Some Are Sicker Than Others

by Andrew Seaward

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the bottle then set it on the desk right beneath his little, green banker’s lamp. Then, he pulled out his glass pipe and cheap, plastic lighter and took out one of the rocks and placed it on the end. As he mashed down the flint, the flame began to flicker and the rock started to sizzle like canola oil on a frying pan. He leaned forward and sucked in the vapors and almost immediately, the pain just melted away. His hands stopped shaking, his knee stopped throbbing, and the tentacles around his neck uncoiled their grip. Yes, that’s it…that was all he needed…just one good, solid hit.

  He set down the pipe and folded his hands behind him then leaned back in his chair and stared out at the Sports Illustrated swimsuit calendar hanging on the wall by the doorway. The model in the picture was tall and blonde with a pair of diamond hard nipples piercing through the fabric of her skinny string bikini. She held a slight resemblance to his middle blocker, Sarah, who was only eighteen, but looked like she was in her late twenties, with juicy breasts the size of watermelons and an ass so tight you could break your dick off in it.

  He closed his eyes and thought about Sarah bouncing up to the net in that tight, black spandex. Damn, she was so strong, so tall and powerful…abs so tight you could actually see the muscles flexing. He began to feel movement down in his crotch area as the blood in his head drained down to his dick. He had a brilliant idea. He opened his eyes and pulled his chair forward then hit the power button on his computer. The monitor flashed blue and the processor began groaning as the little windows icon started running across the screen. A couple seconds later, his desktop appeared before him, a picture of Larry and his two daughters as the background on his screen. God damnit, he needed to change that. He couldn’t deal with them looking at him right now.

  He quickly grabbed the mouse and double-clicked My Documents, which brought up a folder filled with all sorts of files. He scrolled to the bottom to a file titled Game Videos and double-clicked it. “Alright, let’s see what we got here.” He scrolled through the selection and eventually landed on the one that he was looking for—Crusaders vs Spartans_2000. Ah yes, this was a good one. He double-clicked the file, which brought up the media player, then hit the play button and turned up the volume. As the video came on, he stood up from the chair and pushed down his khakis. Alright, let’s go…let’s get this party started…come on you little cock tease…smile at the fucking camera.

  He sat back down and hunched forward, pulled out his dick and stared at the monitor. The camera was zoomed in on Sarah’s nipples, which were poking through her sweat-soaked green and gold Catholic High Crusader’s uniform. She was almost six feet tall with a long, blond, braided ponytail that swung wildly like a whip as she dove for the volleyball. Her shirt was tied up just above her belly button so that every time she lifted her arms to block you could actually see the outline of her ribs. “Jesus,” Dave mumbled, as he hunched forward, pumping and pulling his now fully erect member. What he’d do for ten minutes alone with her. He’d give up his house, his car, all his savings, just to get in between those legs and wrap them around his torso.

  He grabbed the desk and pulled himself closer, then got rid of the glare by tilting the monitor. He took the mouse and pushed up the little green volume button until it sounded like the girls were right there in the room, grunting in his eardrum. “Yeah…come on you bitch…give it to me…make me cum you filthy little animal.” He clenched his teeth and hunched as far as he could forward as he thought about jamming his dick in between those young, perky titties. Yeah, he was almost there. He could feel it coming, like a fucking torpedo being shot from his dick hole. He grunted and gasped, pulling harder and harder, sweat like a sprinkler splashing down on the keyboard. “Yeah, come on you dirty whore. Give it to me. Make me cum you fucking cock tease.”

  Then it came, like a New Year’s Eve party popper—a wad of cum shot out all over the screen. “Ah fuck.” He closed his eyes and curled his toes inward, his body shaking and convulsing like he was having a seizure. “Ahh. Jesus Christ.”

