FirstLineFiction beta

from Contest #5

A boy with a parrot on his shoulder was walking along the railway tracks. As the train got closer he tried to reflect on what the fuck had just happened over the last few hours. He was used to bad things happening all the time to him. Ever since he was little, at the age of five his family passed away in a car accident while he was at school. He was raised in a very old house the kind you see in scary movies. This was where his grandfather lived, selling guns. In his youth, the old man was a member of the I.R.A. (Irish republic army) and as he grew older he kept in contact with a few “friends”. He had no problem living in that environment; the only thing that bothers him was that damn parrot. It wasn’t the kind that’s cute and colorful. It was a light grey color with a red tips on its tail, but the worst part were the yellow eyes. The damn bird would stare at you without blinking for such a long time you would have to trough something at it to make it stop. On the plus side, at least it was quiet. I guess you could say that the bird represented the old man’s personality well. By the age of ten the boy was able to disassemble an automatic rifle, clean it up, and put it back together in a very short time. However after he had the weapon ready to be fired, he didn’t have the balls to pull the trigger.

 As he grew older he began to understand the business better. There was always a lot of activity in the house, people coming in and out carrying huge wooden boxes of “oranges”. But he knew very well that there were guns in there. One of the main perks of the family business-or at least what was left of the family-were the boat trips. They were always peaceful since they were at late hours. While they waited for the other boat he would ask the old man about his dad, but he would always get the same response “your father was a shitty son just like you are a shitty grandson”. After a while he just stopped trying being friendly with him. it was always a red boat that would stop right next to the old man’s boat and they would do the exchange, they would get a black suitcase and we would get the boxes.

“Jimmy gets your ass to the other boat and help me with the boxes”

“MY NAME IS JAX YOU OLD BASTARD”

For him that was the worst part; even the parrot got treated better than Jax did. For the most part majority of the exchanges would go well, but there were always those times that new suppliers would try to pull something out their ass. This time something didn’t feel right. There were two boats instead of one.   As always one pulled next to our boat, and the other kept on going.

“Go load the shotgun jimmy, if they try something shoot their fucking heads off”

As the old man approached them he asked to see the “shipment”. After they show each other their supplies they load the guns to our boat, they drove off.

“Well that was awkward as hell”

While on the way back the two boats appear on the horizon. As they approached. Jax went to grab the shotgun but was stopped by the old man.

“Naa kid I got something for them”

The old bastard gets out a M32 grenade launcher and points at them, and like nothing he blows them the fuck up. Jax was amazed by how easily the old man pulled the trigger, he envied him for that. And to his misfortune, the old man noticed. He was very comfortable handling guns yet he could never use one, and what bothered him the most was he did not know why.

The next day Jax was rudely woken up by a bucket of cold water.

“So you can’t pull the trigger, pussy”

“How do you do it? You make it look so easy….kill a man just like that”

“Lots and lots of practice boy, lots of practice….but it’s not something I’m proud of  i use to be like you. But on the bright side you are going to learn the same way i did”

"Well how exactly did you learn to shoot, I don’t want to go out killing people for no reason"

"hahaha naa kid we'll leave that for later"

As the day went on it got better. They shot everything, from bottles to cans to squirrels.

"Wait here for a second kid, I got something for you"

 The old man goes inside and as he comes out he starts shooting at Jax

“What the fuck that hurts like hell.”

He looks down at his shirt and there are yellow paint spots everywhere. It was a paint ball gun. The old man hands him a loaded gun. Over the next two hours they kept playing with the guns. Both got shot several times.

“Now you know how to shoot, and keep in mind that if you don’t pull the trigger the asshole in front of you will”

“Thanks, I actually really enjoyed that a lot”

“Keep that type of shit to yourself”

Over the next few weeks everything was back to normal, people coming people going. Time went by fast but the memory of the night of the incident kept coming back. Jax kept playing the “what if” game. Before he knew it, it was time for another boat trip. As he got ready for it he made sure that he had a loaded gun by his seat in the boat. They got to the meeting place and as usual the boat was there. This time it was the same old red boat.

“Good to see a familiar face”

“Pleasure doing business with you as always”

They said their farewells and both parties were on their ways. On the way back, Jax and the old man had a long talk.

“You know kid, this business of ours; our family has been doing it for generations. When your dad became a man I asked him to join me and sells guns with me, he would have been able to provide his family with anything you could have imagined, but the stubborn bastard denied my offer.......... he said he wanted a normal life for you and make an honest living”

“Is that why you guys didn’t get along”

“Yea, but you on the other hand are carrying on the business at such a young age it makes me proud, however I want you to be honest with me kid, is this what you want to do or do you want to be a lawyer or a doctor or some other shit?”

“I’m fucking fifteen; do you honestly think that I’m going to make a decision that is going to determine the rest of my life at this age? Don’t get me wrong I think this is very profitable and simple but I’m just not sure yet “

“You got a few years to think about it so don’t worry just yet forget it for now”

“Then why did you bring it up now?”

“It’s just that these last ten years with you have been entertaining, I’m doing with you all the things my father did with me, and teaching you how to shoot just made think of you as the son I never had”

“What are you talking about, you had my dad”

“Yea but that bastard doesn’t count”

“Haha I guess so”

They got home in the early morning, and went straight to sleep. The next morning the old man seemed different ... in a good way. He was friendlier towards Jax. It was a good thing. The next day it was pick up time. Two costumers came to pick up their shipment. Jax went upstairs to feed the bird, when all of the sudden he hears two gunshots. He grabs his shotgun and heads downstairs but on his way a man comes out with a gun on his hand. Without thinking twice Jax shoots the motherfucker in the head. Blood splattered all over the wall as well as his body and a little got on his chin. Ho took a second to look and the body, the only thing that was left of the head was the lower jaw. Jax hurried down the stairs to help his grandfather.  When he gets there, there where two bodies laying on the ground. He approaches the old man.

“hey kid”

“Oh shit your still alive, what do I do , call the medics or something?”

“No get the hell out of here, there are more on the way. Go to the shed and fill a bag full of cash then  go to the train station and get on the one that takes you to Tacoma, you’ll be safe there”

Jax hurried up the stairs to get a bag, when he got to his room he saw the parrot and took it with him. When he got to the train station he was confused then he look at his shoulder and saw the parrot. He realized that after all the years living in that house he never learned his name.

“I’m going to name you after the old man, Frank”

 

He then realized that “Frank” was the only memory of the old man that he had left. And as the train got closer, so did his new life.

back to Contest #5