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Cracked |
| Written by D.K. Phoenix | |
| Thursday, 21 June 2007 | |
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Share it:      # Ernie screamed with excitement as his baseball bat shattered the Bensons' wooden mailbox, sending splintering shrapnel in every direction. His buddy Jimmy, who was driving the '75 Chevy Blazer, let out a hearty laugh as a piece of wood stuck into the seat next to his leg. "Dude, that almost nailed my damn leg! Nice shot!" "Yeah, I hate those freaking wooden mailboxes. Think a nail got stuck in my bat." "Ernie, man, I'd love to see the looks on their ******* faces, especially that little prick's ugly face, when they see their mailbox in a million pieces!" "Hell yeah, J.J.! Mommy and Daddy Big-Bucks are gonna be pissed! Wonder if little Johny is going to tell mommy and daddy who done it? Man, I'd sure love to do that to his freaking little skull!" Ernie twisted the nail and pulled it out of the end of his bat as the old Blazer and its forty-inch knobby tires hummed down Deer Creek Road into the night. Ernie Hanson and Jimmy James never liked Johny Benson. In fact these two 17-year-olds didn't seem like anyone in Woodmont High School--unless they also drove old beat-up trucks and had fun at the expense of others. Johny was a gifted 15-year-old honor student who moved to Woodmont recently with his parents, both of whom were prominent lawyers. His mother accepted a position as a defense attorney at Woodmont County's Circuit Court. Johny struggled to adapt to his new rural high school surroundings. Although he made some friends, Ernie and Jimmy took an immediate disliking to the new upper-middle class sophomore. "Hey, nice glasses, little man!" Ernie said as he pushed Johny onto the hallway floor during his first day at Woodmont High. Weighing no more than 115 pounds, the frail, skinny sophomore brushed his black hair out of his eyes with one hand while feeling for his round bifocals with the other. "Oops, I apologize for that. Please excuse my obnoxious, dickhead friend's poor manners. Let me get those for you," Jimmy said, laughing hysterically, as he stomped his foot with full force onto Johny's displaced glasses. "Hey! What's your problem? I have done nothing to you! This injustice will not go unanswered!" responded Johny as he flew face-first into his locker. Johny endured harassment from Jimmy and Ernie on a constant basis during his three months at his new school. Subsequent attacks in the hallway ensued. One day Jimmy smashed an apple pie in Johny's face in the lunch line. Embarrassed, Johny wiped his face and ran into the boy's lavatory in a crying tizzy. Even when the two trouble-makers were suspended, which was quite often, Johny was not safe from their cruel antics. Three days prior to the mailbox incident, Johny crashed his bicycle into a chain-link fence while swerving out of the way of Jimmy's oncoming Blazer. He switched lanes and accelerated as if he intended on hitting Johny on the opposite side of Deer Creek Road. "Go back to the city where you came from, loser!" Johny struggled to straighten his glasses as he staggered to his feet. Jimmy laughed and flipped his middle finger out of the window as he sped away. Cuts and scrapes dotted his arms as he wheeled his crippled bike home. The latest attack that was carried out on the Bensons' mailbox pierced through the silence of that Saturday evening like a gunshot. Startled, Theodore Benson dropped his Newsweek and sprung to his feet. When he could see nothing outside the window, he ran out the door and down the long driveway. "My Lord, what was that awful ruckus?" Marie Benson asked. Johny poked his head over the upstairs loft railing to meet his mother's gaze. "Mother, I would not be surprised if those two combatant hooligan seniors from my school are involved somehow. Where is Father?" "He ran out to the street, I think. He was out the door before I could even leave the kitchen." Just as Mrs. Benson finished her sentence, the door flew open, and her husband stood in the foyer with an expression of utter disgust. "Ted, what happened?" "Goddamn, son-of-a-bitch bumpkin, hick kids, Marie! Our new mailbox, scattered across the road. Gone. I know this must be the work of those two rocket scientists in Johny's school. I will catch the bastards, and there will be legal action, mark my words!" "Take a deep breath, honey. Yes, I concur with you, someone has to be held accountable. Poor Johny has been harassed ever since we moved