  Once he was done, he just sat there for a moment, taking in deep swallows of the crack-laden oxygen. As he opened his eyes, he glanced up at the monitor—his cum looked like vanilla yogurt dripping down Sarah’s body. He laughed to himself and nodded. Take that you fucking cock tease. Then, he got up from the desk and looked around the office for something that he could wipe his hands off with. But, there was nothing there so he reached down and pulled off his sock and used it as a jizz rag to wipe off the monitor. The cum was sticky and wet against his fingers and unfortunately, it didn’t make for very good absorption. He soaked up as much as he could then tossed the sock into the wastebasket and reached down by his ankles and pulled up his khakis.

  As he zipped up his zipper and buttoned his button, he felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. What the hell? He reached down and jammed his hand into his pocket, then pulled out the phone and looked at the display. It was Cheryl. What the hell did she want? He thought he was done with her today. Guess not.

  He set the phone down on the desk then tucked in his shirt and buckled his buckle and sat back in the chair. He hit the stop button on the media player, closed out all his folders, and hit the power button on the monitor. Just then, the phone started buzzing again, vibrating on his desk like one of those table pagers they give you at a Ruby Tuesday’s. “God damnit.” He grabbed the phone and flipped it open and jammed the receiver against his ear. “Hello?”

  “Dave?”

  “Yes?”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at school. Where do you think?”

  “Please don’t be mouthy.”

  “I’m not being mouthy.”

  “Yes you are.”

  “Jesus Christ Cheryl, what do you want? I’m really busy here.”

  “I need you to do me a favor.”

  “Aw Christ, what now?”

  “I need you to pick Larry up from Morningstar.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because I can’t do it today. I got an emergency call from one of my clients and I have to run down to Denver for a couple of hours.”

  “Cheryl, I can’t take off work. I got like a million things to do before the match tonight.”

  “Please Dave, don’t argue with me. I really need your help on this one.”

  Dave wedged the phone between his ear and shoulder then bent down and began tying his shoelaces. “Well, what am I supposed to do with him? I can’t watch him.”

  “You don’t have to. My sister’s going to watch him. You can drop him off there.”

  “Your sister’s? What? Out in Broomfield?”

  “Yes.”

  “Jesus, Cheryl. I don’t have time for that. I gotta pack up the school bus.”

  “Please Dave, it won’t take long. He gets out early today. You can do it on your lunch break.”

  “Aw for Christ’s sake.”

  “Please Dave, I never ask you for anything.”

  Dave slammed his elbows on the desk and started rubbing his forehead. “Alright, well what if I just take him up there with me?”

  “Where? To the volleyball game?”

  “Yeah, it’d be good for him. Get him out of the house for a change.”

  “No, Dave, absolutely not.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want him riding around with you in that school bus.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not safe, alright?”

  “Aw for Christ’s sake, Cheryl. He’s not a little kid anymore. He’s almost a teenager. When are you gonna stop babying him?”

  “It’s not him I’m worried about.”

  “Oh this again?”

  “I don’t trust you, Dave. I don’t trust you behind the wheel of that school bus. You’re not well. You’re sick.”

  “I’m not sick, Cheryl. I’m perfectly fine.”

  “You are definitely not fine, Dave. Something is very wrong with you.”
>
  “Well, then why even call me? Huh? Why not have your sister pick him up?”

  “She can’t. She’s stuck at the house waiting for the carpet people.”

  “Carpet people? What? Is she getting her carpets cleaned?”

  “Yes.”

  “That figures.”

  “Look Dave, just promise me you’ll take him directly to my sister’s. That means no stopping for hamburgers or ice cream.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “Yes, I promise. Jesus!”

  He hit the end button and shoved the phone back into his pocket then stood up from the desk and pulled on his jacket. He checked the clock. Shit, it was almost eleven-thirty. By the time he got back from Broomfield it would almost be twelve-thirty. How was he gonna do this? How was he gonna find time to load up the school bus? He still had to pack up the balls and pack up the coolers, fill up the gas and check the tires. God damn her. She always did this. She always treated him like he was an idiot. If she’d just trust him for once and let Larry come with him then there wouldn’t be a god damn problem. There was no way he was gonna make it. He’d be lucky if he even got a chance to sit down and eat a fucking sandwich.

