13

Jump to the moments just after the public humiliation of Weezer Westfall. In a rolling desk chair of crimson leather, Coach Edward Gregson glowered at his star quarterback with an embarrassment usually reserved for the black sheep of a family. On the couch opposing the desk, Weezer had an ice pack over his right eye and he was still wincing at the loss of his aiming eye. In this macho microcosm of American society, humiliation at the hands of anything female is tantamount to a death sentence. Coach Jerkoff munched mightily on a morsel of peppered beef jerky.

            Coach Gregson huffed through the chewing, "You really set back mankind a few thousand years, Weezer!"

            Weezer recoil at the lashing. He defended himself through the tears, "It wasn't my fault, coach! I put that little weakling in his place! I never expected his little skank to knock me senseless!"

            Coach Gregson swallowed the jerky, put his arms on the desk and rose from chair. He pressed his hands against the cheap wood like he did the previous morning.  Coach Jerkoff would give Officer Bud White a run for his money at the rate he was going. He let off for a moment and wandered toward Weezer. Weezer shuddered for a second because he hadn't his coach that enraged before. Gregson kneeled before his star player and patted him on the head.

            Coach Gregson voiced soothingly, "You're right, Rob, you never saw it coming. Dawson deserves to be punished for this. In all honesty, he deserves it for all this. He should be reprimanded severely."

            Weezer inquired even though his eyes were still teary, "What do I do?"

            Coach Gregson sneered broadly, "Stay the course, Robby. Find a way and I mean any way to avenge our little system. Violating the team rules requires team involvement in handing down the punishment. Use as many players as you have to. Any amount of due force is necessary to make the point. Catch my drift, Weezer?"

            Weezer had to ask only one question, "Can the amount of due force range from crippling to bone-crushing?"

            The coach just nodded his approval. Weezer arose from the couch and left the office without drawing attention to himself. After the door closed, Coach Jerkoff arose from the floor and traipsed toward a rusty storage locker. The locker door squeaked open due to rusty hinges. His left arm reached for the top shelf and he retrieved a picture frame. He leaned against the locker and stared rabidly at the portrait. It was a stare of utter and rabid hatred. Without haste, he made his way to the wall directly behind the desk. He hung the portrait from a solitary nail that was reserved for a final season picture. He moved back to his chair and glared at the portrait for an extended period.

            He broke the silence, "I've put you to bed, my love. The pillow shall soon be applied and then it will be done. Peace will be mine once again." He turned around and went back to working on the week's upcoming game plan.

            Skip ahead to two hours and some change after the synchronized milk-dump.  To make a long story short, the afternoon was a repeat of the morning. In his milk-splattered, rank-smelling clothes, he threw his books in his locker and shut it slowly. He stared at the lockers on the other side of the hallway and sighed loudly. Everyday that he lived through was more horrifying that the one before and it would go on that way forever. He looked up and down the hallway wondering if Weezer or any other offender was in the vicinity. Captain Asthma hadn't been around at all that day and it was even more surprising that Coach Jerkoff hadn't been around, either. Kyle slowed his breathing a little bit and made the long march to the locker room. He knew practice that day would be as debasing as the just completed school day. He footed it to the locker room door and didn't hear any sort of chatter behind it. He slowly opened the door but the silence had intensified. He put one foot in front of the other and the door closed behind him.  He only saw a set of wall-bound lockers through another doorway.

            A hefty object landed at Kyle's stomach as his left foot broke the threshold of doorway. He fell flat on the ground and coughed up blood. The pain that shot through Kyle's midsection was unlike anything he felt before. He cried out like a tortured prisoner. His eyes were closed, his mouth wasn’t smiling.  He turned his head to the left and revealed his eyes. He saw a black football cleat with three white stripes on the tongue. The cleat suddenly whipped back and then forward into Kyle's gut. Sharp pain coursed through Kyle's body at warp speed.

            A familiar voice boomed, "That is for your refusal!"

            Another strong shot went to Kyle's gut.

            The voice blasted a second time, "That is for your b***h!"

            A third cleat shot came and went.

            The voice cracked a third time, "That is for me!"

            A fourth and final cleat shot came and went.

            "As my daddy always says, '…and one to grow on'," The voice sounded with a sadistic laugh.

            Weezer stood back against the doorway and laughed like a vile scientist.  He was sporting a nice shiner over his right eye. Wings and Moby were laughing heartily as well.  All the boys were dressed in their practice gear sans helmets on their noggins. Weezer held a yellow football helmet in his left hand. Wings and Moby looked at their best friend after they saw Kyle convulsing and coughing up blood on the floor. Weezer took his helmet and swung it in front of himself at full-tilt.  The three seniors laughed harder as Kyle tried to make sense of what had just happened. He didn't move an inch for fear of reprisal so he stayed motionless as the team captains remained there with him.

