17 Things TDBID - Part 6

We got up early that morning, surrounded by a bunch of bushes in an open field on the side of the highway. Brittany was feeling the effects of her previous night’s decisions, and so was I, in a way. I woke up with a smile on my face for the first time in a long time. I had dreamt that night, about Brittany and I doing this forever. I had dreamt of us just travelling everywhere and doing whatever the hell we wanted, all the time. I dreamt us living this lifestyle, over and over, in a never-ending cycle of euphoric dreams. But I also woke up to the realization that this wouldn’t last forever. That’s why our 72 hours journey is going to end like it is. It’s impossible to keep this on forever, although, in a twisted sense, my legend will certainly accomplish that seemingly impossible feat in itself.

We headed downwards on the highway, and Brit rested her head on my shoulder while the wind blew at us at a rapid pace. I put my arm around her and drove with one hand, often swerving over to the side of the road. I didn’t really care, although a fiery car wreck is not exactly the way I had envisioned to go. I had to keep going, this was just too good to end already. We still had awhile to go.

I made a sharp right-hand turn onto a side street, now about 100 km’s outside of my hometown. I had a very crucial stop to make, as it was circled with a smiley face on my list. Brit had even drawn a special rabbit with a knife next to it, showing me exactly how important this stop was to the both of us. She’s quite the artist, as there was just a shade of red on the end of the knife too. God, I love her.

We pulled up to a fairly nice house. It looked like you’re average, run-of-the-mill, white-collar home. It even had a white picket fence. I mean, you just couldn’t help but look at it and say it was the normal house you’d see on a TV sitcom. The only thing is, I despise one of those things. No, not sitcoms. Normalcy. I despise it with every ounce of blood running through my veins, as it stands for everything I never had. Nor, will I ever have.

I parked the car, when I noticed something strange. There were people in the house. I had not expected this, for it’s a weekday, and Coach Stevens should be at school. It looks like his wife has stayed home too. That’s quite a shame, they’re about to wish they had gone to work, like “normal” people do.

Brit and I grabbed the essentials from the back seat. Two baseball bats, the gun, and more matches. I gave Brittany the signal, and we headed to the backyard. From then on in, it was a war. Just like coach said.

You see, I never liked Coach Stevens. He always had the habit of crushing my dreams, and making me feel as hopeless as I possibly could. He never believed I had any true talent, and he never put me on the field in key situations. He always used to tell me, “Son, you’ve gotta work hard… it’s a war out there, and you’re un-armed.” Oh, is that so, Coach? Well, I’d like to think I’ve worked pretty damn hard in the off season, and that I’m fairly well armed these days. This war, this battlefield, you speak of Coach? I’m ready and willing to enter it. I just hope you are to.

I fired shots through the living room window, and I heard screams coming from his wife. I think I also heard a “What the f*ck!” from Coach himself. Ah, always so good and intellectual with you’re wording, Coach.

I heard more screaming, but I drowned that out by smashing everything I saw with a baseball bat. I gave Brittany the gun, and she fired more shots into the house. More screaming. More terror. More horrified shrieks. In other words, more fun.

That over-bearing sense of empowerment filled me once again. With every shot I took, with every smack of a bat, I was in control. The people inside that house, their very existence depended on every move I made. Of course, I had no intentions to kill either of them. I just wanted to scare the sh*t out of him. You know, “toughen him up” for the new football season.

We continued the assault, as I saw Coach look through the window. He saw me, looked into my eyes, and I shot him back one of the coldest, dead stares I had ever given. Of course, I eventually cracked a grin and waved. Even if I am a gun-wielding, bloodthirsty maniac, I still had manners.

Knowing that Coach had saw me, and that he knew it was me, made me feel a little more at rest. He’d surely be able to tell the cops it was me. The little scrawny kid who was never good enough for him, I was the one who rampaged his house and destroyed all of his precious belongings. He’d be able to tell them that the kid who was never good enough for him, suddenly had the courage to do everything he had always wanted. Be sure to tell them I smiled, Coach.

Brittany then handed me a box of matches, and I lit them. I threw them onto his backyard, and caught one of his trees. His backyard was now lit-up, like a beautiful violent Christmas scene. Coach’s wife had gone into the basement, while he was still standing in the kitchen, on the phone. Ooooh! I hope he’s calling 9-1-1. I love car chases.

Brittany and I decided it was time to head inside, so we smashed his back door with a rock and made our way in. I greeted Mr. Stevens with a “Hi, Coach!”, and yet another wave. Then I fired shots into the wall directly behind him. I turned around and fired shots all over his living room, through trophies and awards on top of his mantel. Then I spotted it.

The team picture, of our 2003 squad, that I was a part of. Yet, I wasn’t in the picture. The reason? Why, Coach told me the wrong date of the picture being taken, of course. Apparently he didn’t want Zack to “ruin” his pride and joy Bulls of 2003. Well, that’s a shame Coach, because it’s about to be ruined by him on a much larger scale.

I grabbed the portrait, while Coach stood starring at me dead-pale, while continually reminding me “the cops are coming”. I said, “That’s fantastic”, then lit the portrait on fire and placed on his couch. Boom! And just like that, my legacy grew. Coach’s house was about to be nothing more than a pile of ashes., courtesy of “Scrawny” Zack.

Looks like I finally came to a game prepared, Coach.