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Beaver Be Damned

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"Gonna see you fellas again," Richie Grenadeau says. "One by one or all together."

It had been about two months since the day they had saved Duddits and they had all by forgotten Richie Grenadeau's threat. Plus the fact that neither of them had seen hide or hair of those big boys. They had walked Duddits to and from school, played at his house and every where else since that day, so today was just like any other. 

They were going over to Duddits and they usually went together as a group, they went everywher as a group; Henry, Jonesy, Pete and the Beav. But not today. 

Henry, Jonesy and Pete had went ahead of the Beav because he had to stay behind and help his mother with the groceries. And, just like the fourteen year old he was, he complained under his breath, the toothpick in the corner of the Beav's mouth bouncing along. 

When the last bag was finally empty, the Beav was free to go and he didn't waste a second. He was out the door, the many zippers on hi jacket jingling before his mother had time to ask anything more. It would take about thirty minutes to get to Duds place, but the Beav knew that if he cut across the park, he would be at Duddits in half that time. 

The sun was high in the sky, though the Beav wasn't hot at all. He could wear his jacket in any weather, including summer heat and the winters wind. He would wear his Fonzie jacket till it was worn into tatters, and maybe even then he'd still wear it. Beaver loved this jacket, even if it was his brothers before his; it was a part him as much as the tooth picks he chewed and his black rimed glasses. 

The Beav's old tennis shoes finally hit the soft lush grass of the park and he knew he was almost there. The park was unusually empty for a Saturday; usually there was a group of boys throwing a football, girls laying in the grass. But all there was were an old guy sitting on the bench, a few kids in a small group smoking, a couple holding hands - and a dog taking a shit. 

The Beav didn't mean to, it was just one of those things that you don't want people to see you look at, so you watch out of the corner of your eye instead - like a secret. He watched the dog take a shit. And it was that insignificant bowel movement that caused everything to come back to the day that they had saved Duddits - it flashed through him like a super fast slid show. 

Going to Hole in the Wall to see Tina Jean Schlossinger's pussy. Finding a torn shirt and yellow lunch box instead. Hearing that cry that stayed in their heads. Running towards it and finding Duddits, who was naked and beat. Watching as Richie Grenadeau tried to feed him dried dog turd. Then making a deal that they wouldn't tell if Grenadeau left them and Duddits alone. 

But it wasn't really those things that made Beaver shiver; it was the little things: 

"Hey, you guys, quit it!" he had shouted. "Just fucking quit it!" - that was what had grabbed Grenadeau's attention, what had started it all.  

Beaver had stood firm when it had looked like a fight would break out, and picked up a few rocks that were the size of eggs, only with jagged edges - and had begin to clunk them together. He had narrowed his eyes and had stared right at Grenadeau; the toothpick in his mouth had jittered aggressively up and down.  

"Come on, dickweed," Beaver had said; drawing more attention to himself when they had gotten ready for Pete to run. "I'm gonna break your nose again. What kind of chikenshit quits off the football team 'cause of a broken nose, anyhow?"  

After they had come to the agreement Grenadeau had turned back to them at the corner and gave them one on final look. "Gonna see you fellas again." Grenadeau said. "One by one," his gaze pierced Beaver. "Or all together." 

The Beav shook the thoughts away as he entered a clump of trees; there was no way he would comply with that threat, right? Beaver whipped around as he heard the dry leaves crunch. His heart was beating erratically and the little hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. There was no way that Grenadeau could be here at this very moment. 

He hadn't seen Grenadeau for two months, so how could he be here at the very moment that Beaver was alone? Once, when he had just been flipping through the channels, he came across a nature show - a lion stalking gazelles. Watching. Waiting for just one to wander from the herd before it pounced. That had to mean that Grenadeau would have to have been watching them for the past two months and the only reason that he didn't show himself then was because they had always been together. But now, Joe "Beaver" Clarendon was separated from the others. 

And that was when Beaver saw him. 

"Fuck me Freddy!" the Beav blurted in surprise as Grenadeau seemed to materialized in front of him. He took a step back in shock, the toothpick falling from his mouth. 

The Beav's head whipped back and forth, looking behind him to see if there were another behind him; there weren't, but that didn't help Beaver any - he knew that he could never take on Richie Grenadeau alone. Grenadeau gave him a very cold smile as he took a step towards the Beav. Beaver was frozen to the spot as he watched Grenadeau from behind his black rimmed glasses. 

"Hey, Fuckface," Grenadeau greeted him cooly, a ferral smile on his lips. 

"Fuck you!" the Beav spat before he turned and fled. 

He didn't get very far, but enough the he was at the edge of the clump of trees but far enough that his screams would be muffled. His legs were taken out from under him as Grenadeau tackled him. The Beav should have know that he wouldn't make it that far, but he thought it was his only chance - he had been a fool; Richie Grenadeau was a former football player after all. 

As he hit the ground, the Beav's head bounced of the ground, causing the lenses in his glasses to crack as they fell from his face. He gasped as Grenadeau roughly flipped him over onto his back and sat on his chest, pinning the Beav's arms with his knees. The Beav glared up at the blurry Grenadeau above him as he struggled feebly to escape. It was useless the Beave only being five foot four and Grenadeau being six feet and have a hundred pound on the Beav. 

