Bijou Hunter Quote
A loser like Larry didn’t deserve a fine vintage car like Gloria. The Corvette Stingray had been lovingly restored by a jackass who named his car, yet treated his kids like afterthoughts. I planned to lovingly tear the fucking thing apart. Have your fun then we’ll torch it and get a beer, Vaughn said, yawning. Did anyone see you? I asked just to annoy him. My question worked like a charm and Vaughn squinted disgusted at me then walked over to a large rock where he sat down and looked at his phone. Swinging the bat, I smashed out the taillight. As painful as it was to tear apart such a beautiful car, Lark needed vengeance. In my mind, I wasn’t hitting the Corvette. I was destroying every person who ever hurt my girl. Every stepfather who hit her, mocked her, and ignored her. I imagined the hung over fucker who let her little brother die. I even pictured her mother who chose the latest fuck over her own kids. I hated them all for every tear Lark ever shed. If I couldn’t hunt them down, I’d destroyed the prized possession of the latest bastard to mistreat my muse. Smashing the windows, the lights, denting the cherry red doors, I trashed the car until I was out of breath. Eventually, I grabbed a blade and tore the tires, just to finish off my rage. Wuss, Vaughn said, standing over me as I leaned against the car. Shame about Gloria. She was a beauty. I haven’t been to the batting cage in awhile. I think I pulled something Sure, Vaughn muttered, yanking me to my feet. Let’s light this little bitch up and get a beer. I need to get home to Lark. Are you fucking kidding me? I steal this car for you and don’t even get to trash it and you won’t have a beer with me? What an asshole. Please, don’t cry, I said, patting his shoulder. I don’t have the energy to hold you until your sobs turn to baby hiccups. Vaughn laughed. I miss Judd. The guy knew how to drink a beer and he didn’t mind when I pissed myself weeping like a chick. The guy is the epitome of patience, I said, picking up the container of gas. Or indifference. He always did seem a little bored when you two were talking. You looking to have me use that bat on you, is that it? Grinning, I splashed gasoline on Gloria, careful not to have the liquid hit me. Once the car was thoroughly drenched, Vaughn lit a match.
A loser like Larry didn’t deserve a fine vintage car like Gloria. The Corvette Stingray had been lovingly restored by a jackass who named his car, yet treated his kids like afterthoughts. I planned to lovingly tear the fucking thing apart. Have your fun then we’ll torch it and get a beer, Vaughn said, yawning. Did anyone see you? I asked just to annoy him. My question worked like a charm and Vaughn squinted disgusted at me then walked over to a large rock where he sat down and looked at his phone. Swinging the bat, I smashed out the taillight. As painful as it was to tear apart such a beautiful car, Lark needed vengeance. In my mind, I wasn’t hitting the Corvette. I was destroying every person who ever hurt my girl. Every stepfather who hit her, mocked her, and ignored her. I imagined the hung over fucker who let her little brother die. I even pictured her mother who chose the latest fuck over her own kids. I hated them all for every tear Lark ever shed. If I couldn’t hunt them down, I’d destroyed the prized possession of the latest bastard to mistreat my muse. Smashing the windows, the lights, denting the cherry red doors, I trashed the car until I was out of breath. Eventually, I grabbed a blade and tore the tires, just to finish off my rage. Wuss, Vaughn said, standing over me as I leaned against the car. Shame about Gloria. She was a beauty. I haven’t been to the batting cage in awhile. I think I pulled something Sure, Vaughn muttered, yanking me to my feet. Let’s light this little bitch up and get a beer. I need to get home to Lark. Are you fucking kidding me? I steal this car for you and don’t even get to trash it and you won’t have a beer with me? What an asshole. Please, don’t cry, I said, patting his shoulder. I don’t have the energy to hold you until your sobs turn to baby hiccups. Vaughn laughed. I miss Judd. The guy knew how to drink a beer and he didn’t mind when I pissed myself weeping like a chick. The guy is the epitome of patience, I said, picking up the container of gas. Or indifference. He always did seem a little bored when you two were talking. You looking to have me use that bat on you, is that it? Grinning, I splashed gasoline on Gloria, careful not to have the liquid hit me. Once the car was thoroughly drenched, Vaughn lit a match.