            "I hope he stays down for the count. That little s**t-for-brains has cost this team a lot of unneeded heartache," Moby stated.

            "That's a narrow view, Moby. He has caused this town a whole shitload of unneeded heartache!" Wings screamed next to Kyle's left ear.

            "Thanks to him, I can't play again until my eye is healed up. Not only that, I am going to violate his little b***h until she sees who the real man around here is!" Weezer bent over and put his mouth next to Kyle's left ear.  "You hear that, you little m**********r! She is going to be clinically brain-dead by the time I am done with her!"

            His soul was screaming to fight back but his mind was trying to keep that lid tightened for the time being.  He wanted Weezer to have a Viking funeral and the offender would be tied to the main mast as it occurred. He remained motionless and Weezer backed away from his ear. With a smile that only wickedness could know, Weezer did it and said something that he would forever regret.

            Weezer proclaimed contentedly, "It makes me sad that the coach couldn't see this. Putting me up to this was the greatest thing the he ever did."

            Moby and Wings were either too stupid or too indifferent for the remark to disturb them. The boys walked out of the locker room still laughing about Kyle's unholy misery. As the boys left, Kyle's mind and soul came together in agreement and an unbelievable hysteria wholly took him over. The frenzy driving him, Kyle managed to get himself to his hands and knees. Time was of no issue to him anymore since his fate was sealed.

            Time was moving at a turtle's pace and Kyle made his way on all fours to the toilet.  He puked up a pint-and-a-half of extra blood. He got to his feet and rinsed his mouth out several times under the faucet. Every step he took toward his locker was agonizing but the acerbity from the entire event kept him going. Within seconds, he had the tarnished pigskin in hand. He stared out the nearby glass door to the football field.  The three captains were leading the rest of the squad in calisthenics. He clenched his teeth until they hurt. With the same lumbering pace, Kyle footed it outside to make his amends. A pair of eyes and ears had been privy to the entire discourse in the coach's office. She had to reveal it to somebody close to her.

            He surveyed the scene before him. Each helmet-less captain lead a line in before-practice workouts and Weezer was at the head of the middle line. To the left, the coaching staff was scrutinizing new defensive schemes. Putting the scenery aside, Kyle focused in on the leader of the middle calisthenics line. His adrenaline output went directly into hyper drive. From twenty yards out, Kyle made a throw that would do Jonny Moxon proud and he shouted Weezer's name as loud as he could.

            Weezer never saw it coming.  As he turned in the direction that begged his attention, the pigskin that was rightfully his came down hard on his nose. The shock of the blow knocked him down. Weezer rolled over onto his stomach, putting his right hand to his nose. The entire team ran over to comfort their battered leader. Kyle looked on feeling satisfied for a thin second but it was easily broken. Not skipping a beat, Coach Gregson had grabbed Kyle by the collar and was dragging him back into the school.  They didn't make eye contact but Kyle knew that the coach was beyond rational anger.

            They made long, quick march to Coach Gregson's office. With unparalleled force, Coach Jerkoff threw Kyle onto the couch opposing the desk. The coach stared over Kyle like a vulture waiting for the last breath. So wrathful was the coach that Kyle felt he would be a victim of more physical reckoning. The coach eased back on his desk but his nostrils were still flaring and his eyes were still piercing.

            "You are done, Dawson! You are off my team and you broke one of my cardinal rules! I made it extremely and severely clear in the preseason meeting that if anyone was caught breaking one of my cardinal rules, they would be in the position you currently find yourself!" Coach Gregson stated with venom. 

            There was dead silence for several seconds.

            "He broke it as well by physically hurting me. There is blood on the floor on the locker room. He smashed me with a heavy object and kicked me in the gut four times!" Kyle voiced painfully.

            The coach then smiled widely, "I guess you got what you deserved then.  I heard what Mary Steele did to Weezer. Kind of cowardly that a woman defended your sorry a*s, wouldn't you say?"

            Kyle thought evil things but he didn't move. 

            Coach Gregson continued his spiel, "By the way, Dawson. Your antics as of late have violated more than my own team policy. The legal system will have its way with you and then some. If you leave that spot, I will have the team chase you down and flog you publically. Got me, dickmunch?"

            A picture of a tall cliff came into Kyle's head and he was standing at the edge of it.  The coach moved back to his desk chair and put the phone to his ear as Kyle scanned the office. There were photographs on every wall and football memorabilia on every flat surface. One photo immediately caught his attention. On the wall facing opposite the couch was a photograph of a bride and a groom. Kyle's eyes began jumping back and forth from the picture and the coach's face. Horror swept through him like a runaway train and he dry heaved. The coach noticed Kyle's behavior and immediately put the phone down. The town police had yet to pick up on the other end.

            "What the f**k is up with you?" Gregson asked with resentment.

            Kyle pointed to the back wall and Gregson turned his head.  He looked long for several seconds and then turned back to Kyle.

