Chapter 11: Because FUCK YOU JOE

For those who are currently unaware. My little brother is a piece of shit. 

Unfortunately for the "best friend" in this story, he's also named Joe.

If you like Joe Jones' character you'd better not read any further, because tonight I couldn't see him as anyone other than Joe Maria.

I posted chapters awfully close together, so in case you missed Chapter 10 (or 1-9), the four friends tried to set up a trap for the coyote. Emily and Harold got pretty close, so did Joe and Kait. But Emily has gone, and it's getting late:

Chapter 11: The Motherfucker

                Harold was still staring at the stars, generally ignoring the wet-pasta sounds of Joe and Kait eating each other's faces... He pulled out his phone and texted Emily. "Thanks for coming over Em the Gem. Had a great time. See you at art tomorrow!"

                In so doing he reminded himself, he had an in class assignment tomorrow- to draw the skull he and his dad had unearthed. He'd done part one of the assignment, draw an object from memory, but still needed to do part two- use it as a visual aid and draw it again.

                He got up, and fetched his bag, and took out the skull. In the flickering light of the fire, it looked animate.

                "What the hell is that?" Kait asked.

                Joe answered for him, "He and Mr. Maria found that while they were digging the pit. I don't know why Harry is staring at it like a weirdo. He's just that way sometimes."

                "Shut the fuck up Joe. It's for art class, I have to draw it tomorrow."

                "You have Miss Day?"

                Harold nodded.

                "She's super weird. Not surprised she asked you to draw a skull."

                Harold stopped, turned the bone to look at it from a different angle. "She seems cool. But she didn't ask me to draw the skull specifically. Just told me to choose a thing that was small enough to bring into class.

                "Well," said Joe, grunting as he fought through his light inebriation, to gain his feet, "I think It's about time I emptied the old urine satchel."

                "Eeeww," Kait hissed.

                "Hey we all do it," Joe said. And he went into Harold's house.

                Kait sighed, and kicked the fire, sparks leapt into the air, and faded into the smoke and darkness. "It's getting pretty late. Do you think that coyote will ever show up?"

                Harold didn't answer, not right away. He set the skull down beside him, and looked beyond the fire, to the shed door which yawned in the darkness as the mouth of a cave.

                "I don't know. I'm starting to think no. Perhaps we are too close, maybe it was spooked by the fire. I want it to work, but-"

                The back door to the house swung open and Joe came out. "But what?"

                Kait rose to her feet and gave him a hug. "Joe do you think this trap is gonna work?"

                Joe drew a shaky breath, and shook his head. "It's already past 1 in the morning. I don't think... No. Maybe it was scared off by the fire being so close."

                She looked up at him. "That's what Harry was just saying."

                Joe sighed. "Yeah. Maybe it could smell us too. But no, I don't think it's gonna work."

                "Joe, can you walk me home? It's getting kinda late and..." She whispered something in his ear, Harold could not hear it, but he could read body language well enough.

                Joe grinned, but the grin did not touch his eyes. "Yeah. It'd be nice to take my mind off this, and off Rufus."

                Then he looked at Harold. "Harry, are you gonna be ok here? Alone?"

                Harold gave him a look, which he hoped communicated incredulity. "Shut up Joe."

                Joe nodded, and took Kait around the waist- then they left the circle of fire-light and darkness closed around them.

                Harold watched them go, shadows walking together, Joe turned back towards him. "Harry?"

                "Yeah Joe."

                "Thank you for trying."

                Harold nodded, and raised a hand to Joe, "Listen buddy, it's not over. I'll still be here by this rope, until you get back. And if we don't catch that coyote tonight, we'll try again tomorrow. And the night after."

                "You sure?" Harold could hear the pain in Joe's voice.

                He responded as confidently as he could. "Absolutely. We'll catch the motherfucker."

                Joe turned back towards the side of the house, and he and Kait were almost gone.

                "Hey Joe! One other thing."

                Joe's voice gave a little shake, but more solid than it had a moment prior, "Yeah?"

                "You have your phone right? Call me when you're walking back, in case... In case you encounter that thing alone, I'll come running."

                Joe laughed. "You got it Harry. But I'd like to see that fucker try. Coyote comes at me, it better be ready to die. Believe that."

                Harold watched them go. Then he wrapped the rope tight around his palm and looked at the skull. "We'll get the motherfucker."

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                Joe and Kait walked as close together as physically possible. Every couple steps, one would person's foot would clip against the others, and they'd stumble as an excuse to press even tighter.

                It was a short walk to Kait's house, but they made it last. They started making out.

                One thing led to another, Joe was panting. "God Kait!" His hand was moving up her shirt, he pulled her tight against him. His hand was on her back, he fumbled with the clasp of her bra, "Is this ok?"

