How To Rape A Straight Guy by Sullivan, Michel (phonics reader .TXT) 📗

shit.  I mean, her doin’ the cunt-wagon got me to hatin’ her.  An’ every time I went to Wayne’s, I wound up with a blow job from him or Lenny an’ a hundred bucks in my pocket.  It got to where that was better than sex with her’d ever been.  I mean, not physically, but financially.  That’s all.  Same for emotionally, from either side.  In fact, the only good thing about her goin’ on the rag was, it gave me an excuse to bust out of the house.

As for Shayes, he was too fuckin’ easy.  He worked the late shift, got off at midnight or just before.  I followed him home, one night -- it was easy cake, even in the dark -- an’ wrote down his address.  Up in Woodland Hills.  Pricey, but not too much so.  I went back a couple times over the next two weeks to scope it out, an’ found out from sneakin’ a look at his mail that his full name’s Jonathan Robert Shayes.  “The third.”  An’ I caught on to how he’s got a wife an’ three kids -- two girls an’ a boy, none of ‘em in grade school, yet -- two cars an’ a membership at this gym in Van Nuys.  He’d drop off there to pump iron, shower an’ shave before headin’ to work, four days a week.  Almost like clockwork.

Wayne got a buddy of his at some TV news station to pull up some of Shayes’ arrest reports, both before an’ after our encounter.  The bastard busted a couple dozen guys over the space of a month with the same routine -- them callin’ him up, him goin’ over an’ then writin’ ‘em up or slappin’ the cuffs on ‘em.  A couple were guys from out of town.  Probably away from the Mrs. for a sales job an’ thought they’d have some fun in La-La land doin’ what they really wished they were doin’ back home.  An’ wound up gettin’ fucked over for it.  So they’d plead “no contest” an’ pay their fines as quietly as they could an’ hoped nobody’d find out.

Now, I didn’t like Shayes, no question, but I didn’t hate him, at first...not like Wayne seemed to.  Watchin’ him drive his year old Ford an’ mow his lawn in ratty old GAP shorts an’ skanky tee-shirt an’ wave at people in the neighborhood an’ play with his kids an’ his dog an’ his cop buddies when they came over for a barbeque -- he just made me tired.  Beyond belief.  He was a nothin’ guy in a nothin’ world doin’ a job bustin’ guys who tried to forget they had nothin’ lives, too.

But readin’ those reports?  Seein’ how they all read the same, almost down to the word?  Knowin’ it meant it didn’t matter what did or didn’t really happen, that when Shayes went off on his little visits, it was with the sole intention of bustin’ up somebody’s life ‘cause they weren’t what the world saw as acceptable?   Well, I started hatin’ him, too.

I started seein’ in him all the assholes who ever put me down.  Who told me how to live then turned their backs on me when I tried to be like they wanted.  Who punished me for not just lettin’ ‘em kill what little fire I had inside me.  Who let others try to tear me apart to prove I was breakable.  Who just vanished from my life.  He was those guards on my first night in prison, who put me in a cell with three beaners knowin’ full well they’d fuck me in the mouth an’ in the ass.  He was that fuckin’ minister who told me to live by God’s word then didn’t do a fuckin’ thing to help me do it when I was freed.  He was that fuckin’ dealer who gave me my first drag on a doobie then got me to workin’ for him so I could afford to keep doin’ it, ‘cause it helped me not to care.  He was Connie always ridin’ my ass ‘bout not doin’ better with my life.  He was my mom for not bein’ my mom.  He was her asshole husband.  He was fuckin’ Anthony.  He was shit, to me, an’ I was gonna show him just how shit gets treated.

An’ I was gonna make it worth prison.

We decided the best time to take the fucker was before he hit the gym.  Nobody’d notice he wasn’t there, so he wouldn’t get missed till he didn’t show for work, an’ by then we’d be havin’ our fun with him.  I had it worked out how to grab him, all Wayne had to do was drive the van.

Shayes always left his house right between one an’ one-fifteen, so me an’ Wayne were ready an’ waitin’ by that time.  I wanted us to be down by the gym, waitin’ for him there.  I knew what his car looked like an’ where he usually parked it, but Wayne had this need to see him come out of his home.  “Preparation,” he called it.  I didn’t get it.  Didn’t like it, but then he pointed out somebody might see us waitin’ for Shayes an’ get suspicious; better if we follow him like a couple guys who just happen to be goin’ the same way as him.  I still didn’t like it, but I went along.

So there we were, half a block down in an empty subdivision.  Waitin’.  I dunno ‘bout Wayne, but my heart was poundin’ an’ I could barely sit still, I was so up for it.  I kept tryin’ to figure out how things could go wrong an’ lay plans to take care of that.  My only real worry was if he had a pistol in his car.  I hadn’t seen him carry one with him to the gym, but bein’ a cop, for sure he had to have one...somewhere.  What if he pulled it