SMACK! One down, two to go., Al smiled murderously at the other two drunks that were still alive. They stared at the red-eyed American in utter fear.
"It's the devil! The devil has come to kill us!" They screamed like a bunch of idiots. The chubbier one stumbled over the skinny one as they began to back up, resulting in both of them landing on their asses. Al snickered, and spun the nailed bat between is his middle and pointer finger as he slowly advanced towards them.
“I’m not the devil you dumbasses. More like your worst nightmare.” He sneered. With only two swings of his bat, both drunks were lying dead and bloodied on the concrete floor of the alley. Al sighed, while casually wiping some smeared blood of his face and walking behind one of the dumpsters where a crying little girl (around three years old) was huddled up, hiding her face in her hands.
“Yo, kiddo, you okay?” The American asked awkwardly, crouching down to her level. He wasn’t exactly good with kids. The girl looked up at his with her big watery (e/c) eyes, taking in everything from the blood smeared on his face to the nailed bat he was holding. Al expected her to cry, to run away screaming bloody murder, but instead the child stood up and gave him a hug. Her tiny arms barely made their way around his neck, but she didn’t care. The red-eyed American tensed for the slightest second before letting a small smile come to his face. This was new, but it was a good kind of new.
“Hey kid, you got a home?” Al asked, only to get a shake of the head.
“Er, you got a name?” Another shake of the head. The American grinned.
“You got that guy’s wallet?” He pointed to one of the dead drunks, earning a nod from the little girl.
“Atta girl!” Al laughed, ruffling the child’s hair. She let out a cute giggle, and smiled from ear to ear. That was when the red-eyed American decided that he was going to have a daughter.
Ten Years Later...
Just A Normal Day
“I’m home!” You called, walking through the door, and dropping your bag on the floor of the foyer. Harley, your four month old, 124 pound rottweiler, came running tackling to the ground with his excessive licking.
“Ahahaha, Harley, down boy!” You ordered trying to push him off you. He barked happily, wagging his tail with his tongue sticking out.
“Would you keep that damn dog quiet? He’s interrupting my game.” Matthew called from the living room, turning the game at least twice as loud.
“Sorry Uncle Matt!” You called back, feeding the dog a treat and letting him outside for some fresh air. You walked into the living room, plopping down next to the grouchy Canadian and watching the hockey game. Matthew threw an arm around your shoulder, giving you a quick kiss on the head, before his eyes darted back to the TV.
“My money’s on the Rangers.” You whispered to your uncle after a moment or two. He gave a dry laugh.
“Oh yeah? How much you got?”
“Five-hundred give or take. Double or nothing?” You offered, holding your hand out for him to shake. Matt gave a smirk.
“Deal. Bruins are killing so far.”
Two Hours Later...
“WOO HOO! GO RANGERS!! YOU SCORE THAT GOAL RICKY!” You screamed at the TV jumping up and down on the couch. Matthew stared at the flat-screen silently, his left eye twitched in utter furiousity. Once you quieted down, you gave the Canadian a quick hug.
“Aw, is mwy Uncwle Mattie mwad that he wost the bet?” You teased, in a baby voice. Matt stayed still, but clenched his fists in annoyance, the odd curl on the side of his head shook angrily, causing you to giggle.
“I’m just kidding.” You said through your fit of laughter, giving your uncle a quick kiss on the cheek making him calm down a little.
“But I expect those five-hundred dollars in my bank account by the end of this week.” You smiled proudly, until the door opened.
“God dammit, what the hell’s wrong with this mut?!” A familiar voice shouted, almost overpowering the barking and growling of Harley. You jumped out of your seat and glared angrily at your dog.
“Harley, sit!” You yelled in a demanding tone. The rottweiler stopped attacking the American, and slowly walked up to you with an apologetic whimper. You fed him another treat and told him to go to your room.
“I swear to God. One day you’ll come home from school and that dog will be murdered in the front yard.” Al muttered angrily, causing you to giggle.
“You said the same thing about my goldfish.” He grinned, picking you up from the ground and spinning you around in a back-breaking hug, as you laughed.
“Merry Christmas Uncle Olly~” You chirped sweetly letting the Brit into your house, before giving him a hug.
“How’s my poppet been doing, hm? Has your dumbass father been taking good care of you?” Oliver asked.
“I heard that, you damn hippie!” Al called from the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge and taking a seat at the dining table with Matthew and Francois. Five minutes into dinner, and your dad and three uncles began to argue about the best way to murder people.
“I say just beat zhem to a pulp. It’s a good workout and zhe jackass dies slowly and painfully.” Uncle Francois argued, while smoking a cigarette and leaning back in his chair.
“Are you kidding me? Stabbing is the easiest. Just sitting there and watching the asshole bleed to death is entertaining.” Uncle Matt interjected, while Al laughed dryly.
“I’d prefer using my bat, thank you.” He stated simply before taking another swig from the beer can and crushing it in his hands, chucking it into the garbage can at least ten feet away.
“I think poisoning the wanker would most certainly do the trick better than all your unoriginal killing methods.” Oliver interjected, smiling creepily from ear to ear. The four men yelled and cursed while getting out of their chairs to strangle each other. Your eyebrow twitched in annoyance, before you slammed the knife down in the table, puncturing the wood, while creating a loud BANG. Your uncles, and your dad looked at you in surprise.
“How about this? First you drug the guy with one of Uncle Olly’s famous cupcakes, then begin to beat him to the pulp because he’s too out of it to fight back. Beating him does include hitting him with a nailed bat by the way, and if he’s still alive stab him repeatedly, and watch the blood spill out. Does that work?!” You yelled at them. There was a moment of silence before all of them muttered approval to your method and sat back down at the table. You smiled cheerfully as if nothing happened.
