Chapter Four
While the gym’s warm shower rinsed the few remaining soap remnants from his
slender teenage torso, a never-ending echo of Butch’s promise began to play.
You know, we’re not done yet. And before this day is over, I’m going to stomp your scrawny tail so bad - they’ll be carrying you out on a stretcher.
“You did promise that Butch,” Paul muttered to himself as he turned to verify that Tim was still keeping watch from the wooden bench in front of his gym locker. “But sixth period is almost over. And so far, you haven’t done it.”
He then grabbed the knobs to turn off the shower and commenced to dry himself.
“Paul,” Tim yelled, the moment his friend straightened himself after drying his feet and legs. “I need to stop by my locker. I haven’t been able to find my iPhone, and I think it might be there.”
“Are you sure?” Paul walked toward him. “You usually keep it on you.”
“Yeah. I’m sure,” Tim said with a nod. “I’ve checked both my book bag and gym locker. It’s nowhere to be found.”
Paul frowned. “Well. If you must …”
“Sorry. I don’t have a choice,” Tim replied while taking a brief glance at his friend’s nakedness the moment Paul unwrapped the gym towel from around his midsection. “Otherwise, I won’t know what my assignments are.”
“Well.” Sigh. “OK.”
Tim looked at Paul and replied with an unspoken, “Thanks,” then rose from the bench and began to walk towards the exit. However, the instant he stepped inside the gym’s doorway, he turned around.
“I got an idea. Why don’t you quickly get dressed and come with me? Then there won’t be anything to worry about.”
Paul emphatically shook his head. “Listen, Tim. I appreciate your concern. But I dealt with Butch all last semester. And as you can see, I’m not dead yet.”
“You’ve just been lucky,” Tim replied, frowning. “I’ve seen Butch’s kind before. And they’re always bad news.”
Paul gave his friend a brief grin and waved him off.
“Just hurry up and get your iPhone Tim, and I’ll meet you on the bus.” Paul then watched Tim as his friend left the building.
Once Tim was totally out of sight, Paul grasped the stainless steel Master lock Mr. Franklin issued everyone at the beginning of today’s P.E. class and entered its combination.
“Starting at the number 6, let’s first turn the dial right two rounds and stop at 12. … OK. … Now left one round and stop at 18. … OK, that’s also done. … Now, let’s go right until I reach 24. … Great. That should do it.”
Instantly, an odor similar to the stench of rotting eggs overwhelmed everything within a ten-foot parameter the second the dark-gray locker door opened, and Paul quickly grabbed his nose.
“Man. I ‘m gonna to have to start using odor eaters or something,” he exclaimed, unceremoniously dropping his gaudy boots onto the cement floor below.
*****
“So. You’re finally alone,” a familiar voice loudly stated a few seconds later when Paul proceeded to fasten the straps of his outdated overalls.
Paul gulped and took a quick gaze around him. “Butch?”
Butch chuckled in reply. “Who else were you expecting, Tinkle Bell?”
“Tinkle Bell?” Paul repeated, looking confused. “Are you referring to me?”
“Don’t look so surprised, Tink. I now have undisputable proof that both, you and your friend are nothing but a couple of sex-crazed faggots,” Butch stated as he slid out from around the back row of lockers. “I’d make a bet you didn’t think I noticed Tim’s goofy-looking grin as he stared at your ass while you were taking a shower. And you certainly didn’t appear to mind.”
“Tim was staring at me? And smiling? … You’ve got to be mistaken, Butch. I’ve known Tim almost all my life. And he’s clearly not gay.”
“Yeah. Right!” Butch took a step closer. “And the next thing I’d make a bet you’re going to say is, he was only keeping watch so I wouldn’t beat your ass while you were soaping up.”
Paul gazed at the cement floor while his nemesis waited for his reply. “Actually, Butch. You’re right.”
Butch snorted and then violently grabbed a fistful of his victim’s overalls.
“You never cease to amaze me. Do you, you little shithead? First, I find out you’re a f*cking city slicker and a geek. Then you have the audacity to step inside my turf, wearing my gang’s fashion and colors. And now I discover that you and your new city slicker friend are nothing but a pair of ass kissing faggots wanting to grope each other.”
“Just wait a minute, Butch,” Paul replied as each exterior muscle within his slender bod began to stiffen. “You’ve been trying to claim I was a faggot ever since Daniel gave me a hug last semester and have never been able to successful prove it- so that’s old news. … What’s truly got you majorly ticked? This 1950s-styled outfit I wore today?”
“You’re damn right I’m pissed off about it.” Butch spat his reply as he drew his fist backwards. “Not only have you stepped inside my turf wearing my gangs’ style of clothes, you purposely decided to mock us by adding a faggot-looking yellow scarf and maroon-colored cowboy boots to the ensemble.”
“Wearing that mocks you?” Paul raised his right eyebrow.
“You’re damn right it mocks us you stupid faggot. And now you’re gonna die,” Butch replied as his left fist slammed into the center of his victim’s abdomen, just below the ribcage.
Paul lost his breath and immediately began to crumble. However, before his knees could reach the floor, a massive right fist connected with the bridge of his nose. … The resulting snap echoed between several horizontal rows of gym lockers.
Butch then stopped so he could see the extent of the damage he had done thus far… and after doing so, his lips transformed into a sinister smile.
Blood oozed in evenly timed spurts from multiple areas across Paul’s face. And with each additional kick or punch Butch violently bestowed, its flow would exponentially increase.
*****
A couple of minutes later as Butch’s enjoyment was about to reach its psychotic emotional climax, an unwelcome but familiar sound predominately told him it would soon be ending.
“Damn. Somebody always has to interfere by yelling, ‘Fight!’”
He then proceeded to bend down and to snarl at his victim – as if he were a pit bull getting ready for one final last attack.
Paul heard this frightening sound and tried to ease his 120 pound battered torso off the floor he seemed glued to.
Somehow. Someway. There had to be a way to escape from this monster. However, before his one and only futile attempt could begin, a brown-leather work boot abruptly struck his groin – and soon afterwards, two times in a row - it struck directly across the center of his chest.
Darkness immediately followed.
“Stop it right there, boys!” the P.E. instructor screamed as he and his assistant scampered across the locker room. “This fight’s over!”
So true, Butch thought as he gazed at the limp pile of bloody raw meat lying abnormally still near the front of his feet. My victim no longer has ears that are able to hear you. For vengeance - a dish best served cold – has once again successfully taken its toll.
*****
Not long afterwards 9-1-1 was called, and a piercing EMT siren began to reverberate across Alamance County’s countryside. However, it's repeating howling sound proved to be no comfort to the eight-year-old boy currently sitting in his wheelchair, staring at the person who used to be both his brother and hero.
“I tried to tell you this morning before we left for school not to wear that outfit, Paul,” Nathan uncontrollably wailed. “But you just wouldn’t listen. And now you’re …”