The Devil's Right HandHis name was Fred, but he made everyone call him “Biggy” after his favorite rapper. I never did, guess that was one of the reasons why he picked on me so much.The Devil's Right Hand1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
Fred was a bully, no, a tyrant. He got his pleasure from stamping his size 8 ½ boot heel on flesh he deemed to tender for the grounds of Kilgore Junior High School. He found mine to be exceptionally ripe for the branding.
Fred was at his usual spot under the basketball hoop closest to the boy’s locker room. Why my bus driver insisted on dropping us off in the back of the school by the blacktop, I did not understand. But we simply had to accept it because he only knew enough English to swear at the car in front of him and yell at us to “shit doune”.
I sighed heavily and dragged my eroded dreams of an empty blacktop and English-speaking bus driver along my walk to my first class. I tried my best to walk quickly and silently, hoping Fred would stay distracted by the poor little punk rocker with