“Now who’s up for dessert?” You asked, standing up and walking into the kitchen to put their dishes away. You poked your head back in the dining room with a smirk on your face.
“Besides, just shooting them with a gun would be the easiest thing to do.” The comment caused the argument to start all over again.
You slowly unlocked the front door, and trudged inside. Your eyes were watery and red, smearing the small amount of makeup you’d put on for your first date. It was late at night and most of the lights were off in the house, making you think that Al was asleep. You went upstairs and changed into pajamas, while washing off your mascara. Harley was fast asleep on your bed leaving no room for you. But you couldn’t sleep anyways, so you slowly made your way downstairs and into the kitchen.
“Dad?” You said in a hoarse voice. Seeing the red-eyed man rummaging through the fridge. He looked up to the sound of your voice with a smile, which quickly faded into a scowl when seeing your tears.
“What did that bastard do?” He asked engulfing you in a hug, which you quickly returned as you sobbed into his black bomber jacket.
“I-it was going good for the first h-hour. And he s-said he had to g-go out to make a phone call. H-he didn’t come back after a while, s-so I walked out to s-see what he was doing. And I saw him making out with some brunette whore!” You cried, letting your tears soak his T-shirt. Al held you like that for a little while longer before, letting you go and smiling down at you.
“You wanna beer?” He asked, and you smiled back. After a few moments of talking with your dad, he sighed angrily.
“I’m going to kill that little prick.” Al growled, causing you to smile softly.
“You don’t have to, but thanks for the offer dad.” You put your can of beer on the counter and gave him another hug.
“Love you, kiddo.”
“Love you too, dad.” There was a moment of silence before you felt a pair of lips press against your head.
“Where’d you hide the body?”
“Dumpsters.” You felt Al smirk.
School Night Rules
You sat at the kitchen table, staring at your Trig homework, while pinching the bridge of your nose. Almost done. I just have physics left after this, you thought happily. You were already tired, since you had a hockey and baseball game earlier today. The house was thankfully peaceful, because Uncle Matt hadn’t come over today, and your dad was God knows where. You weren’t worried though, he always came home somewhat alright. Maybe just an occasionally punched out tooth or dislocated shoulder, but nothing serious. Suddenly, the front door burst open and you looked up in surprise.
“Ohh~ Al! Ah~” A woman’s voice moaned, causing you to scowl. Quietly getting up from your spot on the table, you hid behind the staircase and peeked your head out slightly to see what was going on. If you’d eaten dinner, you would’ve barfed it up, watching your dad pin some red head to the wall and make out with her. His hands felt her up, while kissing her face, lips and neck. The lady continued to moan loudly, which started to irritate you. It was too gross to watch anymore, so you stormed out from your hiding spot and pushed Al away from the woman. Grabbing a fistfull of her hair and dragging her to the front door. She yelped in pain, once you threw her onto the front porch.
“Call me!” She yelled to the American, before you slammed the door shut. With a sigh you mustered the best glare at scowl you could, and turned around to confront your father. Seeing your face, his frown turned into a look of fear.
“Dollface?” No response, just a death glare.
“No. Just no.” You interrupted him, “This is the eighth time this month you broke the rule! How many damn time do I have to remind you dad? NO SLUTS ON A SCHOOL NIGHT!!!!” You yelled, causing Al to back up and stumble on the staircase.
“I’m scarred for life. I won’t be able to sleep for the rest of my days.” You mumbled to yourself, feeling nauseous by the very image. Walking back to the table, you paused, glaring back at your father.
“GO TO YOUR DAMN ROOM!!”
“Alright! Alright woman! No need to shout.” Al muttered, trudging up to his bedroom, while you stood there until hearing his bedroom door shut.
“_______, it’s time to open your presents!” Oliver chirped, leading you into the living room where five presents were piled up on the coffee table. You licked the rest of the blue and pink frosting from your fingers before running to the couch with your uncles and dad slowly following behind.
“Wow, you guys are the best! They’re so many! Where should I start??” You questioned, looking at the neatly wrapped gifts. Uncle Francois bought you a flask for alcohol, a pack of cigarettes, and a swiss army knife. Uncle Matt got you a hockey stick that was used by Taylor Pyatt from the Rangers. Uncle Olly got you a cookbook where he wrote down all the different poisons you’d use in each dessert. And your dear father got you...
“A gun?!” You stared at the Smith & Wesson 22 caliber handgun in your hands, a smile making it’s way to your face.
“If you don’t like it, I could buy a-”
“I FREAKIN’ LOVE YOU, DAD!” You said, after you glomped him. The red-eyed man laughed, hugging you back.
“Tonight we’ll go and try it out. Whaddaya say?” He smirked, as you nodded happily. Once you were done thanking everyone for the gifts, Uncle Francois point out something.
“You’ve got one left, mon cherie.” He pointed to a flat looking rectangular present rapped a little messily. You stared at it curiously, Who could this one be from/, you thought to yourself. You began to slowly unwrap it, slowly finding out it was a book. The cover read, To The Semi-Sane One In Our Family, causing you to smile. Inside was a bunch of photos from when you were four to currently, all of them either with friends or family. The last page had little notes from your uncles, saying happy birthday and that they loved you. You started to slightly tear up and then noticed something.
“Dad, where’s your note?” Al smiled, and closed the book, so the back of it was facing you. The words were written in your dad’s messy handwriting, but you were able to make out the two words.