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Disclaimer:
Reads: heads up for foul language, violence, and drug use


"Look, if you're planning on killing me and leaving my body out here in the middle of wherever the fuck we are then there's not much I can do to stop you, but I want you to keep one thing in mind," I threw an empty can out the window, "I may end up dead, but you'll be leaving this fucking truck out here with me. You'll be stumbling your blind ass out of here on foot," I grabbed another beer from the case on the floorboard, "You make any fucked up move and, I swear to God, the last thing I'm gonna do before I die is gouge your fucking eyes out. I'll be digging for your fucking brain with these thumbs."
He chuckled and held his beer out towards me as if to say 'cheers'.

"You got it! You'll get by just fine in prison," he said with a big, stupid grin on his big, stupid mug.

He still wasn't answering me straight. He was referring back to our conversation from earlier. I needed more beer to deal with this fucking shit.

When we were still back on the main streets, we were driving around drinking beers and shooting the shit. I learned that this guy had just recently been released after a ten year bid. A third of his life was spent in a cage. He was thoroughly institutionalized and I hadn't even begun to realize the full extent of it.

Cruising the streets of some random south Jersey shithole, he told me about the incident that got him put behind bars. He had almost killed a police officer with a broken bottle to the throat. Cops don't like cop-killers, even failed cop-killers.

I reciprocated by telling him about a couple of my previous tangles with the boys in blue, including a little misunderstanding that had resulted in a robbery charge which was still pending. I had never served time before. Waiting in holding cells and drunk tanks isn't the same as actual prison, so I was curious to get some survival tips from this seasoned pro.

"The first and most important thing you need to need to do is get in a fight," he said,"As soon as you get the chance, the first or second day, you pick someone out, anyone you want, it doesn't matter, you just go at him and go all fucking out. Just try to fuck him up good. But really though, it doesn't even matter if you win or not. You can get your ass kicked and thats fine. You just gotta make sure you fight like hell and make sure you do it where lots of people will see it happen. The key thing is that people SEE it. You'll get put in solitary, but when you get out, you'll be all set because then the predators will be more likely to pass you by. See, anyone who is looking for a victim is gonna remember that you're not afraid to fight so they're gonna pick an easier target, one that won't put up a fuss. Why fight someone when their are others who'll just give in to intimidation or go with less struggle, ya know?"

The sun was setting. The conversation went along like that and the budweisers we got at the packie back by the motel were going down fast. We seemed to be driving around town aimlessly, but I didn't care. The beer was cheap and the entertainment even cheaper, not to mention informative, in a potential-convict-to-be kind of way.

I suddenly noticed a low hanging tree branch scrape past my open window and that's when I realized that my new friend actually had some sort of destination in mind . Somehow I hadn't noticed the change in scenery. At some point we had turned off onto some dirt road. It was getting bumpier, more narrow and most definitely farther from anyone who could hear any cries for help.

My stomach didn't start to knot up until after asking "where the fuck are we going??" for the fourth or fifth time.

"Don't worry about it"

"Just wait"

"You'll see"

Blank stare.

Knowing laughter.

Dead silence.

I needed more beer to deal with this fucking shit...

Author's Note:
Just a start here, obviously. I've intentionally held back a lot of details on "him" and other aspects. I'm trying to decide if I should proceed or rework the tenses and whatnot first. Eitherway, someone take a shot at me, please, I can take it. I'm a big boy. 8 )



------
"Too weird to live, too rare to die..."



Comments

The following comments are for "BreakIron"
by yadig

You want it, you got it
You wanted criticism so some you shall get, unfortunately (or should I say fortunately?) there isn't much to give. BreakIron was good, it caught my attention from the get go. It was written very well and I'm intrigued as to where this story is going. I'm tempted to say that there's too much cursing, but . . . nah, there isn't. From the perspective that it's told, it's all necessary and it fits his personality perfectly. I'm curious as to what the title means but I'm pretty sure that you're getting to that. The way you ended it was actually pretty funny and the shortened sentences gave us insight to the panic that the main character is feeling. I enjoyed it and I'm sure others will too. I'm eager to read more.

Until then . . .

The Sage

( Posted by: TheGreatSage [Member] On: October 13, 2005 )

On BreakIron part 1
I like it so far.

P7 has a repeat of "need to" in the first line. Budweiser needs a capital B.

Good story.

~ John

( Posted by: Flonigus [Member] On: October 13, 2005 )





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