My Dream Boyfriend... Not In My Fathers Eyes....

18. My Dream Boyfriend... Not In My Fathers Eyes....

Chapter 18

I looked at my list and realized that some people weren’t there.  So, I quickly wrote down “officers who knew what my dad did- burn to death”.  Then I remembered that I didn’t know exactly who was friends with my father…

And idea came into my mind.  Call Kirk Gaston.  He was the cop who hated my dad.  He would tell me, right?  I shuffled through my purse until I found the little card he had given me.  I pulled out my phone and dialed the number.  After about four rings, a voice answered the phone.  “Hello, this is Kirk Gaston.” 

“Hello, this is Deirdra Smallders.  You came to my house to ask about my brother Gage?  You said to call you if anything happens?”

“Right.  What happened?”  He asked.

“Well, nothing happened, but I was wondering if you could do me a favor…  It’s not a big favor or anything, just a small one.  But it’s kind of important.”  I informed him.

“What is it?”

“Okay.  So…  My dad died.”  I felt myself tear up.  My voice cracked.  “And I was wondering if you could give me his friend’s names who were police officers?  I need to get in contact with them and tell them when the visitation and funeral is.”

“I could just tell them for you…”  He said slowly.

“Oh no!  No.  Um, truth is, I’m having a little get together for his friends, just for his friends, and well, he had this one friend that he only pretended to like.  And, I don’t exactly remember his name.  So, if you told me the names, I could possibly remember.”  I went on.

“Oh. Well, if you insist.  Okay, so there was Erik Johnson, Tucker Mannings, Leo Calaway, and Frank Ford.”

“Oh, thank you.”  I laughed.  “Do you possibly know their numbers?  And, I’m sorry.  I know you didn’t really like my dad, but I appreciate you doing this for me.” 

“You’re welcome.  And, just let me check the records…  Okay, here they are…”  He quickly told me the numbers and I wrote all of the down, along with the names.

“Thanks you Kirk.  Well, I have to get busy.  Goodbye.”

“You’re welcome, Deirdra.  Goodbye.”  Then the line disconnected. 

Wow.  I’m a pretty great actress.  I laughed at myself.

I walked out of my room, and saw that Petunia and Gage were passed out on the couch.  I snuck out of the house, and ran to an old warehouse that no one owned.  I laughed.  This was the perfect place.  I took out my phone and my list and dialed the first number, which belonged to Erik Johnson.  He answered on the second ring.  “Hello?”  His voice was rough and slurred.  He was drunk.

“Hello, this is Deirdra Smallders.  I’m Harold Smallders daughter.  I’m throwing a little get-together for all of his friends.  You were one of them.  I was just wondering if you wanted to go…?”

“Harold…”  His voice cracked.  “Of course I’ll go.  He was my best friend.” 

“Okay.  It’s tomorrow at 8 p.m.  Just go to the old warehouse by the backroads.  You know it?”

“Yeah, I know it.  I’ll be there.”  I heard him take a drink of something. 

“Okay.  You don’t have to bring anything, unless you want to.  Bye.”  Then I hung up, and dialed Tucker Mannings number.  He answered on the first ring.  “Hello, Tucker Mannings?”  He made a sound.  “This is Deirdra Smallders…”

After I called all of them, which they all agreed, I walked back to Petunia’s house.  I got yelled at again, but this time only by Gage.  I took it, yelled back, and then went to bed. 

The next day, I got up and it was almost two in the afternoon.  I grimaced and got up.  Only six more hours…  I laughed and got myself to look good, even though I wasn’t good on the inside.  My stomach hurt, and it wasn’t like just a stomach ache.  It felt like I was sick. 

Then I felt the puke rise up into my throat.  I ran to the bathroom and started hurling into the toilet.  I puked, and dry heaved.  I had never been drunk before, so I didn’t know how bad dry heaving hurt.  It was like puking up air.  It was worse than gagging.  After I was done, I quickly washed my mouth out and took a shower. 

When I got out, it was 3:30 p.m.  Four and a half more hours. 

I wasted my day doing pointless things, like washing clean clothes, watching Jersey Shore, thinking horrible thoughts, and eating chicken noodle soup because I was sick. 

At 7:45, I told Petunia that I was going out, and before she could protest, I was out the door.  I skipped to the warehouse, and for some reason I was happy.  Jesus, I’m turning into a first class psycho.  I walked into the warehouse and grabbed the shovel.  From there, I waited.  When the first person walked in, I hit them in the head with the shovel.  I did the same for the rest.  Then, once they were all there, I sat the up on separate chairs and tied the all together.  I grabbed the gasoline tank and poured it all over their unconscious bodies.  When they woke up, they would be in a real big surprise.

It was almost 9:30 when they all awoke.  I got up from my seat on the floor and poured even more gasoline on them.  They yelled in panic, and I laughed.

“Why are you screaming?  I haven’t even hurt you yet.”  Then they started crying, giving me the excuse, ‘I have a family!’

“If you have family, why didn’t you stop my father from doing all those fucked up things to Gage?  Gage is my family.  And you guys took him away from me, so I’m going to take you guys away from your family.”   I took a match out of my pocket.  They started sobbing even more.  “Oh, don’t cry.  I’m not going to kill you.”  I informed them.  “You’re going to kill yourself.  I poured the gasoline all around them, so there wasn’t a dry spot at least two feet from the chairs.  Then, I placed a Zippo lighter in Frank’s sweaty hand.  It’s the type of lighter where when you light it, it stays lit unless you close the top on it.  Then I lit it.  He gasped and closed his eyes.

“Now, Frank, there are four lives in your hands.  Do you want to drop the lighter, or hold onto it?”

“H-hold onto it.”  He sobbed.

“Good pick, but ask yourself the question, “do you think that I would give you the choice?”  Now what did you come up with?” 

“You will let me pick…?” 

“Wrong-o, Buddy.  I’m going to continuously torture you until you drop the lighter, which makes you and all of your friend’s burn to death.”  Then I slapped him.  He gasped and held on tightly to the lighter.  I punched him in the face, and he held on.  I laughed.  “Good, good.”  Then I cut his face.  He cried out in pain, but held onto the Zippo. 

After about 15 minutes of continuously slapping him, I had enough.  He hadn’t dropped the lighter yet, and I was getting mad.  So, I grabbed the gun that my sperm donor had given me.  I snatched the lighter from him and flipped it shut. Then I shot him in the leg.  I gave the lighter to Leo, who instantly started crying.  “You know the game.”  I slapped him and he did nothing.  I tortured him and finally, he dropped the lighter.

I hopped away before the flames got me, but I still got burnt, just a little. 

I watched as they yelled and screamed in pain.  I felt a sense of accomplishment, and I smiled.  After they were dead, I left and skipped home.  I quickly took another shower, and got into bed.  It was almost 10 p.m.

Hopefully Ray would be proud of me…

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Hopefully its a bit longer for you guys. Thanks for reading!