I just sat down on the woodchips and kinda curled up in a ball and then all three of those Marshall dudes stood over me
like mean hawks. Drunk mean hawks. What the fuck said the dude they called Phil. Are you Mexican or something said the dude
with the fucked up foot. Why you acting like a statue and shit said the last dude.
I just kept curled up and stared down at the woodchips and then
I said I’m not Mexican. I’m part Indian because of my real dad. Not Indian computers but Indian feathers and horses.
That kind of Indian. Then it was quiet for a little bit. Then the first dude said do you go to Carson? I told them no
I didn’t go to Carson because all the dudes there were total pussies and the chicks were ugly ass bitches. And then
I said Carson sucks big-time because that’s what I heard one of those dudes say when they first came out of the woods
acting tough, acting like dicks. Drunk ones. Then I felt pretty good because when I said all that stuff it sounded pretty
believable to me and so I eased up a little and started thinking about eating a Whataburger because I wasn’t as scared
now and plus I was hungry real bad. Then why the fuck are you wearing a pussy ass Carson jacket? I looked down at my sleeves
and my chest. I was wearing a Carson jacket. It was blue and white and had that big Carson Panther logo on the front pocket
and on the back too. Omigosh, I thought, how could I not remember I was wearing this dumb jacket? Probably because I
was high on that pot.
The M-80 dude cracked his knuckles. The hurt foot guy laughed a scary kind of laugh. Phil said dude we’re
gonna beat your ass like a drum. And then they all laughed and when I looked up one of them had his cargo pants around his
ankles and he was shaking his naked, pink cold ass in my face. Kiss my Marshall ass you Carson pussy is what he said. And
then one of the other dudes said yeah, kiss his Marshall ass you Carson pussy. When I looked up at the ass and the dudes I
could see the water tower and the Marshall Cougar and the broken bottle pieces and stuff behind them. And behind the water
tower I could see the moon looking like it had a frown or something. The moon looked a lot like the dude’s ass but not
as gross to kiss. The hurt foot dude held out a fist with rings and said kiss it bitch. I figured he meant kiss the pink cold
ass, not the fist. The fist with the rings.
I figured if I didn’t kiss the dude’s ass. they’d beat me down like they said.
I figured kissing the dude’s ass would only take two seconds but a beat down might last an hour. I figured it was just
skin, even though it was an ass too, but just skin anyway. Skin on an ass. I figured that if I kissed the ass these Marshall
dicks would let me go. I figured it was just an ass. So I got ready to kiss it.
Then I heard someone say what the fuck, kinda in a pissed way.
Me and the Marshall dudes looked over near the swings and saw my real dad and my Uncle Billy standing there with big ass beer
bottles wrapped in brown paper bags. My real dad was wearing a white jean jacket like usual and his little brother was wearing
his hat that said Chillin’. I’d never seen Billy without that Chillin’ hat. My real dad had a pony tail.
The Marshall dude pulled up his pants and the other one put his boot back on. Then the boot one said you’re a little
bitch to me and all three of them started walking back towards their car. When they got to the edge of the woods, which was
pretty far away, Phil yelled fucking Mexicans in our direction and then they ran.
I was just sitting there when my real dad walked over. He stood
there for a couple minutes without saying anything, just smoking a Pall Mall cigarette and squinting while he looked up at
the water tower. Then finally he said you better get home to your ma.He said it without looking at me. I didn’t say
nothing back to him. I got up and started walking away from the moon and away from the water tower and those Marshall dudes
and my real dad and Billy and his Chillin’ hat. Across the field in front of me and way out near the road I could see
the neon sign for Whataburger. But the a in the middle of the sign was burnt out and dark. So the sign said Whatburger.
Like a question. Like, you know, what burger? Where?
I dug into my front pocket and found a crumpled five dollar bill
plus two nickels and then I was kinda happy because I didn’t get my ass kicked or have to kiss that dude’s ass
and plus I had money for a couple Whataburgers and maybe even some Whatafries or Whatanuggets. Then I looked back behind me
and saw Billy and my real dad. They were chucking one of the severed kid statue heads at the water tower.
And I could see the moon too and it
looked the same as before.
