Story #2; Chapter Two - Bobby's Beginning (Part One)

"Hey Bobby! Come over and help!" came a yell from behind the fence. Bobby stood up from his gardening and walked over. "What's wrong this time John?" he asked, amused at the sight of his neighbour. John was doubled over with a bunch of gardening tools lying on top of him. "You know I am not good with these tools, they don't like me." John said as Bobby pulled him to his feet. "You wanna learn?" Bobby asked. "No thanks, I would rather leave the gardening to you my green friend." John began to walk back to his house. "Hey Bobby, call me out when you are done all right? I will be in the house looking after my wife," he said. "Sure, just make sure you pay me for my work later, and not give me a bunch of pumpkins that I helped you plant like the last time," Bobby yelled back at the departing figure. "Hey I can't help it that I am poor!" John replied and went inside. Bobby got down to his work, whistling as he did. It was a beautiful day, with the birds chirping, and grey clouds spreading over the dark skies... Grey clouds? Bobby thought to himself. "Damn, it's going to rain," he cursed under his breath, as he hurriedly packed his friend's tools into the corner and went back to his own garden. John yelled out from his house's window. "Bobby! You forgot my spade!" Bobby looked back and saw the shiny silver still laid out on the grass. The rain began to pour heavily. Damn, rain in the evening just makes me want to boil an egg, eat it and go to bed, Bobby thought to himself. Bobby climbed over the fence once more and into John's garden and made his way for the spade, tripping as he did so. "Damn John, you should be thankful there's a gardener like me next door to do your weeding for you..." Bobby muttered under his breath. He picked up the spade and went to the garden shed to hang it up with the rest of the tools. "There you go," he said, satisfied. The thunder roared and lightning stricked across the skies. "Alright, alright, I am heading home, quiet already." Bobby climbed back to his own garden and made his way to the house, absent-mindedly wanting to light up his cigarette, laughing at himself as he did.
*
The night skies loomed over the town, and it was still raining since evening. Bobby laid back on his sofa to enjoy reading his newspaper. The thunder roared as loud as ever outside and Bobby went to open the curtains to admire the rainy scenery outside. "I love the rain," he said to himself, as he smiled at the crying skies. His eyes then shifted from the skies to what was happening next door. A black figure was leaving the house and heading towards the road. "John?" Bobby questioned his own eyes. Bobby took a look at his clock. Eleven 'o clock, where's he going out so late? Bobby thought to himself as he continued to observe the dark figure make its way down the road. Bobby, having nothing to do, decided to call his neighbour up to ask how were things going. He picked up the phone only to find it dead. "The telephone lines must have been cut. The lightning must have tripped it," he said to himself. Bobby grabbed his coat and using it to cover himself ventured into the rain and made his way to John's house. He knocked on the door, but there was no reply. Bobby decided that John's wife, Martha should be in, at the very least, so he called out her name, knocking as he did. No reply. Bobby tried the door, and was surprised to find it open. He entered the darkness of his friend's house and peered about in the dark, trying to make his way for the light. He bumped onto a chair, making it fall, as he went for the light. Bobby sweared under his breath, and as he did, he tripped over something else and landed chin first onto the floor. "Ow..." he got up, rubbing his chin as he did so, and groping with his hands he found the switch, and turned on the lights. Looking at what he tripped upon, Bobby nearly fainted at the sight infront of him. There on the floor with half her head blown to bits by a shotgun, was Martha...