Grenadeau looked down at the Beav, a sneer on the lips. "Today is the day you're gonna die, Fuckface." he didn't yell it or even said it and that was much worst to the Beav, because Grenadeau leaned and whispered it in his ears. 

The Beav might have pissed his pants then and there if he hadn't taken a leak before he left his house. The Beav struggled with renewed energy, his arms were thoroughly pinned but he kicked his legs. He couldn't really do much damage, but he felt his knees connect hard enough with Grenadeau's back to bruise. The Beav couldn't help but smile as he brought his knee back down to do it again, but he didn't get very far. Grenadeau took one look at his face and socked him right in the face. 

The Beav's head flung to the side, the smile wiped from his face as the side of his jaw throbbed. The Beav's discomfort made Grenadeau smile even wider. It turned to a sneer as the Beav turned back to face him. 

"Go fuck your mother and die, you pussy!" the Beav lifted his head as far as he could from the ground and spat right in Grenadeau's face. 

The Beav held his breath as Grenadeau sat back and slowly wiped the Beav's spit from his face; vaguely, the Beav notice that Grenadeau's nose had healed. Grenadeau wiped the Beav's spit on his hand on the sleeve of his many zippers, biker jacket. The Beav sneered at him, but he never saw the fist coming straight for his face. 

And it hurt like a mother-fucker! 

"Oh, no, I think I'll fuck your mother instead." Grenadeau punched him again. "And then I'll kill your faggy little friends one by one after you." punch. "First the blond," punch. "then the red-head and brunette." punch. "And lastly, I'll fuck up the retard so much, he'll wish he died along with you and your fags instead!" punch, punch, punch! 

The Beav's head felt like it was going to explode, that was if Grenadeau didn't crush it first. It hadn't been right fist, left fist, right fist; if it had been, Beaver thought that that would have been better. But instead it was right fist, right fist, right fist; nine puches in total. The whole right side of the Beav's face was just a pulp; his right eye was sealed shut, bruised and swollen. His eyebrow was cut as well as his cheek was cut, bruised and bleeding. His nose was broken in multiple places and was bleeding like a faucet. His lips were shredded and bleeding, his teeth were red and there was blood coming from the corner of his mouth because he had bitten his tongue and cheeks. The Beav groaned in pain as he shook his head back and forth, he was finding it hard to breath with the fat ass Grenadeau sitting on his chest. He glared at Grenadeau's grinning face through his one good eye, before he spit the blood that had collected in his mouth once again in Grenadeau's face. 

And this was the thing that had scared the Beav the most so far. As the Beav's blood splattered on his face, Grenadeau had done the reasonable thing, he had closed his eyes and his head jerked back a little. But when he opened his eyes again and looked down at the Beav with his face covered in blood, his eye looked black, hollow, dead. All of it, like he had no soul - possibly having just made a deal with the devil. The Beav tried to brace himself for another punching bag session. 

By that wasn't what happened. 

Instead, Grenadeau pushed himself off of the Beav's chest and stood up, with his head down he took a couple of steps away. Beav was to shocked to move and he regretted that a few seconds later. Grenadeau lifted his head towards the sky that was blocked off by the canopy above before he suddenly swong around and laid a hard kick into the Beav's side. Beaver yelped in surprise and pain as he rolled with the kick; he knew almost instantly that Grenadeau had cracked a rib. 

Before Beaver could do anything, Grenadeau laid another kick on him, this time on his back as the Beav curled on his side in the fettle position. Kick after kick was laid into him and this time they were spread around: legs, butt, back, head and the hand that the Beav used to try and protect his head. Ribs were being broken and cracked, bones fractured, fingers broken and bruises blooming. When Grenadeau was finally done, Beav was barely conscious. Grenadeau roughly turned Beaver back onto his back, his arm falling on the ground. Grenadeau smiled, more to himself than any thing as he look at Beav's arm for a second before he lifted his leg into the air and brought his foot down very hard over the Beav's fragile bones. The snap was so painful that Beaver's body jerk and he opened his mouth to scream, but that pain was so sharp that nothing but the air from his lung burst out. 

Everything went dark as he blacked out. Coming to, Beav heard the faint whisper of a zipper and squished up his face as it was pattered by warm liquid. Grenadeau laughed as he pissed on Beaver. By the time he was finished, Beaver’s hair and face as well as his zipperful jacket were covered. Beav coughed and retched as the smell of urine went up his nose and down his throat. Grenadeau cackled at this as he tucked himself back in and zipped up again. 

"Don't worry," Grenadeau mocked. "Where you're going, you won't be lonely for long because you little group of Fag's are gonna join you soon enough." and he once again drew back his leg before bring in forward and kicked Bearer in the temple with a brutal force. 

Beaver’s head jerked to the side and stayed there; his temple was split open and blood was running freely across his face before soaking into the dirt ground. Grenadeau watched Beaver's chest intently for a moment. Watched as it rose and fell before never coming up again. He spit on the Beav's jacket before walking calmly away as if nothing to this content had just happened. 

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