here, Ted. Hanson and James have played some role in every situation that has been causing him so much grief." "Those boys need to be behind bars. I have had it with this small-town favoritism mentality: the James and Hanson families 'can do no wrong in Woodmont', because they have a deep-rooted history here. I say, 'Bullshit!' I could care less that everyone seems to be related in this hick-town. There will be hell to pay!" Theodore Benson has spoken to Principal Edward Hanson on numerous occasions about the actions of Ernie and Jimmy. "Mr. Benson, I am truly sorry. I will certainly reprimand my nephew and his friend. You're right, they cannot get away with such acts of mischief, and they both shall be dealt with accordingly." Mr. Benson heard these same words during every visit and telephone call to the school office, yet the two unruly boys continued to be allowed to return to school after only brief suspensions. The following morning, the Bensons stopped by the hardware store to pick up a new plastic mailbox that resembled a small, red barn. Its flag looked like a silo. This is hoaky, Johny thought. They spent almost an hour putting it together and attaching it to the wood post, replacing the obliterated mailbox. "Ahh yes, just like new, Son!" said the father as he adjusted his Hanson and Associates ball cap. "How do you propose we find out who is responsible for destroying the old mailbox, Father?" "Johny, son, mother and I discussed an idea this morning. A lawyer friend of ours, Salvadore Russino, had problems with vandalism at his home near Philly. Check this out!" Theodore jogged to his BMW, opened the trunk, and pulled out a shopping bag. He removed a plastic package, which contained one wireless night-vision security camera and a monitor. He also displayed a second package containing two walkie-talkies. He smirked as he held up his electronic gadgets. "While you and your mother were in the hardware store, I stopped into Radio Shack next door to buy these babies. I talked to Sal on the phone last night, and he recommended this. He used the same set-up to catch the destructive hoodlums who have been trashing his flowers. While monitoring the flower bed out front from the living room, his wife called him on the radio when she noticed two people approaching. Sal jumped out of his car and chased these two kids as soon as she advised him that they were messing with the flowers. Well, since that night, he has had no further problems! These hoodlum bastards are mine!" Worried and scared about his father's notorious temper, Johny helped his father carry the ladder from the garage and down the driveway without questioning him, and they set it up near the mailbox. Climbing the ladder, Theodore strategically placed the camera on an oak tree behind the mailbox and screwed it into the trunk, so that it was looking down. Johny installed the batteries into the monitor and flipped the switch, revealing a clear picture of the mailbox in the middle of the picture. "Hmmm, move the camera down slightly, Father. We need to get more of the road in the picture." "Okay, say when, Johny." While looking at the monitor, Johny informed his father once the mailbox was close to the bottom of the screen. The camera was in place, and the duo marched inside to eat lunch. "Well boys, are we wired?" Marie asked as she set a plate of cold cuts onto the table. "I hope these punk kids try it again tonight, because we are ready, aren't we, son?" "Father, I know Jimmy James and Ernie Hanson are behind this. Who else could it be? Their antics nauseate me, and I look forward to putting a stop to it!" Johny said with a confident, almost evil-looking grin. Later that evening, Johny enjoyed some time chatting online. His mind was filled with despair, and he dreaded returning to school the next morning. Mondays were difficult for him to handle. That infamous pit in his stomach stayed with him from Sunday evening through Friday afternoon each week. But Johny coped by focusing his attention on things that made him feel good, like chatting with his friends on the computer. While instant messaging his female friend in California, his mother's voice sounded with urgency from downstairs. " ****, looks like a Bronco or Blazer in front of the mailbox! Go, Ted, go!" "I'm on it!" blared Ted's voice from Marie's walkie-talkie along with the sound of the an engine starting. The tire-squealing of the BMW 525i onto the road overpowered Mozart's Jupiter Symphony, which was playing from Johny's mp3 collection on the