Easy Mac

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


A story I wrote in high school but re-finished in college. Played around with mirroring a little bit. Kinda cool, slightly disturbing, kinda like me ¯\_(?)_/¯

Submitted: June 19, 2018

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Submitted: June 19, 2018

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I find that people often fit the names they are given.

 My name, for example, is Max.

When you hear the name Max, what kind of person do you picture?  I would picture a very average adolescent boy, with long brown hair, and a wardrobe of hand-me-down jeans and countless t-shirts for each of his favorite bands. Sadly, that is exactly what I look like, a typical Max.

But it’s not only me that fits their name so well.

Take my step dad.

Gus.

Now when you picture a Gus, is he pretty? 

Not likely. In my opinion, Gus sounds like a name that belongs to the most repulsive, rudest waste of oxygen on earth and in my stepfather’s case that is a spot on visualization. My real dad left after I was a born, and Gus has been in the picture ever since.

He married my mother when I was 5, and for a while everything wasn’t so bad. But when Gus lost his job as a manager at GameStop and never decided to get back on the horse, things began to change in my life.

He got my mom pregnant. It was definitely an accident because my mother always talked about how she didn’t want more children, but nevertheless she would get them now.

Two girls.

Brittney and Destiny, after Gus’s deceased grandmothers. Who were the classiest of ladies I’m sure.

Once they were born, my existence became very awkward.

To Gus I was the constant reminder of my father, especially since my mother wanted me to keep his name instead of taking on Norbuck. God bless her.

I’m seventeen now, my birthday is only two months away and I find that I have to constantly remind myself of that.

Only two more months and I’m gone.

Just two.

Now I spend my time doing only a handful of different things.

I wake up, go to school, come home, do homework, complete all the household chores, then I start dinner until my mother comes home and helps me.

We eat, and I have the rest of the night to “do what I want” as Gus always says.

That was such horseshit.

Tonight I went to my room to read and escape the post meal TV watching. I heard my name being called only five minutes later.

Gus needed a drink.

Which meant scotch. It was his favorite drink; every night he’d have a few glasses after dinner. After about his third he’d pass out in his chair until the next morning.

“Ay Maxy! Get out here and fix me a drink!” he yelled from his recliner, “Half ice!”

It was never a question, always demanded, and if I refused or gave “lip” it would be the belt. I was a slave. Only talked to when someone wanted something done, or to be yelled at for not doing something right. I walked into the kitchen grabbed his scotch glass, filled it half way with ice and poured the caramel colored liquid. I always liked the smell of this stuff but Gus promised me early on that if I EVER tried to sneak even a drop of his precious scotch, I would be given the belt.

And I believed him.

I walked into living room and handed him the glass.

“What is that?” he asked.

“Your drink? What’s it look like?” His face grew stiff at my attitude.

“I said halfway, does that look hallway to you dumbass?” he lifted the glass to my eye level and I looked at it.

It was slightly past halfway; no regular human being would be such a dick to make this a big deal.

But Gus wasn’t a regular human being.

“Like are you really so stupid you cant tell when a glass is past half full? Like do your eyes even fucking work?” The girls giggled, they loved when he shit on me.

“Max is blind!” Brittney yelled.

“Why can’t he do anything right daddy?” Destiny mocked.

“Couldn’t tell ya!” Gus didn’t take his eyes off me. “Now go pour this into another cup and fill it HALFWAY with ice. Then you can wash the other glass and put it away. Thank you!” He wafted his hand at me and looked away. I took his glass and walked into the other room, my free hand was balled in a fist so tight that my knuckles began to turn white.

Two months Max. Two months and you’re gone.

I took a deep breath.

My therapist would be proud.

‘See now doesn’t controlling your anger feel better than lashing out?’ he would ask.

But I never could answer that question.

 I never really tried lashing out.

I brought Gus his new glass and made sure it was half full of ice this time. He looked at it skeptically for a moment then placed it in his cup holder, averting his eyes back to the TV.

Your welcome.” I thought to myself. I only got a few steps away until I heard Brittney loudly clear her throat. It was her own special, bitchy little way to let me know she was going to ask me something.

“Maaax, I’m hungry!” she whined, “Make me a snack.” Like their father, they had gotten into the habit of demanding things from me.

“ How are you hungry? You ate dinner a half hour ago.”

“Uhhh, cuz I don’t like when you cook and I didn’t wana eat what you made.” She giggled as she said it. Her sausage of an index finger touched her lips as she thought about what she wanted.

“I want Easy Mac, with hot dog bites.” Her eyes lit up as she said it.

 Fatass.

“Ooooooo, I want some!” Destiny looked back from where she was sitting, two feet from the television set.

“I just finished cleaning the kitchen and I’m not making you Easy Mac. You guys can wait until breakfast tomorrow or get a snack from the pantry.”  As soon as those words left my mouth I knew I was in for it.

“Daaaaaddyy, Max won’t make us food.” I almost laughed at how fat she sounded but stopped myself; if I laughed in a situation like this it would be the belt.

“Max. Go in the kitchen and make them some Easy Mac. You don’t have to make the hot dogs. Okay? Aren’t you old enough to know how to compromise?”

I hate when he asked me rhetorical questions like that. I began to walk to the kitchen; both of my hands were fists now.

Two more months Max. Only two more mon-…

I stopped half way to the kitchen.

 I knew it was exactly half way this time because I stood directly in front of the TV. Gus hated when I blocked his view.

Fuck your Easymac.” I whispered. My heart was pounding

“What did you say?” He was already very mad, you could always tell when he was real pissed, his eyes bulged and his mouth was slightly open as if about to say something more.

“FUCK your EASYMAC.” I said again, this time I nearly yelled it, not breaking eye contact with him.

“Brit, get my belt.” He stood and starred back at me in silence.

Brittney jumped up eagerly and ran to the bedroom where my mother was sleeping. She returned giggling and handed Gus the belt.

“Now turn around and get on your knees, you know the drill.”

I stood still.

“I’ll whoop you, front or back. It don’t matter to me.”

I didn’t move.

He raised his arm, belt in hand, and swung for my face.

Before the leather made contact with me, I raised my elbow and blocked his swing.

And right before I hit him I saw his face.

He looked confused, like he had no idea what was happening.

I caught him directly in the jaw, feeling it pop out as I made connection. He stumbled back and bent over to clutch his broken face. I moved forward and delivered another blow, an uppercut, straight in to his obese stomach. He toppled over like a sleeping cow, and laid flat on his back.

I kicked him in the ribs, he rolled over yelling out in pain and I kicked him again. He lay there, sobbing like a child while clenching different parts of his body.

A smile grew on my face as I looked at him.

I glanced at my sisters, their faces looked horrified of what they just witnessed.

As they should be.

I looked up to see my mother standing in the doorway to her room.

She was quiet, but there was a smile on her face too.

Lashing out differently felt better.


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