Funeral Fight or How Flick of Maine became a Cactus Man

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
A tragicomedy with satirical components.

Submitted: May 10, 2014

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Submitted: May 10, 2014

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„You fucking little faggot!“A dead silence fell on the livingroom like a hammer on an anvil. “I’ll tear your guts out and asphyxiate you with them!” He yelled out clutching the bow real tight. When Felix Vermont finished the sentence, he sprang out of his chair and crashed his way through four note stands for violin quartet, two armchairs, a sofa and approximately 12 people to bury his fist in the face of twenty-three years old Michael Lerwick standing in corner of his father’s living room.

“What the hell are you doing!? Sit down Vermont!” Aunt Grace blared out after he rammed into her and the silver tray she was carrying dropped on the ground with tea pot shattering to pieces. Now people began to gasp and loud discontent murmur echoed all over the lounge. “You deaf? Sit…the fuck… down!” Old man John stood up against him and slowly hissed out the same command. Felix just ignored his words and passed him by aiming directly on one spot. Public uneasiness rose exceedingly high when he threw the bow away and unintentionally hit ebony table nearby. ”Don’t you dare to touch me!” Michael shakily responded with much less fierceness and boldness than his challenger. ”I dare you Vermont!” His voice shook with distress when giving off idle threats.

As Felix got closer to him, his manfulness grew lower and lower, and when finally grabbed the collar of his starched shirt, it vanished completely. Some naïve part of his cerebral cortex still believed that sir Vermont will somehow get ashamed of his actions and release him untouched, as he was earlier. Perhaps he’ll say he was kidding. It was wrong.

Sixteen other people in living room were speechless. Everyone was so dumbfounded, they just sat there trembling with open mouths terrified. Women covered their kids’ eyes and hid them in their arms, old people were panting, men were cursing, but curiously, there was no one who tried to stop the attacker from assaulting their young relative. They literally froze of bewilderment.

”I told her to not marry that Yankee bastard. I knew he was a freak.”Aunt Gertrude declared with stoical calm while others couldn’t even swallow the last sip of tea they took. And continued on drinking as if nothing was happening.“Shut up Gertrude. We better hope he won’t kill him.”Uncle Kenneth shushed his sister, quietly praying and regretting that rheumatics got him, otherwise he could easily put down this riff-raff from across the ocean.

In the meantime Flick’s wrath descended on Michael in form of ruthless beating. As the first blow landed on his chin, his head filled with bitter remorse and sick delight at the same time. Even though he’ll might get his ass whipped pretty bad and it could take weeks to rally, on the other hand Flick will look even worse than he currently looks in eyes of his family. What is a black eye against a public hatred?

He didn’t stand a chance though. Back in time, when Flick was a teen, living in not the safest hood developed him quite a flair for fist fights and wrestling. He was quick, forceful and stroke with impeccable accuracy. Mike was scrawny, lame and lacked swiftness. Then subsequently came second hit in the stomach, third hit in the face and voilà, a torrent of red liquid streaming out of his nose. And another one under belt, and a kick between legs. Practically a shower of strokes he is not able to withstand.

“Who do you think you are, you dick? Next time you think twice before you talk!” Flick was deranged. It’s like he forgot about the whole world around, fully enjoying each punch he bestowed him, not minding scarlet knuckles he got from Lerwick’s nose bleed. Nothing from the outside could get to him.

Everyone was on feet now. At this time, the nonplus eased up a bit, but fear has increased multiple times when audience realized that it won’t remain just on friendly slaps. Panic-stricken home-folk started desperately shouting combatant’s names, their own names, saints’ names, curses, cop-calling threats and dead threats. They basically tried every verbal technique to stop the brawl. Of course, nobody was that stupid to venture getting sliced into pieces while senselessly trying to cool these angry roosters down. Mainly because the people who were present consisted of hysterical screaming women at the edge of their nerves, some even pregnant; elder people who at top of their limits were only able to holler swear words or yammer about how immigrants should leave Britain immediately; crying or laughing little kids, and last but not least grown and healthy men who could effortlessly interrupt this unpleasant encounter but demand amusement first.

“For the fuck’s sake, stop it Felix, there are kids here!” “Please Felix, I beg you, he is my only son!“ “Goddamn it Flick, I’ll kill you if you won’t release him!” and other very similar shouts filled up the space around the combatants as the audience stuck itself as close to fight as it was possible. The threats were useless, naturally.

