The Assassination of Jared Sanderson (Challenge No.62 winner

theskaldofturnip, January 25, 2015; 00:02 / FB 29261
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Not Turnip

Challenge 62

The Assassination of Jared Sanderson by the Coward Micah Jones

by The Skald of Turnip

The warm morning sun had burned away the dew, leaving the park fresh and clean for yet another early summer day. Insects hummed and chirped, birds sang their ballads of territorial proclamation and children squealed and giggled as they enjoyed the beginning of their three month vacation from school. It was the only park in town, but well cared for and frequented by many. The playground was overrun with younger children, watched carefully by mothers and the occasional stay at home dad. The basketball court was in use by a group of highschool boys, the girls of their clique watching from the shade of a nearby oak tree. The open field was occupied by a scattering of young women laying on towels and a pair of men playing fetch with a large labrador. All in all, it was a beautiful summer day, ripe for the picking. Micah knew today would be his day of triumph.

“Wa doin at da pawk, daddeh?” The white foal asked, head poking out of a fanny pack wrapped tightly around the boy’s waist. Suddenly the little creature wriggled, forcing the front half of it’s body free from the canvas pouch. “Am gon teach bebbeh fwy?” The pony asked, the pair of wings on it’s back practically buzzing.

“No!” The boy gasped, realizing his pet had pushed it’s way out of the bag. Quickly he pushed the little creature pack into the bag and tightened the zipper up to the pony’s chin. “No, buddy. Not learning to fly today.” The boy chided, returning his gaze to the occupants of the park. He was twelve years old, thirteen in two months. Dressed in a pressed, white button-down shirt complete with black tie and beige slacks, he looked better prepared for sunday school than he was a day at the park. “We’re looking for someone.” Micah added.

“Wookin’ fo who, daddeh?” The pony chirped, mimicking it’s adopted father’s searching stare across the park.

“Jared.” Micah murmured, his voice soft as he continued his survey. “He’s a tall boy, red hair and he has some pimples. He is probably wearing a lot of black and he has a chain on his pants that keeps his wallet from falling out.” The boy explained. Jared had been the bane of Micah’s existence for the past few weeks. Normally ignored by his peers, Micah caught the eye of the edgy teenager with his peculiar dress and pious hobbies. The adoption of a particularly feminine pet had only stoked the fire. It had started with teasing, a few names being shouted. Then when the teen’s harsh language and nasty names failed to get a rise out of his victim, things got physical. Pushed down, slapped once or twice. Never actually beaten up. Still, it was enough to torture the kind-hearted Micah.

Two days prior, Micah had given up on spending his afternoons at the park, knowing it to be Jared’s territory. When Jared tracked him down to the playground by the school, Micah realized his summer was going to be Hell. Jared pushed the boy down and took the pocket book of psalms his father had given him the prior year at the start of Bible Camp. It was promptly shredded and scattered to the wind. Micah wept openly when Jared departed, feeling his anguish and pain fester into rage and hatred. That had been two days ago. Now Micah had a plan.

“Dat him daddeh?” The pony asked, snapping Micah out of his moment of self-reflection. He glanced down to his pony, then up in the direction the creature seemed to be staring. The boy’s brow lifted in surprise as he saw the red-headed teenager riding along the sidewalk on his mountain bike.

“Yeah. That’s him.” Micah said, smiling and giving the pony a small scratch on his golden mane. He and Micah shared the same hair color, though in the summer Micah’s mother insisted he keep his fair blonde curls shaven down to a soft fuzz. “Let’s go.”

Micah caught up to Jared and two of his friends in the parking lot by the soda machines. The three teens were talking about a fourth boy who was not in attendance and mocking his attempts at ‘getting laid’ by a girl they all referred to as “Zitty Titty.”

“Yo man, isn’t that the kid you’re always fuckin’ with?” One boy asked, sitting astride his bike. Jared turned and grinned, kicking his kickstand into place and dismounting his bike. The morning light made the bully’s mouth a carnival. All shining metal braces bedecked with blue and green rubberbands.

“Hey buddy.” Jared said, his immature voice dripping with mockery. Today he wore a black t-shirt adorned with the Misfits logo and black cargo shorts. “Bring me some more reading material?” The teenager chuckled, folding his freckle coated arms over his scrawny chest. Puberty had given him a solid foot over his victim. “Oh, I see you brought your faggy little friend too. In your little faggy pack.” Jared cast a glance over his shoulder, seeing if his pun had landed. His friends chuckled a bit, seemingly out of obligation more than actual amusement. “Hey, why don’t you let me play with him?” Jared asked, his grin souring into a devious smile as he took a step toward his prey.

“No!” Micah shouted, his fists balling and feet snapping apart. “You’ll never touch Samson.” He snarled, upper lip curling into a sneer. This young man had already destroyed his self-esteem and beloved gift from his father. He was not about to harm his only friend. The little biotoy had been an end of the school year gift to their son for his academic performance. The devout evangelical christian family were experts when it came to intelligent design and the denial of climate change, but the irony of gifting their son with a man-made lifeform was lost on them.

“Nebbah touch Sassmon” The pony agreed, wriggling a hoof free of his pouch and puffing up his cheeks at the bully. “Sassmon gib biggest huwties to meenie wed fwuff hoomin.” The pegasus shouted. This caused Jared to sneer. Not only did it appear that his punching bag was growing a spine, but it seemed that his girly pet had followed suit.

“Shut up, asshole.” Jared sneered. “Give me the pony. I’m going to throw it in one of the porta potties and piss down the hole.” The teen announced, making another move towards Micah.

