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In-lawsThis story may contain adult content. |
| Written by The Author | |
| Friday, 25 April 2008 | |
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Share it:      The Airport I looked with an emotion I could not place- hate? puzzlement?- what have you, I wasn't having good feelings towards my father-in-law. I could tell he hated my perfectly-replicated guts from the day I came into Mrs. Rachel Anderson's life. And, about my guts- they were cloned. Yeah, hate to tell you, but I have no real family. Shortly before the end of WWIII (The one with China, America, and various Middle-Eastern countries), the U.S Government finally realized we weren't in the best position to fight. We had no nuclear weapons. No atom bombs, no last-minute panic buttons to save the day. So, they finally decided to press hard on a relatively soft subject- cloning. They were using small, shoebox-sized cloning tanks to replicate organs if they didn't have them on the off-hand, and even that was rare. But, they had never attempted to clone a human being. First off, they had no way to make cloned things 'alive'- organs usually only had to be intact before they were transplanted. Next, playing God wouldn't go too well with the masses. But, the former was more of a problem than the latter (it's the ******* Government; they know how to keep secrets). But, several taxes and years of hurried research later, they were mass producing us and training us to kill. But more about that later. Right now, I was thinking about how best to kill the rich bastard before me. "You stay away from my daughter, you, you- Godless-" I wasn't going to wait until he was done. Right now, my rage was boiling over and well on it's way to spilling all over my psychological carpet. "Yeah? What were you doing when your daughter was being ******* raped in school? Where was your magic ******* checkbook, then?" "I- I...!" "You were sitting on your forty-million dollar ass in some office in New York!" I could see the expression on my father-in-law's face. Good- he was struggling for a response. "And another thing! Why the **** were you in New York!? Why weren't you with your wife and kids in Texas?" But, finally, he was able to cut off my ranting. "That's hardly the point! You're Godless! You're a freak of nature! You aren't human!" Rachel then joined the verbal brawl. "I love him! Nothing you, or even Jesus ******* Christ can say will change that." Yeah, now it wasn't a question- I was definitely having more than just one beer tonight. "Listen- Rachel, daughter-" "Go **** yourself, Dad." At a loss for words, John finally backed away. "Jack, honey, let's go." And, with one final glare, I walked away- somewhat triumphantly- with my wife. Later, at some airport restaurant called Frank's Burgers, I tried to console my wife. "Rachel, you heard the things he said about me, about you, about the kids-" I visibly and audibly shuddered- "I know he's as close as I'll ever get to a father, and that I have to try and respect him, but he's a terrible, evil person." I said, stroking her brown hair while she cried into my shirt. I knew a burger joint in an airport wasn't the sort of place to do this sort of thing, but drastic times called for drastic measures. Finally, after about five minutes of this, John Anderson appeared out of nowhere right next to Rachel- too close for comfort. "Rachel, can we talk?" he said, putting his arm around her shoulders for what I automatically registered as the joy of annoying the crap out of me. After what seemed an eternity, Rachel got up, and, in the split second John saw my face, I gave him my best don't-tell-her-any-bullshit look. He returned my scowl and furrowed brow with a smile. Then, they walked off to a bar-like section of the food court that seemed expensive. "Yeah, use your all-powerful checkbook, you rich bastard," I snarled to myself, slamming the barely-eaten burgers and fries into the trashcan. I was eventually caught by a slot machine- the classic 'Wheel of Fortune' game of chance. Finally, I was drawn in by the quarter-sucker, and was reaching in my pocket for a quarter. After an hour I was bored. I got up, and looked around. By an advertisement for a trip to some obscure island that was a part of Hawaii, I noticed Rachel weeping into my mother-in-law's shoulder. Instead of going for the two women, I went slightly to the left, towards my father-in-law. Apparently, he hadn't heeded my warning about giving Rachel any bullshit. "What did you tell her," I whispered as menacingly as I could (and after 5 years of combat, that's pretty ******* mean). "Just the truth," he said, an evil grin on his face, "nothing you'd understand." "Enlighten me." "Well, you should know better than anyone that you're the reason so many bad things have been happening." Rachel's cousin, Alex, had died by drunk driver. Now I wasn't playing- unless you gave me twelve syringe-fulls of morphine, there was nothing other than my little bit of self-control that would stop me from strangling my 'father'. Instead, I settled for grabbing him by the shoulders and holding him against the wall. "It's common knowledge that evil people bring evil things. You're satanic." So much for self-control. I removed my father from the wall, instead settling for tossing him on the floor. He was only 30-something, maybe just turned 40; there wasn't any guilt about beating on an old man. "If anything in the entire damned world is satanic, it's you, you rich bastard. Where were you, to console your wife when her sister died? When Rachel was being beaten by Mexicans? Oh, that's right, you were at a business meeting in Japan, because money that you don't need is soooo much more important than your family!" I hadn't even noticed that he had gotten up. Now, all eyes were on us; even the security was watching us with mild interest. "So, you like to hurt innocent old men, huh?" "Error. You're not innocent- you've bribed more people than the records can account for, and you've cheated more than a few times on your first wife. You're not old- You're thirty-something, right? And, last of all, I don't like to beat on innocent old men. I like to beat on evil bastards who think money makes them better than everyone else. And, guess what you are." I looked around out of instinct, and my eyes caught Rachel's green eyes, and oh, those mother ******* eyes, my rage began to boil down in spite of myself. John took the opprotunity and made a leaping punch to the side of my face. I was knocked down, and he began to launch a million punches at me. I used my two feet and sort of threw him over my head. I guess that's the only way to describe it. I didn't wait to see if he recovered in the few seconds it took my adrenaline-slowed mind to process my success, and got to my feet. TO BE CONTINUED Copyright 2008 The Author |
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| Last Updated ( Friday, 25 April 2008 ) |
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