Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Three
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Kevin would be sore as shit for the next few days, but he’d survive.
Too bad I couldn’t say the same for the douchebags.
“Can you walk?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Kevin groaned as I helped him stand. “I think so.”
“Good, then let’s go,” I said.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s time for another lesson,” I said. “Except this time you’ll be the one teaching it.”
“What kind of lesson?”
“The most important one.” I was already unbuttoning the cuffs of my sleeves, rolling them up above my elbows. I pulled my gun from my pants and shoved it into Kevin’s surprised hands. I clapped him on the shoulder. “You don’t fuck with Samuel Clearwater.”
****
We were on the beach watching the three bitches who jacked Kevin through an opening in the tall grass. It was dark, almost midnight, but the lights from the nearby hotel gave off just enough light to properly see our targets who were gathered around a small fire pit, drinking beers and laughing amongst themselves.
They wouldn’t be laughing long.
“What are you going to do?” Kevin asked.
“You’ll see. Just stay behind me for now.” I took off my shoes and carried them in my hands, strolling by them like I was any other citizen taking a stroll to feel the cool sand between their toes.
I’m not gonna lie, it did feel kind of spectacular.
I’d just about passed them when I spun my head back around. The three of them watched as I approached. “Hey, how you doing, man?” I asked enthusiastically. “It’s been so fucking long.”
In my head I’d given them names. Dickbag #1, #2, and #3.
Dickbag #1, who was standing with his leg propped up on a log like Captain fucking Morgan, looked over at me and squinted. “Um. Yeah, it has been while, man,” he said, confusion all over his face as he tried to place me.
“Come on in here, give your old friend a hug,” I said reaching for his hand and pulling him in for a bro hug. Except when he made a move to step back I reached for my gun and before he knew what was happening I pistol-whipped him across the side of the face, knocking him out cold. I covered my mouth with my hand. “Oops, I guess we didn’t know each other after all.”
“What the fuck?” Dickbag #2 said, standing up from his chair.
“You sit the fuck back down,” I ordered, training my gun on him. “Kevin, come on out here,” I called. Kevin stepped out of the shadows.
Dickbag #2 swore. “Fuck.”
“You guys have already met my brother, Kevin, right?” I asked, pointing my gun from one shivering dickbag to the other. “You guys must be from out of town,” I said.
Dickbag #3 shook his head. “No, we’re from Coral Pines.”
“Then you should fucking know better than to mess with me and mine,” I said.
“Who...who are you?” Dickbag #3 asked.
“Oh, shit, my bad. I didn’t introduce myself yet.” I cleared my throat. “Let’s start over. My name is Samuel Clearwater.”
“Oh shit!” Dickbag #2 yelled. He tried to make a run for it but before he could leap over the log he was sitting on I fired, landing a shot in the back of his thigh. He crumbled to the sand and pressed his hand over the wound, wailing like I’d just killed his mama. I rolled my eyes. “Shut the fuck up. I’ve been shot like,” I paused to count on my fingers. “Well, at least like three times and it doesn’t hurt that fucking bad. Don’t be a pussy. Take your punishment like a man.”
I turned to the Dickbag #3 “Tell him that being shot doesn’t hurt that bad.”
“I’ve never been...” he started. I fired one off, pegging him in the foot.
“Kevin, get your shit back,” I said.
Kevin opened the cooler and pulled out a bag of weed and a stack of cash. “Got it.”
“Now when this one wakes up, you two will need to tell him exactly how it feels,” I kicked Dickbag #1, rolling him over onto his back with my foot. “Ah, fuck it, I fired off a round into his arm. “He’ll find out when he comes to.”
I turned to Kevin. “Shit man, I can’t believe I’ve taken all the fun from your first revenge shooting for myself. Get your ass over here you knucklehead.” Kevin walked over to me and I passed him my gun. “You ever fired a gun before?”
Kevin shook his head.
“Dickbag #2, stand the fuck up,” I ordered. When he wouldn’t stand I stomped over and lifted him up, propping him back into his chair as he continued to carry on like being shot hurts that fucking bad. “I wonder if your parents know their son has a fucking vagina,” I muttered, making my way back over to Kevin.
“Okay, now you want to aim for his shin.” I stood behind Kevin and adjusted his hand on the gun. I lifted his arm so he was properly aimed at the target. “Stay exactly where you are,” I warned the Dickbag. “If you move even an inch he could easily hit you in the chest or head. That inch could mean the difference between an ouchie he’s hurt, and an oopsie, he’s dead.”
He whimpered like an injured puppy. “Who the fuck is raising you kids these days? Is everyone scared shitless? Ya’ll should be fucking embarrassed. I’m going to write a strongly worded letter to our congressman regarding the massive vagina problem our youth is facing.”
“What if I miss?”
I shrugged. “Then he’s dead. Then the other two gotta go because you know, no witnesses left behind and all.”
“No, please. I’m sorry. Wait!” The dickbag cried, but it was too late for begging.
Kevin pulled the trigger.
*****
“I can’t believe you fell back in the sand on your ass!” I whispered, not wanting to wake Dre or Bo as I unrolled the hose from the holder on the side of the house.
Kevin’s shot had hit sand about four seconds before he did. We’d left the three dickbags alive but not before warning them that next time that wouldn’t be the case.
“I told you I never fired a gun before,” Kevin muttered.
“That’s all right, I think the first time I fired one I did the same thing except I fell into a thick thatch of sand spurs,” I said.
“Really?” Kevin asked, sounding hopeful.