Little Boy Blues

Two goddamn weeks, Lewis thought. That’s how long he and his brother were going to be stuck here with Uncle Wilky. Wilky? Dumbest fucking name Lewis had ever heard in his entire goddamn life.

“This fucking sucks big time,” he said to Andy who sat across the round table, only the top of his head showing.

“Sucks big, fuckin’ time!” Andy said. He was six. He had ruffled blond hair that people always ruffled. He wished he had brown hair like his big brother who kept it combed.

“Andy, shut the fuck up...” Lewis said. He watched his brother's eyes and then his nose come into view--then disappear again.

Lewis looked at the pitcher of milk that sat in the center of the red-checkered tablecloth. The milk came from Uncle Wilky’s goddamn cow and had little bits of brown floating on top. It looked like something you'd see in an old movie.

“Cow-milk,” Lewis said with disgust.

“Fuckin, goddamn cow-milk,” Andy agreed.

“I don’t want to be here,” Lewis said, exhaling the words and looking to the knotted wood timbers above his head. Uncle Wilky will straighten you out, his parents had said. “You cuss in front of him you won’t sit down for a week…”

Uncle Wilky came in with a cup of coffee. “So, boys! What should we do today? Want to go fishing after breakfast or ride horses?”

“I don’t want to ride no goddamn horses!” Lewis said.

“I warned ya ‘bout that, boy!” Suddenly Lewis was being led by his right earlobe and a high-pitched, spine-tingling bellow ensued from outside the screen door.

When Uncle Wilky came back inside he sat down and looked at Andy. “Okay, Andy, same question; what would you like to do after breakfast?”

“Ride the goddamn horses!"

--300 Words--