Story #2; Chapter One - Bobby Meets The Boy

His hands were cold with rainwater splashing upon his palms. His hair wet from the dripping remnants of the morning rain from the window sill. Bobby leaned on the wall of the cottage, inhaling another mouthful of smoke. He exhales and sighed as he did so. Infront of him, a small boy looked at him with wonder, curious at how a small, thin brown stick could allow Bobby to breathe out air that was visible to the naked eye. "Go away kid, I have no time to mess around with kids like you." The boy remained rooted to the ground on which he stood. "Sir, please teach me to do that?" the boy asked politely. Bobby coughed and proceeded to shake a bundle of ash onto the grass. "No way kid, your mother would be upset," Bobby replied. The boy shook his head. "She doesn't talk anymore," the boy said quietly. Bobby crushed his cigarette and walked towards the garden shed to start on his duties. The boy followed suit. "Go away kid, I am serious, I will tell your dad," Bobby threatened, irritated. "He threw us away, my mom and I that is," the boy replied. Bobby stopped and turned around. "Yeah? Well buzz off kid, because I am starting to see why he did that," Bobby turned back and continued to head for the shed. The boy didn't follow this time. Bobby went into the shed, he looked back and saw that the boy was gone. "Good, now with that nuisance gone, I can start work." Bobby took out his gardening tools and proceeded to work on the lawn. "Damn these weeds..." cursed Bobby as he used his tools to hack at the elongated leaves of the weeds. "Sir, do tell me why." Bobby fell back. "What on earth?" he muttered under his breath. The boy was squatting infront of Bobby as he played with a small clover leaf. "You said you could see why my father left my mom and myself, I want to know why..." Bobby stood up, dusted himself and walked into the house. The boy entered the house as well. Bobby took a quick turn into the kitchen, the boy accompanied him as well. "Look kid! Get lost! Don't you have someone else to annoy? Go play with your toys or something!" Bobby yelled angrily. "I don't have toys, our family could never afford it," the boy answered. Bobby snorted angrily and proceeded to make himself a sandwich. Opening the cabinets he found the food he needed for his lunch. Two slices of bread, a piece of ham and some veggies. Bobby was about to place the sandwich into his mouth when he saw the small boy eyeing it hungrily. "Have it kid, and get lost after eating it." Bobby handed the sandwich over to the small boy and went back outside to continue his work. The small boy bit into the sandwich and followed. The boy sat on the fence and watched as Bobby continued to do his gardening, cursing and swearing as he did. After awhile, Bobby sat down on the now cleared garden of his and took out another cigarette to puff. He looked around for the small boy and couldn't find him anywhere. "Good riddance," he said to himself as he lighted up his stick. Looking around again, he caught sight of a small figure walking on the road. Bobby also took notice of something more frightening. Behind the small figure, was a long trail of blood...

Sidetracks; There are always two sides to a coin after all.

Keeping and maintaining a friendship that lasts is very difficult. Sometimes it's not because of your own flawed ways that is causing the friendship to fall apart, instead, it could involve the other party instead. Such as the situation I am in. Why can't people just be nicer and just help around, or to care alittle for their friends whenever they have the chance? I simply can't understand what's so difficult about keeping your fucking comments to yourself, and just shut up when you get your cue. I am pissed off that right now, even when I speak to a friend, (a friend, mind you), I have to think and ponder over whether to say what it is I have to say or not. Especially since this friend considers my words as mundane and seems to consider it as though I am talking to a wall. Then how on earth are you supposed to talk anymore?! I mean seriously, you fucked up asshole, if you are the only one that is allowed to talk bullshit, then honestly, you need treatment! Why start a relationship whereby both parties have to consider what they talk about?! Why couldn't two friends just chat about something that's free to both parties and simply enjoy talking to each other, however mundane the rubbish is?! Seriously, I don't mind people chatting random stuff to me, I accept them and I can understand sometimes, the only thing that I don't like about people chatting random stuff to me would be when they start to chat in a very fucked up manner. Firstly, if you are cocky, and like to fucking boast, then go talk to a fucking wall or something, because praising yourself (and meaning it), is a fucked up thing to do. Unless you are simply sharing the joy with a friend, then that's fine, but not to go to the extent to lay out every single card on the table to help you say the words, "hey I am the best". Secondly, I cannot stand assholes that say they don't care about their friends and take friendships lightly, if you want to be that way, then don't start a fucking friendship in the first place, seriously, go bite the bark off a tree. Thirdly, comments. Be sensitive for the fucking damnation! Shooting off your mouth might hurt someone, and if you think that insults are cool, well, here's one for ya, you fucking bitchy person. Go and drown yourself in cocaine, or inject yourself with some drugs to help you clear your fucking polluted head. Your head's become so big, it could do with some clearing up. Honestly, I SERIOUSLY CAN'T BE BOTHERED WITH YOU, SO FUCK OFF. Ok! Fine, fine, I understand that sometimes, as you guys are growing up you get those certain mood swings. Well, seriously, you can be nice people if you want to, but when you get all fucked up, you really ARE FUCKED UP. So does trying to be nice kill you? Not quite so, right?! THEN WHY DON'T YOU FUCKING TRY?! GROW UP ALREADY! You guys are not fucking kids anymore! Seriously, get a brain and use it! I cannot stand it any longer than you guys do, because I think that true friends should help each other out whenever they can, and not backstab each other with a knife! I admit that I have been backstabbing, but I know it's wrong, and the only reason why I am doing it is because I want to stay on the good books on the angered party, BUT THIS BRINGS US BACK TO THE VALUES OF FRIENDSHIP! WHY DO FRIENDS HAVE TO CONSIDER WHAT THEY SAY TO EACH OTHER?! ISN'T THE FREEDOM OF TALKING TO FRIENDS THE REASON WHY FRIENDS ARE FRIENDS IN THE FIRST PLACE?! THINK ABOUT IT!