“No!” Screeched Micah, face turning red with prepubescent rage. Once again the bully was halted by his victim’s show of courage. “Never again! You’re done picking on me!” The boy shouted, thrusting his hand into his pocket and drawing out his chosen weapon. The length of hempen cord was woven together to form a thin braid, looped at one end with a leather cup in it’s center. A sling. One of the most ancient weapons created by human hands. The weapon that felled the giant Goliath in the hands of King David. This sling was made at bible camp the previous summer and had been used for almost an entire afternoon, making David a self-proclaimed expert on slinging.

“The fuck is that?” Jared asked, brow furrowing in confusion. “You gonna whip me? Are you Indiana Jones now?” He asked, chuckling. “Stop playing around, give me that pony I’m going to stomp it.”

“Stop!” The boy screamed, his voice shrill. A third time Jared was halted, this time by the sheer pitch of his target’s voice. Thrusting his hand into his pocket, Micah withdrew a smooth river stone the size of a ping pong ball and placed it in the cup of his sling. “Apologize to me and leave me alone forever or the wrath of God almighty shall rain down upon you.” The boy warned, spinning the sling slowly over head.

“Oh. It’s a slingshot.” Jared announced, legitimately amused by the little boy’s choice of weapon. “Okay David. Goliath’s right here. Take your shot you little shit fuck.” Jared taunted, extending his arms out and presenting a larger target. Micah faltered briefly, having not expected to actually take the shot. The sling wobbled in it’s spin, the boy fearful of the repercussions. “Do it. Do it. Do it, you won’t, pussy. Pussy.” Jared taunted.

There was a snap followed by a metallic thud and the shattering of plastic. The soda machine behind the three teenagers now bore a hole in it’s plastic window, a bottle within draining it’s foaming contents. The four boys stared at one another, Micah white-faced, Jared agape. “You little fuck.” Jared whispered, lunging forward at Micah. Squeaking in fear, the boy turned on his heel and dashed away. “Come here you fucking faggot.” Jared snarled.

Micah was in tears as he fled, his bully hot on his tail as he sped through the parking lot, weaving around parked cars. Jared’s long legs kept him on his target, his stream of obscenities and anger filling Micah’s soul with horror and dread. “Fwy, fwy, fwy!” Cheered Samson from his fanny pack, clapping his hooves together in delight at the speed. “Wub fast!”

Seeing an opportunity, Micah vaulted over the three-post fence at the end of the parking lot, landing in the long grass on the other side. The action made Samson squeal with uncontained joy while their pursuer attempted the same behind them. The Lord, Jesus Christ was there in that moment, smiling as Jared’s gangly legs caught the post and sending him sprawling into the grass in a pile of teenage rage and obscenities. Micah skidded to a stop and turned. Full to bursting with adrenaline and out of options, the boy cast about for a loose stone, seeing nothing in the untended grass. “You fucker!” Jared howeld, Getting to his feet and righting himself. A stumble or two and he found his prey. “Dead!” Was all he could muster before he started sprinting across the field.

Panic, fear and anger mixed in Micah as he desperately searched in the grass for just one stone. He was sure it was all he needed. “Fwy! Fwy, mo fwy, Daddeh!” Samson shouted, his little voice turning shrill. “Mo fwy, mo fwy!” Micah looked up, seeing the gap between himself and his doom quickly closing. He felt his hand close around Samson, pulling the little fluff ball from the safety of his fanny pack. The little ball of scientific heresy came to rest in the leather cup of the sling, giggling as Micah started to spin. “Fwy! Fwy! Sassmon wub fwy!” He giggled. Micah’s eyes focused, left arm extended, feet apart. He felt the weight in the sling spinning, spinning, his hand opening, and the load sailing free.

As Jared closed the distance between himself and his victim, his storm of obscenities and threats were cut short by Micah’s shot. Jared’s head shot back as the screaming missile collided with his face. The foal had slammed into Jared’s mouth shrieking as it’s fragile skull cracked against teeth and it’s soft flesh was torn by cruel orthodontics. The impact snapped orthodontic wires, cracked eye teeth and filled the teenager’s mouth with blood, urine and feces as the foal released a full load of terror. Micah watched in horror, pride and intrigue as the bully tried desperately to free himself of the shrieking, squirming, shitting mouthful that had tangled itself in his mess of teeth and braces. Samson did not last long, his body crushed by the force of the blow and the teen’s desperate attempts to claw the creature free stripped the little beast of his mortal coil.

Jared’s friends rode out into the field, accompanied by a group of onlookers who had heard the screams. The teenager was kneeling in the grass, his mouth a mess of broken teeth and wires. He sobbed, trying desperately to sort pieces of tooth from braces from pony shit. He gagged when he realized the bracket he had picked at the last few moments was actually a tiny white wing torn free of the missile that had destroyed his mouth. Thinking about it made him vomit into his hands, washing away his collection of tooth bits and brackets in a flood of bile.

The adults that had come to the teen’s aid were calling emergency services, coddling him and laying him back, trying their best to keep him calm.

Quietly, Micah approached the scene, stooping down the collect the broken and twisted corpse of his one and only friend. The little boy held the bloody, waste-covered wreck, his kindly blue eyes examining every unnatural twist and fold. Walking away unhindered Micah smiled a sad little smile for his fallen friend. “Thank you Samson. My little angel. God Bless you.” He whispered, closing his hand over the corpse as Jared’s howls of pain faded away behind him.