Frank by Jay Marvin

His high school reunion. Frank went. School; he recalled each punch, every kick, every beating administer his body. A football field pinnate smashed open with an iron rod.

The taunts and fists relentless. Frank careful on the way home. Other kids had cars Frank walked. Frank would move like he had cleats; egg shells beneath  him.

Here he was: High school reunion.

What was he doing here? Maybe Frank came to get a cheep laugh. Frank needed a cheep laugh; a good deep laugh at the expense of these human experiments gone wrong. Frank was morose. Being there was sick, twisted.

Frank stared at the dance floor-shock. Women working it on out to Jumping Jack Flash moving rolls of fat, cellulite and stretched marked  tummies. Women, ankles thick and grizzled old oak trees. Varicose veins along their legs leading to a dry honey pot. Hot, foxes morphed into women Frank didn't recognized. 

Sky Butler a homicidal fuck. Used his ball pean hammer fists to pound Frank in the ground. He was a spike wrapped in 16 year old boy flesh. Sky Butler glides towards Frank. A pot bellied shark zeroing in. His last kill. Frank picked out an exit sign.  Frank couldn’t fathom why this walking pig anus hadn’t grown up.

Parking lot. Sky Butler acted like high school part 2. Frank leaned against car fender waiting; waiting for the inevitable. 

“Same old Franklin boy,” Sky Butler nonplused, voice sliding out on butter of immature menacing. 

“Not high school,” Frank grinned, like he had a reed of straw tight between his teeth. “ Grow up you backwards child.”

Sky Butler laughed. Answered with a slap to Frank’s face made his eyes water. Sky Butler slapped the other side of Frank’s head. A hand packed with bees.

“Like high school small change.”

“Blow me,” Frank said, monotone.

A flash of night slid between them a sick, foul sheet of black glass. Frank jammed his arm through the yawing car window. Darkness dissipated yielding shafts of lamp post lights slicing through the parking lot sky. Popping open the cheap  vinyl covered glove box, the door jumping up and down from the velocity of motion, Frank popped out a 38 drilled three lead holes in Sky Butler. Thick, red syrup splattered dripped everywhere from the explosion. Man down gurgling, gasping for air, white, foaming bubbles fulminating from Sky Butler’s his chest. Gravity pulled  him to the ground.
Frank stepped over him death lingered a glinting halo over the corpse.  Frank drove off engine knocking. Frank couldn’t wait for next year’s reunion.