at's alright, really, if they think me dumb. It's not like I'm ever gonna go to college anyway. Mom and Dad got married right out of high school, mostly because she was already pregnant with my older brother, Mike. At least Dad got a job in the silver mine right away, and he's always brought home enough money to pay the bills, and maybe once in a while get something nice.
Like, for instance we had dinner last night at the Owl Club in town. That was real nice. Now that Mike's moved out of the house, shacked up with that Jeannette bitch who wrapped him around her fingers just by opening her legs wide, there's a little bit more money in the house. Dad said that with there being a football team this year in school we can afford for me to play this year. He doesn't mention that all the money would come from my own bank account, with the money I made by working for Grandpa, but that's just dad. The man tries to forget my grandparents ever help us out in any way.
That's good that we can afford more stuff this year, because I like football. It's way better than basketball where I'm nothing more than a big lug who can scare the shit out of the other team's players until he fouls out, or Track where the only real good events for me are shot put and discus. Well, I'm decent at the long jump too, but shot put and discus are the good ones.
Baseball, well I can catch pretty good, and any poor bastard trying to rush a play at home plate learns better. I heard one of them talk about it being like hitting a brick wall and that put a smile on my face. Plus, I'm pretty good at bat most of the time, unless the pitcher gets tricky with me.
Football though, where you can feel the impact of the other person's body, hear the thunking sound as you hit them, feel them go down beneath you, and see the fear in their eyes as this huge six-foot-four, two hundred and thirty pounds of muscle faces off against them - now that is a man's game. Defense is my game, even if I'm not all that fast on my feet. Usually there's few people who can stop me when I get going, and not even a foot-quick quarterback can dodge me for long. Not only that, I can jump, which if I could also shoot would have made basketball more fun, but I can't shoot worth crap.
'Eddie, get your butt in gear!' Dad's voice was loud from the living room as he called out to me. Our house, on a corner of one of Grandpa's fields wasn't huge, but it wasn't a dump either. Hell, half the kids in school lived in trailers, single or double-wide, but we lived in a real house, built by all the men in the family, with only a hired plumber and a hired electrician helping. It was a long, one-story building with five bedrooms, a family room, a real dining room, a big kitchen for mom, a huge game room with a foosball table, a pool table, two dart boards, a poker table, and another table for other board games, dad's den, mom's sewing room, a bedroom for them, a bedroom each for Mike and me, and two more guest bedrooms.
Dad always said he'd never have been able to afford the house on his own, and at times he seemed to get ill about how it was Grandpa Betschart that gave him the land, but then he'd remember that all the men from both sides of the family had helped build the house, and he'd take pride in it again and everything would be good again. I was just glad they planted all the trees around the house because during the summer, after twenty years of growth, they were tall and their shade kept the house cool a lot easier.
Dad would never waste money on an air-conditioner.
'Eddie, you have two minutes!' Mom's sweet voice rang out and I let out a sigh, looking at my reflection in the mirror one more time. It was on the back of the door, and I could see almost my entire body in it. I was dressed and had just been staring off into space, like I do sometimes, but now I focused on my reflection.
Some people might think that being as tall and built up as I was that I'd be good-looking, but that just wasn't so. My face was just to big, with a long, flat nose that looked like a big rudder in the middle of my face. My brown eyes were too big as well, and I had to keep my brown hair cut short or it'd curl up and make me look all faggish. It didn't help that a couple years ago I'd gotten a bad case of acne and now had all these little pucker scars along my broad jaw line. I knew people laughed at my cleft chin and big ears, but they'd long since learned not to laugh where I could hear them. At least my big, thick arms showed people right off the bat that they couldn't laugh at me and get away with it.
'Eddie, we're leaving!' Dad's voice rang out with a little bit of anger in it and I knew I had to get going or he'd get mad. Sure, he was six inches shorter than me, and weighed about sixty pounds less, but a lifetime in the silver mines had made him strong, stronger than I could ever be, and it hurt when he got mad at me. I was dressed though, wearing the black slacks, white dress shirt and a blue tie, ready for the day. All that was needed was my 'mess with me at your own risk' expression and that came easily after years and years of practice.
'I'm coming!' I yelled as I opened the door and headed out of my cramped, messy room. It was cramped because of the king-sized water bead, desk, dresser, and the trophy case with all my trophies. The piles of clothes, papers, and other junk around the room didn't help because all the floor space was covered with that junk.
The rest of the house wasn't nearly as cluttered. Mom kept a tight ship, with everything all neat, dusted, and well cared for. Sure, very little of what we had was new, my bed had been bought used when I was a kid, and was probably ten years older than me, but everything was nice and cared for in the house.
'Get a move on.' Dad said gruffly as I met them near the front door. He was all of five foot ten, and had short brown hair. I knew my hair's curliness came from him, because mom had long, straight brown hair that she had done up today in a bun, all under a wide-brimmed blue hat that matched her pretty blue dress. Dad's broad shoulders and thick arms were covered in a dark-blue suit that matched nicely with mom's lighter-blue dress. She always did a good job in making us look nice for Sunday.
'You look good honey.' Mom said with a smile, as she looked me over. Her words almost brought a blush to my face but a scowl got rid of that easily as she took my arm. She was the same height as Dad, and still had a nice figure unlike a lot of the other housewives at the church. It was too bad I'd been such a big kid and made it impossible for her to have more children. She'd always wanted a big family, which is why there were five bedrooms in the house, but after me the doctor had told her she couldn't have more kids.
That had always made me feel bad, that I'd ruined her dreams like that.
'Thanks, Mom' I replied in my deep, gruff voice. Someone had once told me my voice sounded like a bunch of rocks falling down a hillside. He'd been the last person to tell me that.
'My sweet little boy is almost all grown up.' Mom gushed, threatening another wave of red to come to my cheeks. Biting my tongue got rid of that as we moved out of the house, closing the door behind us. We got into Mom's old brown Buick, although Dad was driving like he always did when we went together as a family. He pulled out, past his big F-250 pickup and past my Wrangler with the oversized tires and roll bar with the fog lights, and headed left on Silver
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