                She groaned. But did not help him with the hooks, because she was busy struggling with his belt. "Yes!"

                They moved to the bushes and fell into one another.

                Kait reached into his fly, and giggled. "But we have to make this quick!"

                "Uh huh. Ok. Why?"

                "Because Harold is all alone with a vicious animal on the loose. You gotta get back after you... get me home safe."

                "Ok, quick. Not a problem!"

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                Harold was watching the fire light, trying to stay alert. But his eyes were drooping, and sleep was gnawing at the edges of his thought.

                He told himself that he needed to stay awake.

                But his eyes drifted shut.

                He strained to keep them open, but night was to calm, and the cricket song was too pleasing, and the last lingering smells of Emily on his clothes was too comforting.

                He told himself that there's no way the coyote could eat the bait without making a racket, at which point he'd jolt away and yank the door shut.

                He checked the rope to make sure his grip was tight, and decided it'd be better to tie it.

                The effort exhausted his last scraps of energy, and his eyes shut again.

                He smiled as he drifted off to sleep.

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                "God Kait, I'm so sorry."

                She giggled, and gave him a playful shove. "What the hell are you sorry for? I said we had to be quick."

                "I know, but... Just can't believe I... Well. Dammit, I'm sorry I finished before we even had a chance to start."

                She giggled again. And reached out a hand, "Help me up, Joe. You are way too much, really stop apologizing. It's okay."

                He helped her up and gave her a hug. "I am sorry though."

                But she was all smiles. "Sorry? Cut it out already. I told you it's no big deal."

                He frowned. "You're just being nice. God this is embarrassing."

                "No, I'm not just being nice. I'm taking it as a compliment that you were so, um..." She looked down at the mess on her hoodie, "turned on by me that you literally couldn't take it. That's a turn on for me, you know."

                "Yeah?"

                "Yeah. And it just means, we'll have to schedule a re-do, so turn that frown upside down."

                Joe laughed. "You're the only person who's allowed to say turn that frown upside down without sounding like an absolute tool, you know that?"

                She grinned. "Alright, get me home. I gotta throw this in the wash, before my mom sees it and bans me from bonfires for the rest of my life. And you better hope that this doesn't stain, or then you really will be sorry."

                He walked her the rest of the way to her house, and before they went under the porch light, stole one more moment while they still had stealth- he kissed her goodnight.

                She went up the porch, and shut the door behind her.

                Then waved at him through the window, and mouthed, "BE SAFE!"

                He smiled, broadly, and blew her a kiss.

                Then he turned down the street.

                He pulled out his phone and dialed for Harold, but Harold did not pick up.

                It went to voicemail and at first Joe was smiling while he spoke. "Dammit Harry what happened to making sure I got home safe, you bum? What are you sleeping on the job?"

                Then Joe's smile faded, utterly, and his eyes narrowed. "Harry, you better be fucking Okay man. Why aren't you answering your phone?"

                Joe thought the worst- he'd already lost a pet and did not need to lose a friend.

                He shoved his phone into his pocket and started off at a sprint.

                But he'd only gone three strides, when a blur of movement and fur came tearing out of the bushes to his right.

                He flinched and, and staggered in his jog.

                It was bigger than he'd expected, and it moved with deadly speed.

                Joe raised his fists, and yelled "There you are you motherfucker! You ready to die?"

                The animal snarled, and the hairs on Joe's neck curled.

                It came charging at him, it's eyes flashed a nocturnal, predatory glow- like pieces of amber glinting under a flame...

                It was not simply ready for death, it was speeding it along, death was at its claws and death was on its fangs. Death clung to the fur of its face and the hairs on its tail.

                The hunted creature leapt through the air, and hit Joe full in the chest.

                Joe was sent reeling backwards, and landed hard on his tailbone.

                He scrambled to gain his feet, and trembled when he saw the motherfucker in the full light of street lamps.

                Joe could not scream, for terror had caught him by the throat- he raised his fists again, and heard a scream that was not his-

                "Joe! Oh my God! Joe!"

                The beast rushed against him, and slammed it's claws into his shoulders.

                He screamed, at first inarticulate with pain, then he managed what he could: "Aaaaggh! Stay inside!"

                It put forth it's weight and crushed him down to the pavement. He felt his collar bones creak, and cried out amid his tears and pain, "My God Kait, for the love of shit don't come out! Call nine-"

                The beast put pressure on his neck, sharp points on either side of his throat. It made him want to cough, his lungs heaved but air would not come out. He made a fist, as strong as he could and punched the thing in the side.

                It issued a low rumble from its heaving chest. Joe knew animals could not laugh, so he wondered why this one was.

                It pulled it's crimson teeth away from his neck, and he tried to tell Kait, '0ne one', but his voice was but a gurgle and searing pain.

