nautideux

I was in fact, just trying to get the fuck out of there and had failed to notice a small hole by the sidewalk out front and took a nasty spill onto the concrete. I had been hustling so fast to just get out of there that I really hit the concrete pretty hard. The way I hit my knee and elbow, both on the funny bone, made it almost impossible to get back up right away. I actually had to kind of lay there, letting the pain subside before I could even think of getting up to a standing position, let alone walk. And you know what was funny and just totally unbelievable, it hurt so bad and I had hit both my funny bones so perfectly that I actually started to laugh in a way, as I lay there in a crazy type of fetal position, on the sidewalk in front of his house. I couldnt get up. I just lay there giggling and in so much pain that I began to see colors and hallucinations and honestly felt just loopy with pain. I was loopy. I cant explain it. But boy, the second look his dad gave me when he stepped over me to go close the car doors that were all left flung open, forced me to try to awkwardly stand up and limp crazily to the street, holding my elbow, laughing, still in a great deal of pain. I could have heard him slamming those car doors a mile away. I really could have. In the past, when I unluckily stumbled upon Jaxs dad, like if he came home early from work or had the day off and Jax hadnt warned me or had the time to give me some sort of heads-up, and I just barged over there, expecting to just find Jax or at the very worst one of his sisters and instead bumped into his dad, I quickly gathered that his dad was just on top of things and that we couldnt really pull the wool, as they say, over his eyes and all, like the way I had learned to do over my dads. See my dad thought he had things under control and was on top of stuff. He really did. But if you were even remotely smart or observant in the least, you could quickly figure out that he honestly didnt know which way was up or know his ass from his elbow or anything. Besides all the yelling and hitting and stuff he did to make it seem that he was right on top of things and in your shit, and one tough nut you couldnt put anything past, or pull the wool over or anything, it only took minimal effort to piece together and figure out that, if handled and manipulated in a way, that you could, if you were brave and observant and willing to take a risk, get away with a serious amount of shit. But Jaxs dad, right off the bat, even just stumbling upon him out by the trash cans or something, was a whole different kettle of fish, so to speak. He was much different than my dad. Jax was, as it became obviously clear once you saw his dad and mom, adopted. It was obvious. From his dads accent, dark skin tone, and general manners, you could immediately tell that he was Arabic or something and immediately get a tone of not to be fucked with in any way shape or form. I was honestly scared of him, if you want to know the truth. Just the way he said hello or nodded knowingly or even by the things he didnt say, I just knew he was truly a tough nut. But man, I was scared of him. And you would think that growing up in my house, with what I was put through, relentlessly, night after night, would have, to an extent, hardened me or toughened me up to the point that I could deal with or manipulate anyone, let alone someones dad. But the way he scuffed around in his sandals and how Jax jumped when he called him, not a pretend, fake enthusiastic jump and showy display of mock fear and dread I had developed for when my dad called me, but the honest-to-god real deal panic type of response, really had me quivering and trying to avoid him and just staying the fuck away from him. And where my dads often unintentionally kind of ridiculous displays of discipline were all baroque and loud and over the top and attention-getting and all, Jaxs dad knew how to menace and set things up so much more quietly and threateningly in a way that was just so much more effective than even my dads most theatrical carrying-on. Jaxs dad would just stalk about, scuffing by in these sandals and dress shirt and throw-off such a menacing and predatory type of vibe that I honestly learned to peak around and make notes of the cars in Jaxs driveway and all before even setting foot in his yard, let alone his fucking house. My dad was all show. Well not all show if Im being totally, completely honest but a great deal of why everyone thought my dad was scary and all, was in fact show. But Jaxs dads quiet menace and his stealthy ability to just pop up on us and the way he would nod or not do anything at all, is what chilled me to the bone. He could just be getting ice out of the freezer and be totally unaware anyone was watching and still look so serious and have such an erect posture and deliberate movements, that you just knew he was not to be fucked with. You just did. Anyone would have been shitting a brick around him. Im positive. I was. And I dealt with a serious fucking bastard. So I knew my shit when it came to these things. Trust me. I did.