A Walk in the Park--Larry Stylinson

FACING THE THUGS

It was inevitable that it would happen sooner or later.

Harry and Louis were walking the dogs. Or rather, Louis walked the dogs, and Harry stayed a step or two behind. A blue classic Camaro rumbled by very slowly, the souped up engine purring, and then roaring as the driver revved it up. Louis slowly raised his eyes, fully knowing who it was before he even saw the car.

Joe. Norman and Doug were also in the car. Louis gave them a long, hard look that said "don't fuck with me," and he continued walking toward the dog park.

Duke, the German Shepherd, growled softly at the car. "Good dog," Louis said to the animal.

"Ignore them," said Harry.

"We can't ignore 'em forever, Haz. Sooner or later we'll have to face 'em again. We may not want to fight, but it looks like they still do. And it's three to two, which is really bloody cowardly on their parts."

They got to the dog park, the blue Camaro passing by every few minutes. Clockwork band (or what was left of it) was making sure they kept Louis and Harry in sight. They threw a few insults out of the window, but Harry and Louis walked on, with Louis seething every step of the way, but nevertheless keeping his mouth shut; taking the high road.

When they got to the dog park, Louis turned the dogs loose into the enclosure and came out to be with Harry. Today he wasn't going to leave Harry out there alone for a second. They were standing there when the Camaro came by for about the fifth time.

"Tonight, just after dark. In that area over there," Joe pointed out of his window toward the small park area next to the dog park where Louis and Harry had had sandwiches a few weeks ago.

"Will you lay the hell off, Joe?" Louis sputtered, just about at the end of his patience. "Leave Harry, leave us alone. Move on with your life and do sommat useful."

Joe just laughed. "Faggots. We'll be here. And you better be too," and with that, he stomped on the gas and was off, his tires spinning and squealing.

The name calling boiled Louis' blood. An end had to be put to this.

"Lou, I'm sorry. This nightmare just won't end," Harry looked so regretful.

"They're punks, I tell ya! We can take 'em and end this once and for all."

"No, Lou! There's three of them, and only two of us!"

"So? You and I have worked on your fight moves most nights for weeks now. We can handle the three of 'em."

Harry's eyes bugged.

"I'm serious, Haz. We can. If the others fight like Joe does . . . "

"I don't know how they fight, but I know we'll be in danger."

"No we won't. It'll be a cake walk for us to take 'em down."

Harry didn't look so sure, and Louis knew he'd have to convince him in just a few short hours. Harry would have to be confident, and use the skills Louis had taught him. If he did, Louis was certain it would only last a few minutes at most.

"Look Harry. I don't want to fight 'em any more than you do, but they're forcin' us into it. Every time they see us in public they'll taunt us. If this will end it for good . . ."

"You're right," agreed Harry. "But I just don't seem to stop causin' trouble in your life."

"Look, I knew how they were when I asked you to live with me. I didn't go into this blind. I knew they'd be back. I could've washed me hands of you then. But I didn't. Doesn't that illustrate to you that your friendship is way more important than some wimpy bullies? They're all talk, Haz. They want to make themselves look tough. They have to be stopped. And now. Tonight isn't too soon for me. We'll have to go to Mr. Hammond's tomorrow night or sommat. This can't be put off."