The Nervous Kid

He scared easily.  He had always been nervous and when his “friends,” needed to feel superior (which was often) they would devise ways to scare him.  You know the usual stuff.  Keep him distracted and then one of them would fall asleep with the inability to wake up. 

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He had always been nervous and when his “friends,” needed to feel superior (which was often) they would devise ways to scare him. The usual stuff; keep him distracted and then one of them would fall asleep with the inability to wake up.  The nervous kid would panic after telling them to stop it and quit screwing around.  They knew the nervous kid would always succumb because hey it could happen.  One of them might fall asleep and one of them might not wake up.

The usual scenario; one would slump over, pretend to sleep but fall asleep while the others distracted the nervous sidekick.  Perhaps the sleeper wrapped himself up too tightly or became too warm or board and fell asleep, it happens.  So, the nervous kid is running around and when he has his back turned the others are sniggering and the guy who is pretending isn’t pretending anymore.

It’s like all the guys are sitting around and yakin’ it up eating the nervous guy’s snacks while he’s sneaking around his parent’s house looking for contraband.  Yeah, that’s the way all pranks happen.  The nervous kid is searching his parent’s house looking for odds and ends of booze he knows his parents don’t have the money to buy.  He might find his grandfather’s bottle of bourbon from 100 years ago but the seal is still on it, so no way can he take that down to them.  Or he might find cooking sherry that his mother thought she might need for a recipe for a bunch of snooty ladies.  That small little party where she planned to get to know his friend’s parents.  They showed up, but it was real stiff.  None of the other moms invited the nervous kid’s mom to the garden club or to tennis lessons–not that she’d take the time off work and go, right?

So anyway, here’s this kid, he’s sneaking around the house and his buddies are like snickering and laughing and then take a swing at the sleeping guy and the sleeping guy just sort of falls over,  wooden-like.  They laugh and tell the guy–hey he’s in the house looking over his lousy parent’s cheap stash of booze so knock it off but the sleeping guy’s expression is like frozen on his face.  He’s like looking at the person who sees hell coming.

The nervous kid’s buddies sort of sober up but still knock the sleeping kid about a little.  What happened, they joke with the sleeping guy, did the nervous kid’s snacks harden your arteries, or did they like numb every nerve ending in your body?  What crappy food where do they shop the dollar store?  Still nothing but a blank terrified stare from the sleeping guy.  The sleeping guy is like looking but his eyes are not moving but you get the impression he is seeing and hearing everything but he can’t move.

Then there’s that moment when everything is silent, all the guys say nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  The house is creepy quiet, not even the sound of the nervous kid shuffling around in his parent’s dusty cupboards looking for something that is not there.

What the hell, right?

So, these guys they whisper all at once and calling the sleeping guy by name and they notice their voices don’t sound like a bunch of rich smart asses in a middle-class home.  Yeah, now they sort of sound like a bunch of whiny, tall skinny guys in a shit load of trouble.  Did he have drugs, what’s his parents going to say?  Hey, man I didn’t give him shit.  Should we go, crawl out the window and blame it on the nervous kid–hey where the hell is he, anyway?   Yeah, that’s what they’d do, ditch the sleeping guy and blame it on the nervous kid–he can explain an overdose, he has nothing to lose.

So, they gather all their stuff and wondering how they will make it look like they were never there and then they think about a plan they left early.  That the nervous kid and the sleeping kid hung out after they left.  Yeah, that’s what they’d say.  The nervous kid he had some wicked stuff and these pristine assholes didn’t want any part of that because what would their well-to-do parents say to that?  Yeah, so they left, maybe it was wrong, they should have called the cops right away but hey they were friends.  Friends don’t do that.  Right?

So, the nervous kid comes down to a trashed basement and a wooden looking guy curled up on his parent’s couch and the back windows open where his “friends,” scurried out the window.  The nervous kid shuts the windows, cleans up the mess, even sweeps the floor.  The nervous kid’s mom comes down and check’s the sleeping kid’s pulse and looks into his eyes.

“It should wear off by morning.”

“Did you call his mom?”

“Yeah, told her he was staying over tonight, that you were playing video games.”

“So Mom, what would you have done if they’d had not tried to stiff me?”

“Oh I was sure they would run like scared rabbits but if they had tried to do the right thing I’d have slipped him the quick cure.  He’d have puked and shat for a few hours but they’d have blamed it on our ‘crappy food.’

“Look, I think he’s actually falling asleep.”

“He won’t remember a thing in the morning, might have a slight headache.  Do you think we should tattoo something on his ass?”

“Nah, I prefer the subtle dump.”

Author: SK Woodiwiss and SW Woodiwiss

We are writers. We love flash fiction, short stories, poetry, and novels. We love to write ghost stories but have tried our hand at simple conversations, inner fears and peeked into the madness of the mind. Our greatest love is the novel and its ability to explore character development. We simply enjoy the writing process.

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