To name the hero of the day, it was Margaret Lerwick who came to senses first. She stopped yelling pointless insults on Flick, rushed out of the living room and burst into kitchen calling her sister’s name to make her maniacal husband stop beating their brother black and blue. “Olivia, Jesus Christ, Olivia! Flick is fighting with Mike in the lounge! Do something! Quick! ” she screamed out the loudest she could.As soon as Olivia Lerwick-Vermont heard incoming tidings, her pupils dilated on size of teacup saucers, she left cooking behind and at speed of light scooted out of the kitchen to intervene flourishing skirmish going on next room.

When she arrived at the lounge door such appalling scenery appeared, it almost succeeded at making her swoon. Anarchy ruled the parlor now and the turmoil has spread across the whole space. No wonder, since it looked someway like this: On the right - was her “always-lose-your-shit” spouse smacking her wimpy brother till next Tuesday, who already had more bruises than there is stars on American flag. Also surrounded by three pensioners wielding rolls of newspaper, purses and walking sticks pretending they’re interfering.

” I’ll beat you, bastard, that you’ll fly off to that goddamn state of yours! “

“Felix you piece of shit, if you do something to him, I’ll murder you!!!”

And a plethora of damaged furniture, ranging from blood stained carpet, through broken tea pot to smashed chair on the ground.  

On the left - were whooping, clapping and jumping preparatory school children being entertained like they will never get again in their lives and rest of the violin quartet with their pale faces in vast consternation, minus the cellist already mentioned up there.

In the middle stood frenzied Katherine McCarth quaking of amuck; a pathetic simple minded girlfriend of Michael, with her whole bloodshot red face covered in snot and tears shrieking derogatory terms at Flick.

“Stop it, you fucking son of a bitch! I’ll kill you! I hate you Felix! Motherfucker,I HATE YOU!!!”

 Thereunto, a herd of despairing wives coercing their indifferent men to rip Flick off Mike.

“Damn it Gary, stop watching and knock him down! He’ll destroy the whole house!”

Aunt Grace yelled out as she spotted the two scuffling closer and closer to glass cabinet with Chinese porcelain. But brave gentlemen had to wait for the right moment when to step in, hence the initial attacker fought like a boxer.

“Felix! FELIX!! Goddamn it, stop it Felix, please! It’s my brother, let him go!”

Olivia attempted to cease her man’s actions, but Felix couldn’t hear none of the demands and threats, nor he felt the newspaper strokes from outside.

In the conclusion, curiously, it was Michael himself who ended the strife. As mentioned earlier, Lerwick had a hard time defending himself and almost didn’t return any of Flick’s blows. But then he saw a chance. A plant stand and a shelf full of cactuses on a wall behind it.

Through the fight, Flick’s attention weakened and when he angrily turned around to shush those annoying ”stop-it-Felix” commands, Michael collected all of his little strength and thrust him into the wall. Unsuspecting Flick was so surprised and unprepared he only managed to set on astounded face and ram into plants. And cactuses.

He bellowed like a wounded lion as the several dozens of cacti spikes got stuck in his flesh. The stabbing pain traveled through his veins like a venom. He bashed on the ground, rolling on the floor in excruciating agony. That was the first time he regretted he didn’t stay mute.

Gary Silsbury didn’t waste a second. He and his companions Luke and Carl threw themselves on quadrupedaly crawling Felix, knocked him back on ground, twisted his right arm, intending to hold him till he stops resisting. It was quite hurtful since thorns stayed on his back, sticking in Luke’s forearm.

“You arsehole. You’re able to hurt me even when you’re not moving.”Luke spluttered.

He didn’t seem to yield, though. He threshed around like a fish out of water determined to shake them off. Gary’s patience quickly petered out, but Flick still didn’t capitulate.

“I’ve had it with your shit already! Release him, fellas!”

He groggily stood up, amazed that his act of defiance had some effect, opened eyes and the first thing he saw were sharp pale knuckles one inch distant from his face.

“Jesus Christ, Silsbury, this is enough. Don’t you see he’s totally devastated?”

Aunt Norma admonished Gary as Felix collapsed on the floor once again, but now he wasn’t even moving, not to mention attempting to strike back.

“He shouldn’t have fucked with us then!”

Gary spat out and approached to herd of people fussing around his cousin.

