It’s Good To Be The Prick: Part 3
“Andrew, it’s myyy tuuurn! I wanna ride! ANDREWWWW!!!”, screamed a voice in my cul-de-sac. Unfortunately, this screaming voice was not the only annoying sound coming from outside. There was also the sound of the barely baffled Briggs and Stratton engine on the go-cart that dick hole Andrew was cutting doughnuts with in front of my house.
I really don’t mind the go-cart per say. I mean, it looks fun for a kid, and on the plus side, it’s only a matter of time before the little bastard becomes a hood ornament for some old lady that won’t see him darting in and out of the neighborhood driveways… How I long for that day. My problem with little Andrew is that he has driven through my lawn on many occasions and has left skid marks on the driveway that I pay to have pressure washed clean. I have tried to be nice and asked him to keep his rickety death trap on wheels out of my fucking yard, but all I got was a disrespectful stare and his eventual return.
I mulled over a few different solutions for getting rid of Racer Fuckboy, and keeping in mind that he was just a kid made it difficult to execute a proper plan. I decided to start out simple and make the environment not as fun to race around in anymore. Considering the fact that the cul-de-sac had collected a large amount of pine straw and leaves at the curb, and this is where Andrew liked to spin his tires, I made this area my main focal point. After the sun went down, I strolled over to my side yard, which is also known as “The Designated Dog Shit Area” - or the “DDSA”, and carefully collected a large multitude of “shit mines”. I took said shit mines and spread them evenly in the pine straw curb décor. I figured if he plowed through and kicked up enough rancid shit with his tires he would decide to race around elsewhere. All that was left was the wait.
The next day, I heard little Andrew come tearing down the street, so I went out in the garage to get a closer look. Like clockwork, he came down in front of my house, hit the pine straw and started cutting doughnuts. After about three shit brown circles were drawn onto the pavement by Andrew’s tires, he stopped and got out of the go-cart. “Ewwww!”, he screamed. Then he drove off and went home. Later on in the day, I drove by Andrew’s house, and saw his father washing the dog shit out of the go-cart’s tires, roll bar, engine, and seats with a hose; he didn’t look happy. Yep, good old Speedy Von Dumbass won’t be coming back down my way anytime soon… or so I thought.
Fast forward to the following weekend: It started out as a peaceful Saturday morning, birds were singing, the sun was shining, and I was even balls deep into a blow job by 9:30am; the morning was perfect. It was later, while pondering my so far perfect day, that I heard the all too familiar sound of Idiot Boy and the Go-Cart from Hell. My jaw tightened as I realized my perfect day had come to an end.
I watched through my front window as this little fucker sped around for a minute or two, shook my head, and walked into the kitchen. As I opened the fridge, I heard a loud “TING!” kind of sound from outside. I looked out through the window again and saw my mail box post tilted to the left and Andrew speeding away in the background. It was at that point that I decided, kid or not, he’s going down. I may have lost the battle, but damn it, I’ll win the fucking war. It was now time to execute “Plan B”.
“Smokes? Check. Lighter? Check. One Hitter? Fuckin’ A, check”… good, now off to Target. Once at Target, I went straight for the toy section and spent $1.29 on everything that I needed to execute Plan B. What did I buy you ask? Just a simple little game known as “Jacks”. If you are unfamiliar with Jacks, you have these little metal pieces made up of six tines. Each tine is shaped with a ball on the end so kids don’t get hurt. You also have a rubber ball that you bounce and then try to pick up a certain amount of jacks before the ball hits the ground again. Well, if you take a wire cutter to these jacks and cut off the tine-ball ends at an angle, you get something with a lot of sharp points that resembles a miniature ninja weapon, or something that James Bond would use to blow out his enemy’s tires… which was exactly what I intended to do. I took my new weapons of mass deflation and essentially created two ten inch long, perforated spike strips in the pine straw and leaves. Once again, all that was left was the wait.
By Sunday afternoon, I was exploding with anticipation; where the fuck is Go-Cart Boy, damn it? Well sure enough, around 2:30pm, here comes Andrew. He came flying down the street, did a lap, and disappeared; I knew he’d be back. Five minutes later here he comes again and he was headed straight for the pine straw. I took a deep breath, clenched my beer, and “Pssssh…Pssssh”… direct double hit! I thought to myself, “You wanted the thunder, kid… well now you’ve got it!”. Numb-nuts drove for about fifteen more feet, stopped the go-cart and ran home crying. About five minutes later, I see Andrew, his father, and his little brother that just wanted a turn to ride in the first place, all walk down the street together and pushed the tilting-to-the-right go-cart home, which still sits on two flat tires to this day. As I watched them all working together in unison to get that go-cart home, I couldn’t help but think about how I brought all three of them closer together as a family that day.
I wiped a small tear from the corner of my eye and thought, “Man, it’s good to be the prick”.
by
VooDoo
