Pete/Short Story
Keen Tojones
2011/09/16 18:05:14
Pete/Short Story
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He was little, even as a child. Showing a spunky nature early and his father liked him.
His eyes were blue and shone out from his olive complexion like two jewels. His visage cried out joker and one knew upon looking at him, that he was a little crazy in the vibrant sense.
A survivor.
At eight, his father, an accomplished coach, began pitching balls to him in the front yard. At first gently, and father watched his son with a smile.
When the boy was eight and a half, his father began shooting rocket balls at him. At speeds of up to 70 miles per hour.
The balls hit the side of the ffamily's brick home with a ccrack. And Pete's father would yell out like a Viking landing upon shore.
"You little pussy! You cain't catch that ball!"
Pete trembled, turned and ran at his fullest speed to the back yard where his mother hung out clothes.
"Get in to the basket." She whispered.
Pete did as his mother said and she dropped two sheets upon him.
Pete's father walked around to the back of the house.
"Where'd he go?" The tanned, muscular man demanded.
The petite woman turned to look at her husband.
"Who?"
"Pete!"
She looked around the yard and then back at her husband.
"I don't see him." She said and straightened the clothes on the line.
The tanned, muscular man turned with a "shit" and walked back to the front yard.
When Pete joined the army and headed to Vietnam, he let his father know that he was leaving. The still tanned, muscular man advised him that he had his blessing.
Not expecting Pete to return. Pete was too emotional. Too good. He was no more a soldier in his father's eyes, than a mouse.
It was in Vietnam that the so-called pussy killed scores and saved a few. The little blond haired boy who took his father's wrath, became a soldier with honor.
Upon returning from Vietnam, Pete went to college and secured himself a dgree in English. Not quite of academic quality, Pete didn't become a professor.
Instead, he went where the crazy go. He became a journalist. Writing for the sports section and kicks ass in a different sort of way.
What he can't do to you with the bad news, he slays you with his sense of humor.
It's been this writer's honor to have been acquainted with Pete. The toughest son of a bitch on this planet.
With a high pitched voice and a humble way, his talent is unmatched, but often cloaked in ignoble lines.
His eyes were blue and shone out from his olive complexion like two jewels. His visage cried out joker and one knew upon looking at him, that he was a little crazy in the vibrant sense.
A survivor.
At eight, his father, an accomplished coach, began pitching balls to him in the front yard. At first gently, and father watched his son with a smile.
When the boy was eight and a half, his father began shooting rocket balls at him. At speeds of up to 70 miles per hour.
The balls hit the side of the ffamily's brick home with a ccrack. And Pete's father would yell out like a Viking landing upon shore.
"You little pussy! You cain't catch that ball!"
Pete trembled, turned and ran at his fullest speed to the back yard where his mother hung out clothes.
"Get in to the basket." She whispered.
Pete did as his mother said and she dropped two sheets upon him.
Pete's father walked around to the back of the house.
"Where'd he go?" The tanned, muscular man demanded.
The petite woman turned to look at her husband.
"Who?"
"Pete!"
She looked around the yard and then back at her husband.
"I don't see him." She said and straightened the clothes on the line.
The tanned, muscular man turned with a "shit" and walked back to the front yard.
When Pete joined the army and headed to Vietnam, he let his father know that he was leaving. The still tanned, muscular man advised him that he had his blessing.
Not expecting Pete to return. Pete was too emotional. Too good. He was no more a soldier in his father's eyes, than a mouse.
It was in Vietnam that the so-called pussy killed scores and saved a few. The little blond haired boy who took his father's wrath, became a soldier with honor.
Upon returning from Vietnam, Pete went to college and secured himself a dgree in English. Not quite of academic quality, Pete didn't become a professor.
Instead, he went where the crazy go. He became a journalist. Writing for the sports section and kicks ass in a different sort of way.
What he can't do to you with the bad news, he slays you with his sense of humor.
It's been this writer's honor to have been acquainted with Pete. The toughest son of a bitch on this planet.
With a high pitched voice and a humble way, his talent is unmatched, but often cloaked in ignoble lines.
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