C-The Biggest Fan- part one

A dirty back road in the Deep South, red dust is kicking up a cloud
as six figures speed along the rain deprived track, at the front a
diminutive negro boy struggles vainly to accelerate away from his five
older pursuers, he panics as he as done time and again as he hears the
familiar cat call from four of the five.

"Coon, coon, coon, coon," they holler repeatedly with the thirst a kin
to triumphant bloodhounds homing in on their quarry. When he can hear
this call he knows the fifth one who is in front of the four is close.
The fifth is taller and older he is silent during this part of the
pursuit, focuses completely on his prey. He is a hawk who does not
perform a quick kill, he is not a predator who strikes and kills
mercifully, no he will prolong this torture. He is faster than the
other four he glides over the dirt. The little negro boy knows that,
knows that today's ordeal will now enter the second familiar
chapter.

His legs give away and dust flies, as the bigger boy tackles him from
behind. Impacting with the dirt his books fly and for a moment he is
released, he rolls in the grass; his subjugator curses, "you little
black fuck," as he falls harder. The boy looks up and four of Satan's
spawn are grinning down on him.

"Hubert!" cackles the fattest of the four, "Is he getting faster, or
are you getting slower?" The question hangs in the still summer air
unanswered, but the four step aside and let the fifth boy through, and
here is the Devil himself, taller and thinner than the other four, his
grin reveals teeth of the dead, shaped from the bone of dead animals,
his face is pallid his eyes two black empty abyss's an entrance to a
void within, his head is angular cocked to one side, thin pointed, a
child of a Necrophilic union, he hisses bile.

"Cubby my fat buddy if it wasn't for little Lyndon here, I think might
have had to put your lights out for saying such a thing. As it is I'm
content to take out my anger only on him, be grateful be very grateful
towards this young man."

They the five encircle and close in over him blotting out the
sun.

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Hubert Govern was watching his main man Lyndon McKinney dump his
fifteenth hoop of the game, Hubert was Lyndon's his biggest fan, mind
you the majority of the 15,000 spectators inside the Cheyenne Dome
might have taken issue with Hubert on this, but he would have took them
all on if they tried to take away his claim.

Holtsboro Hawks 92 Greenville Giants 75

McKinney weaved his lithe 6ft 4 frame over the court like a black sea
eel ghosting effortlessly through the rocks of the dark under water
world of the Pacific, his magic would not be contained. Before a game
McKinney could appear withdrawn and pained, but the light came on once
the game started, and his personality enveloped his stage as quickly as
a coastal miasma devours a picture frame landscape, two earnest young
guards for the Giants once fast fit hard competitive men were now
slumped like confused drunks, treading water like diaper filled babes
in their vain efforts to restrain the tidal force called Lyndon
McKinney, they were mere mortals playing on a God's own domain.

"Hot Dawwwwg!!" Screamed Hubert as McKinney deftly evaded one of the
frustrated guards once again. "Hey boy you going to have to move your
butt faster than that to stop my boy Lyn, get that 2lb of sawdust out
your pants for a start, but hey!! Maybe you just gone and done shit
your drawers boy Ha! Ha! Ha!" Hubert stood like a Cesar hailed,
spraying popcorn like fragmented shale down into the lower seats of the
auditorium, only to be met by looks of panic and fury, of subjects
looking up at a mad despot leader.

"Grind those Mother fuckers down Lyn, grind them down into the dirt
where they belong." He hollered, "If they send kids to fight their
wars, then do it, nail the sons of Bitches down, nail em down into the
ground." He then turned to the Greenville fans, and with both hands
raised he clenched his beer and popcorn as if he was the owner of the
only sustenance available in the world that day. He goaded them with
furious eyes, spittle, loose jowl and ferocious malformed stained
teeth, "Die you fucking scumbags, die," he screeched.

"Hey mister, could you please watch your language," Came a shaky voice
from behind.

"Say what?" Hubert turned to be greeted by the sullen chubby frame of
his stadium neighbour and a junior version that was obviously his
son.

"I said could you please watch you language sir, I have a child here
who has come to watch and enjoy a game, there are a lot of women and
children here to do the same, I suggest you heed my advice and calm
down a little," with every word the resolve of his intentions
disintegrated, as Hubert returned his self-pitying look with a sinister
pagan grimaced smile, Fatso was a man who'd never looked for trouble
never mind seen it.

Security guards motioned in the bleachers, alerted to the
commotion.

"Hear, hear you tell him man," came a young female's voice, " Yeah sit
down you redneck schmuck" came another call from a male, bravado was
now building in the crowd, Hubert turned angrily in the direction of
the male, only to look at 1,000 suspects angrily glaring back, cunning
he bowed like a Spanish noble, smiling like a shark begging to be
forgiven he announced.

"I am truly sorry fellow Hawkster's and Hawkette's, I just get so
excited when I see my team, I honestly do humbly apologise to you all
and I salute you as finest fans in the A.B.L," he bowed again turned
and fell back into his seat trying to give his neighbour an engaging
smile, but he probably was not forgiven.

"Names Hubert, Hubert Govern friend, pleased to meet you, (I want to
press my thumbs so hard into your skull, I want to see your eyeballs
pop out the back of your head, Lard ass) I apologise once again to you
and your boy," he offered a handshake which was taken.

"No problem Hubert we all get carried away and all, my name is Alvin,
Alvin Sapperstein and this is my son Aaron, he's Lyn McKinney's biggest
fan," gushed the father.

" My he's a fine, fine boy, (I'll take a crowbar, and split your head
open too, you fat little Jew fuck) but that's a mighty big claim your
dads making son, a mighty big claim."

"Do you like Lyn McKinney too mister?" replied the boy.

Govern's grin back was alarmingly scary "Like him you say, like him boy
I tell you I made Lyn McKinney what he is today, without people like me
he wouldn't be out there today."

The boy gazed awe struck at his dad "Dad he knows Lyn McKinney, he
knows him, wow!!"

Holtsboro Hawks 108 Greenville Giants 91

GAME OVER GAME OVER GAME OVER GAME OVER
Dude

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