Title: Good Boy
Author: G.I.B.S
Rating: Teen
Anthony Vascali was a man of many talents. In his mind he was a murderer, an intellectual, and a drug addict. In his actions, he was a child abuser, a miser, a slave owner and a womanizer. He was a proud man and wrote poetry and prose nightly on all sorts of topics, but his favorite was death. He would spend hours under the lamp of his fashionable desk dreaming of ghosts and the nightly visitors he saw.
When he walked through the dusty streets of town with one of his many youthful servants, he often spoke aloud to no one in particular about the intimate details of his life and the politics he engrossed himself in. Mr. Vascali cared not who knew of his dinner plans, or his views on the public lifestyles of his neighbors. In fact, he counted on them, for it gave him an air of importance and sophistication.
On one walk through town, he said, “How dare that boy talk back to me like I know nothing of anything. Am I not older than he? Am I not wiser? I am shocked that he should treat such a father figure like myself so disrespectfully. Do you have any opinion, my dear Martin?”
Martin did not answer, for it would have seemed quite inappropriate. instead, he listened intently and nodded his head when it was expected of him. And while the hat he wore flapped awkwardly at the side of his head, he said nothing against it , for an outing such as this one was seen as a privilege amongst the other boys.
“Such an insolent child with that demeaning outlook on life. If I were such a boy, I would wish myself dead rather than anything else. Do you not agree Martin?”
Once again, the boy did not answer, for the insolent boy happened to be his elder brother, of whom he was very fond. So he continued his walk in silence past the candied pole of the barber shop and east toward Old Fordham Cemetery.
Anthony Vascali, being the man he was, strode through the iron gates with bold confidence and a swelled head. His shoulders were squared and his back was straight as if he were military even though he were the farthest thing from it. He smiled a toothy grin, his eyes lighting up in a disfigured gleam. “Go on boy, find your woman.” he said sharply.
The young boy nodded slowly before scampering off into the midsts of the stone markers. He was fearful now, uncertain of what was to come and felt that perhaps, he was better off dead. He giggled and laughed and sang as he moved to keep his spirits high, but upon finding the grave of his mother, he fell in sorrow. “Master,” he called dutifully.
Vascali stopped his pacing and moved toward Martin, his expression harsh and cruel. He took one look at the worn stone and sneered. Placing his hand on the back of the boy’s neck, he shoved him face first into the ground. “On your mother’s bosom, proclaim me your father.” he ordered
The boy, angry and terrified remained quiet for a moment, his nose breathing in the soft dirt. “Never,” he whispered indignantly. “I won’t do it. I won’t disgrace my mother. No suh.”
“Proclaim me your father, boy” Vascali muttered angrily as he kicked the Martin forcefully in the side. “Such a wench of a woman never knew a good man in her time. Now, proclaim me slave.”
The boy whimpered in response as he eyes closed with fear and disgust. “You are my father, master.” he said quietly as his eyes began to burn from the grime. Sniffling, he swallowed some dirt and began to cough.
Vascali grabbed the boy by the collar gently and pulled him off the ground. Wrapping his arm around Martin’s shoulders tenderly, he brushed the dirt from his shoulder. “Good boy,” he whispered cheerfully in a paternal manner. “Good boy.”
