EASY PICKINGS

EASY PICKINGS (#TNTHorrorContest)

A bug flew into his mouth as Trevor chomped down on a gumball.

"Why can't I have a piece?" Rascal whined.

Just like a bitch: always bitching.

Rascal's real name was Pasquale, but Trevor didn't care for all that Spanish shit or whatever it was. He liked the nickname he'd given his sidekick just fine.

He glared down his nose at the four-foot-nothing seventh grader. Everything about Rascal repulsed him, from the boy's slick black hair and neatly plucked eyebrows to his concave chest and pretty girl face. So smooth, too pretty, barely a boy. Not a man. Not like Trevor.

"Because you didn't earn it." He grimaced as he pulled the insect from his mouth. Coated in saliva, the fly slid off his tongue without resistance. Trevor placed it delicately on his palm. He checked it for signs of life. The bug twitched. Trevor smiled.

He tore off the insect's wings, then took his time plucking the fly's legs, his stubby fingers fumbling with the slick exoskeleton. When he had finished tormenting the insect, Trevor flicked it off his palm and wiped his hands on his jeans.

His attention returned to his steadfast lackey, a boy who'd stuck by Trevor despite all the punishment dished out to him. Why? Probably 'cause he's a loser without any friends.

Trevor laughed. He swatted Rascal's arm. "Are you ever going to earn your keep? I already got three full bags of candy. What did you get? Nothing. That one kid almost got away, and where were you?"

Trevor cupped his hand around his crotch, a man's crotch, not that peach fuzz-covered gummy worm Rascal probably had tucked in his trousers. "Standing around with your dick in your hands." He shook his head. "Fucking pussy."

Share his loot with Rascal? The notion brought with it a foul taste. Why should he share his candy with anyone? Trevor had taken it. Trevor had earned it.

At six feet tall and over two hundred pounds, a third of which was muscle, Trevor considered himself both the brains and brawn of their operation. Now in his second year of eighth grade, he was older and wiser than Rascal. Trevor couldn't help that he was bigger than all the other kids at school. So what if he took what he wanted? Who could do a damn thing about it? Who could challenge his reign as king of South Middleton Junior High? In a world where might equaled right, Trevor enjoyed a fine distinction: he was always right.

Rascal was just another punk looking for a handout. Trevor had shaken down those trick-or-treaters, forced them to hand over their precious cargo. Rascal hadn't done shit. Trevor was beginning to wonder why he even let the little shit stain hang around.

"Get your own fucking candy." He pushed Rascal. The smaller boy fell on his ass. Trevor laughed.

Rascal stood and brushed the dirt from his bottom. "Fine," he said, face glowing an apple red, pride obviously hurting. That was the part Trevor liked best.

"Let me grab the next one."

Trevor grinned. "Sure. I think I saw a few princesses go down Ryker Street. You might be able to handle one of them, if they don't have their periods."

"You have your period," Rascal murmured.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

"That's what I thought."

Trevor pulled a candy bar from a pillow case that had pumpkin patches sewn on it. Some kid's mom had probably spent a lot of time making it for her child. That made his possession of it all the sweeter.