computer. Johny raced downstairs to his mother, who was yelling into the radio. "Ted, did you get the tag number?" Static hissed from the speaker, although the phrase "no tag" came through loud enough for them to understand. Theodore was already out of range, so Marie called his cell. "Marie, it's an old Chevy Blazer from the mid seventies. They have no damn tag, but I know this is Jimmy James' vehicle. I could only see the outlines of two people inside, probably Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber. I'm not losing them! We're up to one hundred miles an hour now! They will pay!" "For Christ's sake, Ted, slow down, turn around and come home! We know it's them now. Don't be stupid! We'll call the police." "Honey, I can't talk now! I'll call when I catch these assholes!" Theodore's statement was followed by a click, then silence. "Your father has lost his mind. He needs to get a grip and let it go! C'mon, Son!" Marie said to Johny as she grabbed his arm. They ran into the garage; she revved up her Lexus, and they made a mad dash to the dark road, racing in the direction Mr. Benson went just a few moments prior. About five miles from home, Theodore was still in pursuit of the Blazer. Deer Creek Road would soon turn into a dirt road; the chase was taking them farther from town and towards the state forest. The driver of the Blazer shut off the lights just after realizing someone was after him, and there were very few street lights along that road. When the fleeing Chevy hit the dirt road, dust and small rocks pelted Theodore's windshield and hood. The passenger in the Blazer suddenly threw a bottle out the window, which shattered against the lawyer's bumper. Both the BMW and Blazer were fish-tailing along the dirt road at their high rate of speed. As she raced down her road and into the woods, Marie spotted the familiar red tail-lights of her husband's BMW in the distance. She tried repeatedly to call his cell, but he would not answer. "Mother, this is absurd. What is he doing?" "I don't know. His temper is going to bite him in the ass one of the days." Then, something appeared to go wrong--horribly wrong. The Beamer's brake lights came on as Marie and Johny saw its back end spinning around and over several times. She jammed her brakes; loud crashing of metal echoed throughout the forest as Marie and Johny watched in horror as bright flames erupted and illuminated the night sky. Sitting still, Marie was frozen. Johny yanked open his door and ran towards his father's burning car in the distance. "Father! Answer me! I'm here!" Johny dropped to the ground as the BMW exploded with a loud bang, sending debris in every direction. A chunk of a seat missed him by a few feet. There was nothing left of his dad, or his car. Sobbing uncontrollably, Johny inched toward the Blazer, which was also on fire, but still intact. There was movement in the driver's seat. Johny pulled the driver's door open; Jimmy fell onto the ground in a moaning heap. He recognized Ernie's bloody body in the passenger's seat with the seat belt still fastened; he was partially decapitated by the tree branch that smashed through the windshield during the crash. Johny's horror was replaced by hatred and rage as he looked down at Jimmy, who motioned for help. "H-Help me, J-Johny." Fire burned in the sophomore's eyes as he listened to the pathetic pleas of Jimmy James. Breathing heavily, he kicked Jimmy in the groin with all his energy. Then he kicked his face. Jimmy tried to scream in pain, but his voice was fading. "I hate you, and I hate this two-bit town!" Johny yelled as he split Jimmy's lip with another swift kick. Enraged, he grabbed Ernie's burning baseball bat from the ground nearby. He raised the bat over his head. "Johny, no! N-No, d-don't!" His mother tried to rationalize with him, but it was too late. The scrawny teenager swung the flaming bat into Jimmy's skull in rapid succession with pure, adrenaline-induced force. "You killed my father, mother ******! Rot in hell, you piece of ****! Die!" Marie Benson could only watch with an expression of utter shock and stillness as the blood-covered body of Jimmy James became unrecognizable after a minute of constant beating. She dropped to the ground, shaking and wide-eyed, crying hysterically. The faint echoes of police sirens gradually accompanied the orchestra of crackling, grunting chords of Johny Benson's rage-infused wooden bat symphony. Copyright 2007 D.K. Phoenix {moscomment} |
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