  He reached across the desk and grabbed his pipe, lighter, and little plastic bottle and, in one sweeping motion, brushed them all into the bottom desk drawer on top of the ungraded earth science midterms. Alright, he could do this. He was gonna have to drive like a maniac and hope he didn’t get pulled over. He took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead then walked across the office and flipped off the light switch.

  Chapter 7

  Larry

  A HALF hour later, Dave was in his Volkswagen flying down Broadway, heading south towards Larry’s school on Table Mesa Drive in South Boulder. He had the windows rolled down and the radio blaring and was singing along to Crazy Train by Ozzy Osbourne. But he was starting to get hungry. He hadn’t had anything to eat all day except that bagel and coffee. He reached across the passenger seat and dug into his little blue gym bag then pulled out the bottle of Kentucky straight bourbon. He looked out both windows to make sure there was no one beside him then twisted off the cap and turned up the bottle. He coughed and gagged as the bourbon slithered into his stomach, causing his throat to pulsate and his eyes to water, but it felt so damn good that he wiped his mouth and took another, then another and another and another and another. When he was satisfied, he twisted the cap back on the bottle and safely tucked it back inside his little, blue gym bag. He pulled a shirt over it to hide the label then closed the bag and zipped up the zipper. Alright, good, great, grand, wonderful…he was ready to pick up Larry and finish off this nightmare. He flipped on his turn signal and swerved across the highway, almost colliding with a minivan that was hiding in his right blind spot. The woman in the van laid on the horn and threw up her hands in a “what the fuck?” gesture, mouthing something at Dave as he flew right by her.

  “Woops. Sorry.” Dave said, sticking his hand out the window, waving and laughing at just how close he came to hitting her. “Sorry you’re such a bitch. Ha ha ha.” He pulled his hand back in the window then eased on the brake and took a left onto Table Mesa.

  Larry’s school was on the corner of Table Mesa and Tantra safely tucked away inside a boutique shopping center. There was a crowd of children and teachers waiting on the curb of a brick-lined, semi-circle driveway that was jam-packed with a procession of Jaguars and Mercedes. Christ, look at these people, a bunch of rich assholes sipping on their lattes and chatting on their cell phones. Bet they never thought their kids would end up at this place—an overpriced, under-resourced daycare for the mentally challenged. Probably thought little Johnny was gonna grow up to be a stock broker, just like daddy. Sorry folks, guess that wasn’t what the universe had in store for little Johnny. Hell, the kid would be lucky if he got a job as a fucking bus boy.

  Dave shook his head in disgust as he put on his turn signal then got behind the last car in the line. It took an eternity, but he finally got to the front of the driveway, then turned down the volume and strained his eyeballs. Come on, where in the hell was he? Where was this kid? Where was he hiding? Oh wait—was that him, behind the flag pole, standing next to that big black kid that looked like fat Albert? Yeah, it was, but what the hell was he wearing? Black jean shorts and a tie-dye t-shirt with bright yellow socks pulled all the way up to his kneecaps? Jesus, why did Cheryl dress him like that? Was she trying to make him look like a retard?

  Dave leaned across the center console, honked the horn a few times, and waved out the window. “Yo Larry! Over here!”

  The kid cocked his head and bent his neck forward, like a confused moose standing at the intersection of a busy highway.

  He honked a few more times. “Larry! Come on! It’s me, daddy!”

  “Daddy?”

  “Yes, it’s me. Get your ass over here. Come on, we’re late.”

  The kid bent down and grabbed his Blue’s Clues book bag then slung it over his shoulder and waved goodbye to his friends. He lowered his head and bent his body forward and took off running like a rhinoceros charging a safari van. A teacher shouted after him, “slow down Larry!” to which the kid slammed on the brakes and curled his mouth into a menacing grin. He power-walked the last couple of yards with his hands pinned by his kneecaps like a kid at a swimming pool who’d just gotten the whistle blown at him by the lifeguard. When he got to the car, he flung the passenger door open then threw his book bag in the back and hopped in the passenger seat.