            "Well, how did that get up there?" Coach Gregson queried back mockingly.

            "Why?" Kyle simply asked.

            The coach retorted, "Why what? I am not a f*****g mind reader, Dawson."

            Kyle entered his reply, "Why did you do this to me?"

            Coach Gregson shrugged, "I didn't do anything to you. You brought this on yourself."

            Kyle nearly foamed at the mouth, "No, I am not deaf! I succinctly heard Weezer say, 'It makes me sad that the coach couldn't see this.  Putting me up to this was the greatest thing he had ever did.'"

            Coach Gregson leaned back his chair and contemplated his immediate options.  He stared back at the picture and then back at Kyle.

            The coach brought forth his trademark sneer and played the deny-yet-threaten card, "Let's just say this. You can't prove anything beyond a reasonable doubt. All you have against me is the word of a rather rash quarterback. That could be taken a million different ways. You don't know what he meant and if I ever hear you mention this…"

            Kyle immediately lanced back, "Will you allow your followers take me out with football helmets as opposed to bear hands?" 

            Gregson was about to answer when Kyle lifted his hand, "I am not that stupid, chickenshit, and my view will prevail here. Weezer is your f*****g lap dog and I know he sucks up to you more than anybody else on that team and everybody can see that! I won't ask again! Why was this allowed to happen to me?"

            Gregson realized that his empire had a crack in its armor. He asked in a mellow voice, "Ever been jaded?"

            "What?" Kyle asked with a raised eyebrow.

            "Jaded? Jilted? Dumped on?" Gregson replied.  Kyle grimaced at the last question and Gregson laughed slightly.

            "I was once," he stated with contempt. "That b***h in the picture dumped me without a care in the world. I was married to your mother for not even a year when I found out she was cheating on me with that dumbass. From what I could see, she took to him because he was the sack master."

            Kyle nearly gagged after hearing that soliloquy. Tears started to flow as the coach smiled without remorse.

            Gregson resumed his sickening speech, "We were both seniors in college when it all happened. It wasn't long before I kicked her to the curb and it wasn't long after that she moved in with your father. She was happier than a honey bee in a flower shop and I was left in the throes of hatred for all things coupled. I desperately loved Danielle and I was embittered to no end when she jaded me. To this day, I still haven't forgiven her for what she's done."

            The coach leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the desk.  Kyle looked toward the door and the coach saw the maneuver.

            Coach Gregson showed his sneer once more, "Don't even try it, dickmunch! You are here until I say you can leave!"

            Kyle countered furiously, "F**k you, Coach Jerkoff!"

            "No, f**k you, Dawson, and stay the f**k seated!" Gregson bellowed.  "Steal my enjoyment one more time and you will taste a wrath that even I've never been privy to!"

            Kyle did as he was commanded.

            "Do you know why you didn't see me this morning?" Coach Jerkoff asked in a softer but still menacing tone.

            "No!" Kyle replied.

            Coach Jerkoff smirked but remained looming, "I told Weezer that he could get his game ball back by any means necessary. We have a mutual understanding of sorts when it comes to dealing with you. I let him do the grunt work and I looked on through one of the many eyes that monitor this school."

            His suspicions had been answered and a greater seething than before began to take root.

            "I came to this town over sixteen years ago to escape my past but the longing for Danielle has always stayed with me. You couldn't believe how much suffering I had to go through when she came here three years back. She came here with Aaron and you, the two men who should never have been with her," Coach Jerkoff willingly revealed and then smiled horribly. 

            Kyle tried not to let it affect him.

            Coach Jerkoff made a strange query, "How did I end my pain you might ask?"

            Kyle gave his own remarkable leer.

            "How else do you go after a wild animal?" Coach Jerkoff inquired rhetorically.

            The youngster still maintained his composure and the coach clearly expected it.

            Coach Jerkoff put it forward simply, "The offspring, that's how."

            On the table to the right of the sofa was a trophy.  It was Coach Gregson's first Coach of the Year Honor. He had received the prize in honor of bringing Mayfield its first undefeated season. Kyle darted his eyes to the right and then back at the coach.  Coach Jerkoff was too deep in his own personal satisfaction to notice Kyle's countenance.

            Coach Jerkoff did his best imitation of a noise machine, "I know your smart, Kyle. I am sure that to you can figure the rest of the story. So, sit, mull, and stay quiet or else things will get ugly-ugly.  Do you comprehend anything I say, dickmunch?"

            Still slow burning for escape, Kyle lingered until the proper moment.  Coach Jerkoff pasted his attention once more on the telephone. He picked up the receiver as a solid object sailed by his left ear. The unexpected fly-by prompted the coach to fall out of his chair. The object crashed back against the left wall. The coach was on the floor with a bruised head and his prized trophy on the floor. Kyle fled the scene and out of the school.