20: Predator Vision

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"Hey Jimmy its your dad, if you get this can you give me a ring?" Michael said into his phone while standing in the doorway of the trailer

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"Hey Jimmy its your dad, if you get this can you give me a ring?" Michael said into his phone while standing in the doorway of the trailer. Patricia ironed clothes while Trevor poured gasoline into a plastic cup at the counter. I watched from the couch where I sat with my knees to my chest. If I had laser vision, Michael's head would be melted for I was jealous he got to use his phone and I didn't. Just because it's easily traceable.

"Will you tell your mom too? And Tracey? Please son." Michael still hadn't noticed my tattoo since I kept a t shirt on instead of a bikini top. It's been a week or so now.

"Your daddy's been a bad boy. Please son." Trevor blubbered while swishing the gas around in the cup. "You want a sniff?" He offered the cup to Michael, who stepped out of the doorway.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" Michael said.

Trevor inhaled the cup. "Oh!" He exclaimed as he stumbled around. "Now see the way I see it this country was built by and for gasoline. I'm just doing my patriotic duty by yknow, doing this stuff." He took another sniff. "Oh man. It's cheap. But it's good."

Patricia sighed and took the cup from Trevor and slapped his cheek. "Gasolina, no." She pointed a finger in his face.

Michael and I laughed at Trevor. "Wow. Sorry Mrs. M... Jesus." Trevor stepped over to the fridge. He gave me a look that made me wanna drop my pants right then and there.

"Mikey want a beer? Oh shit I'm sorry I don't have any low carb." He said sarcastically.

"Ah fuck you." Michael said. Trevor opened a beer and tossed it at Michael.

"So where did you two go, when you went out. You and your boyfriend?" Michael leaned on the counter. Trevor walked back by Michael and leaned next to him.

"Why do you care?"

"I don't care. Just trying to conversate." Michael took a drink.

"Well I was out putting people in their place." Trevor drank as well. I began to pick at my nails.

"Ah, you know there's more to this gig than just going crazy all the time... killing everyone in sight."

"Just because I like the life and you feel guilty about it doesn't make you any more of a man than me. And you know what? Deep down I know you believe the bullshit. The picket fence and the happy endings."

"And your street philosopher bullshit, that's gotten you real far. Oh yeah. You've achieved perfect balance."

"Balance? You've gone. Man ten years in the sun...your brain has melted. You-you say words that have no meaning. What is balance, huh? Huh? That I only fucking kill on the weekends? So Monday, Wednesdays and Fridays I'm doing yoga and meditation. Tuesdays and Thursdays hookers and sticking up joints, huh? You call me mad? Fuck compared to you in the sanest mother fucker I know." Michael started laughing sarcastically.

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