  “Daddy!” he screamed, as he threw his pudgy arms around his father and buried his forehead against his shoulder. “Where’s mommy?”

  “Mommy’s not here today. It’s just gonna be you and me kiddo.”

  “Weally?”

  “Yep. Really.”

  “Hooway!”

  “Hooray,” Dave said, as he checked his rearview mirror and slowly edged back out into the procession of vehicles. “Hey Larry, would you mind buckling your seat belt for me, buddy?”

  The kid nodded and pulled the belt over his chubby belly then quickly snapped it into the buckle. “I did it,” he said, smiling up at his father, drool dripping onto his tie-dye t-shirt.

  “Good job.”

  “What about you, daddy?”

  “What about me?”

  “You don’t have your buckle.”

  Dave sighed as he flipped on his turn signal then took a right towards the ramp for the freeway. “I don’t need one,” he said.

  “How come?”

  “Because.”

  “Because why?”

  “Because I just don’t god damnit!”

  The kid frowned as though the answer didn’t suffice him, but then shrugged his shoulders and unzipped his book bag. “Where we going?” he said, as he dug into his book bag and pulled out a couple crayons and his Blue’s Clues coloring book.

  Dave checked the clock. It was nearly twelve-thirty. There was no way in hell they could make it out to Cheryl’s sister’s. Fuck it. If she was gonna make him drive all around town running errands then he was gonna do it on his terms, not hers. She couldn’t tell him what to do. She didn’t own him. He was Larry’s parent too. He knew what the kid needed better than she did. And what the kid didn’t need was to be stuck in some dingy house in Broomfield watching Cheryl’s slutty sister flirt with the carpet people. What he needed was to spend some quality time with his father and be outdoors—have a god damn adventure. Just because the kid was mentally challenged didn’t mean he also had to be a lazy, couch potato. If Dave had his way, he’d transform Larry into a runner. Three years time, he could have the kid in a good enough shape to compete in the Special Olympics.

  Dave smiled and turned towards Larry. “Say kiddo, how’d you like to come with daddy up to the mountains?”

  The kid slammed down his crayons and looked up at his father, a grin so wide it seemed to stretch from earlobe to earlobe. “Weally?”

  “Yeah. Reall
y.”

  “Oh. That would be awesome.”

  “Alright then.” Dave switched lanes and made a quick u-turn then took a right onto Broadway back towards the high school. “It looks like that’s what we’re doing.”

  “Hooway!” The kid threw up his hands and started clapping, his fat belly bouncing up and down across his seat belt. “Are we gonna go to O’Weilley’s?”

  O’Reilley’s? That was a shitty pub up around Nederland, near the banks of the Barker Reservoir. But how did Larry know about that? He never took him there, did he?

  “Larry, how do you know about O’Reilley’s?”

  The kid looked up at Dave with a confused expression. “Lath night…we did O’Weilley’s.”

  “We did?”

  “Yeah. We pwayed chuckle board.”

  “Chuckle board? You mean shuffle board?”

  “Yeah. Chuckle board.” The kid threw up his hand and started cheering, pumping his fist in a repetitive motion. “Chuckle board! Chuckle board! Chuckle board!”

  Dave looked at the kid. What the hell was he talking about? They didn’t play shuffleboard last night, did they? Shit—why couldn’t he remember? Why was everything last night so damn blurry? If that’s where they were then how’d they get there? He didn’t remember driving. Did they take the Volkswagen? How long were they there? “Shit.” He clenched his fist and pounded against the steering wheel, making the pennies in the ashtray bounce around like Mexican jumping beans.

  “Daddy?” Larry said, looking up at him with a look of concern on his chubby moon pie of a face.

  “What?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, Larry, I’m fine, just—no more talking, okay? It’s quiet time. Daddy needs to concentrate.”

  The kid shrugged and went back to his coloring book, as Dave slammed down the accelerator and shifted into the outer left lane. He didn’t have time to think about yesterday. Whatever happened last night happened, and there was nothing he could do about it now. It was best to just keep calm and try to stay focused. There were still a million things to do to get ready for the big match tonight.