Erin Stimmler, Week Four

This Page is My Monster
By: Erin Stimmler
"The absolute strongest pickup?" Liam laughed, that deep down, from the gut laugh that tells you really what a person is thinking, not the fun laugh that Andy was used to hearing from his mother, but this time a scary one. "Is that what this shit is?" he flipped the page around so Andy could view his master-piece.
"Well yeah," Andy’s sheepish grin turned downwards bordering a frown, "you said to come up with something strong, something awesome, so I made a picture of your truck. I made it into the absolute strongest pickup ever!" the smile in his eyes created the illusion that they were dancing, up and down. His face tilted slightly up towards his father after his last statement, awaiting certain praise.
Liam glanced over the page once again. This time taking in the smooth lines of this monstrously green pickup, the color was the green glowing skin resembling the cartoon Hulk. Nothing like the shiny forest green color that currently blanketed his favorite piece of property. The picture showed claws in the place of currently stock rims, and in this case they were encased in equally extravagant tires. The grin of the man clutching the steering wheel was vicious, and he glared over the dash out the front windshield. Blocking the terrible looking gentleman’s view was set an obnoxiously shiny blower, uncannily facing the wrong direction. He glanced at the boy and Andy’s face was beginning to form a strange pinched appearance, his grin fading, eyelids quickly blinking and jaw muscles clenching under his freckled cheeks.
Liam’s scowl grew as he continued taking in his son’s drawing. There was a smallish car stuck underneath his enormous tires that appeared to have been run over and apparently on fire. How stupid, he glanced quickly at his little boy, he doesn’t even understand the idea of drawing something great. He draws this piece of crap and changes a perfectly good piece of machinery into a piece of crap! Liam didn’t know what to do, what to say. He hadn’t even seen the truck for around seven months now, and it was still going to be another seventeen. It was in fact the kids mothers idea that he should suggest he make the damn drawing, and now he has this crap to look forward to. Other guys only had to see anyone other than their lawyers. Not him, he had to go and get hitched to a Christian type and after four years and one boy he had enough. It wasn’t his plan to get trashed, that’s just the order in which things happened. What can he say anyway, this way seemed better anyway, at least that’s what he had originally thought. But she found herself a way in and now there were monthly visits and all the shit that goes along with them.
Andy didn’t need a father like him, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to miss this shit. He didn’t want the kid to burst right here in front of him. Every time he had visited with the damn kid he had asked if he could hug him before he left, so far Liam had plenty of excuses. Vicky was never all that pleased but she only said one phrase to him besides telling him to suggest something for the brat to do. "I pray every night" she would say after the forty five minutes, and usher the little fair skinned boy out of the room. Today he could picture her on the other side of the window and knew that she was growing angry at his response to Andy’s "great" artwork, as the kid had put it. I’ll put an end to these pointless fucking visits, he allowed a slow grin to grow on his face and watched as the same shift appeared in the boys, no more visits and no more pointless piece’s of crap.
"Kid seriously, tell that bitch of a mother to never bring you back here again." He stood and ripped the picture in two, directly in front of the mirror, staring all the way through the reflective glass. "You’re a pussy of a kid and I don’t want that around me you here, tuffin’ up or get the hell out of my life. You touch that truck and I swear, you won’t last ten minutes when I get out." Liam turned and faced the kid, who’s eyes bigger than golf balls leaked tears down his pale cheeks. By the time he was about to start up again Vicky was in the room, guard and all, grabbing the boy and heading for the door. Before she exited the door she swung back around.
"I’ll pray for you every night."