When Michael got rid of Felix, 90% of audience hurried to raise him from dead. Moaning and lamenting folk put him into armchair while petting him, pacifying him, nursing his broken nose, checking his limbs, wiping blood of his face, taking Lord’s name in vain and imprecating “that fucking American dick”.

 “There, there Michael, he won’t hurt you anymore. Gary knocked him down.”

“Mikey, you poor thing, he should be in jail for this! Don’t worry, I’ll sue him soon enough.”

 “We must thank our Lord for stopping that abominable animal! May Lord forsake him!”

Strangely, he kept himself pretty well. Except broken nose and million bruises, he was fine.

For that kind of experience.

On the contrary, Felix Vermont was wrecked. In spite of high audacity and strength, his low endurance and bad condition causes him to collapse soon. However, the largest contribution on making him forget his first name had Gary’s fist. Cactuses as well.

No matter how swift and skilled Felix was, Gary was 4 inches taller and 30 pounds heavier.

Entirely powerless and ruined, Felix momentarily laid on cold limestone tiles, with face buried in filth and back covered with spikes. Hot blood flowing down his shoulders soaked through the white shirt and now he was red. After this whole circus his mind and body had to undergo, he was sore and immensely exhausted. Thistles were still making him suffer a great deal of sharp pain while Gary’s second strike came in version of pulsing tooth ache. Even in his mouth he could taste blood. And dirt. Eventually, it all fell on him and utterly realized what’s happened. Due to all that grievousness and enervation, his eyes filled up with tears and he couldn’t hold back cry anymore. He wept like a girl.

Meanwhile everybody was helping Mike to resurrect , rebellious wife Olivia ran to her motionless husband, checking if he’s still alive. She knelt to the ground, subtly grabbed his head and gently put it on her lap.

“Eli. Eli. It’s me, Liv. It’s alright Eli. It’s all done, no one is going to hit you anymore.”

Her calm voice was so comforting and peaceful, it worked as tranquilizer, which soothed him right away.

“Livvy. I was impaled on thousand little spears. It’s not pleasant.” He whispered sobbing.

“I know Eli. We’ll put you in bed and give you something to mitigate your pain. I’ll put on your favorite cello sonata. What do you say?”

“Uh-huh. That’d, that’d be great.”The way she talked to him made him feel like infant again.

She caressed his face, ignoring the blood, tears and dirt it was covered with. Along with the huge mess and whining people around them, this scenery strongly resembled Mother Mary holding Jesus Christ after crucifixion. Crying, bloody and sweaty he laid helpless in her arms.

It was ridiculous how placid attitude she was able to maintain, when others went bonkers. She was smiling at him softly, acting as if he just sprained his ankle, not made a gory riot in her father’s living room. Neither she asked him why.  Maybe because this wasn’t the first time it occurred.

Nonetheless, the enormous mess he made was everywhere. Like if a nuclear bomb exploded there. Both Michael’s and Felix’s blood besmirched the carpet and tiles, pieces of shattered porcelain ware were getting stepped on, chairs tumbled on the ground, lots of dirt spilled out of the broken plant pots and dangerous cactuses sat on the floor, just like that.

People’s emotions about this incident ranged from anger to enjoyment. Understandably, majority now hated Felix more than ever. Michael was satisfied. They started tiding up afterwards, together with exchanging their impressions, feelings and commentaries, still quite shocked. Even though they didn’t seem to give a damn about Flick’s injuries, and continued on caring about Mike, in core of their hearts,they felt compassion for him. Sort of.

“Carl, please pick him up and carry him to my room.”Olivia asked for help one of the thugs that sat on him during the fight. Margaret’s husband. Despite Catherine’s and other people’s thrash talk, he just silently nodded, and did as he was bid.

“Olivia. Do something with him. He doesn’t seem he’s in very good shape. Today was one funeral, and we could have another two tomorrow.” Aunt Norma kindly said. “We’re even properly dressed for it.”She jokingly added. Everyone was attired in black.

“I’ll try. He appears to have problems with behavior at social gatherings. Moreover, I’ve got to talk to Luke. I’m sure he’s furious that this happened at his mother’s funeral feast.” She mildly replied and took up Felix’s bow from the ground.

 

*  *  *

Suddenly, Felix sensed some higher force lifting him up in the air. Unexpected rapid motion made whole room spin around and his sight blacked out.


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