                His consciousness fled like a shadow from a burning light, and at the edges of the end, he thought he could hear Kait screaming. But it was hard to tell over the sounds of clacking teeth and snapping tendons.

JUMP RIGHT TO TWELVE: ITS ALL FUN AND GAMES UNTIL YOUR FRIEND GETS SAVAGED BY A COYOTE AND THE LAW GETS INVOLVED

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Fuck you joe. 

Well, I tried.

So... last year, I posted about my little brother, Joe, being an absolute piece of shit.


This year, I showed you things have stayed more or less the same. He's still human garbage, who routinely got dad's hopes up and then shat on everything he cared about. The very day dad had a heart attack, Joe had refused to garden with us.

Then, dad was gone. It all happened in the blink of an eye.

I was left to tend the garden alone.

a couple days ago, I harvested a bunch of peas, and cooked them up with stuff from our freezer. Entitled little dip shit Joe started eating the food. 

I told him he couldn't have any because he didnt' help grow it and was a disappointment to dad. Mom sided with Joe, and forced me to share.

I ranted about it here and on reddit.

People said Joe was grieving too, and so was mom. They said I was being selfish for thinking it was all about me, and that I should share.

They urged me to talk it out with Joe and with my mom.

So. today.

I talked it out with Joe.

I told him, basically, that the garden was the most important thing to dad, the most important thing he left behind. I told Joe that it was an honor to work the same soil that dad had worked, and tend the plants that dad had planted.

Joe told me he didn't want to, and he wasn't "interested".

I wanted to punch him so bad. Or worse.

I told him it's not a matter of simple interest, it's a matter of principle. I told him dad wanted him to help in the garden- I reminded him of the time dad actually asked him to and he refused.

I told him he had to make it right, and get his ass into the garden and help.


He refused AGAIN.

I told him he had no choice, and he actually told me to go fuck myself.


SERIOUSLY? FUCK YOU JOE!


I'm so angry right now. And there's nothing I can do. The trap is empty, and it seems the animals may be learning or something. I haven't caught anything in a while.

So what am I supposed to do?

I took reddit's advice and tried talking to him. You see how well that went.


Well I tried one more thing: I told Joe there was a lot that needed to be harvested, and that if he wanted to eat it he should fucking help.

He said, "Mom'll make you share."

I told him, I was way ahead of her. I was gonna cook without using any food she bought. Just going to use the food I grew with dad and nothing else.

and Joe said, "As if I care about eating your shitty vegetables. Keep them to yourself."

Why is my 14 yr old brother such a little shit? What 14 yr old talks like that? I hope hell exists, just so he can go there.


Well...

I ended up doing all the garden work by myself (OF COURSE).

This is what I picked:

beets greens, peas, dill, and daylilies 

I added daylilies to the veggies from the garden, because I had recently seen somebody post a picture of them on reddit, and I got to remembering how dad used to use fry the immature buds.

Had a craving.


BTW, daylilies are edible  but be very careful if you plan on using them. True lilies are toxic! Make sure you get a positive ID. And if you intend to eat them, take a small amount first, in case you are allergic. (Unless you are one of my anonytrolls, in which case do you want IDGAF)

I pan fried everything.

Mom asked what I was cooking, and why I wouldn't share with Joe. (Obviously the little shit tattled on me.) I told her I asked him for help, and told him ahead of time if he wanted to eat any, he better help.

She said we talked about this last time. and "You need to share with your brother and sister"

I told her I'd happily share with her and my sister, but not with Joe, because I had explained to him i needed the help, and told him he'd have to help me if he wanted to eat it, and he had said he didn't want to eat my "SHITTY VEGETABLES" anyway.

She looked royally pissed when she heard that word, but told her it was direct from his mouth.

I thought she'd go yell at Joe, but all she said was: "Alex, you're not the only one in this family, you're not the only one who misses your father. You are older than Joe, grow up and start acting like a big brother instead of a little brat."


Well let me tell you, I was mad enough to fucking wreck something.

"Little brat?" Is she fucking serious? JOE is the little brat.


I wanna hurt him.




I finished and posted chapter 10 of my book  yesterday... the whole time I was thinking I should have chosen a different name for the main character because dad is gone. It's hard to write a living character if it's supposed to be him. I was also thinking it was a huge shame that the best friend's name was JOE since the real life Joe is an absolute piece of trash, who disrespects dad's memory daily.


Now, I owe it to dad to get Joe into the garden. But Joe is putting up all kinds of opposition.

Thinking all this, I'm going to sit down and write tonight. That's for goddamned sure. I'm gonna write something nice and fitting for Joe Jones and the whole time I'll be imagining Joe Maria.

How else can I cope?

EDIT: Here's 11. That felt great to write.