My last allowance

Every month I get twenty dollars. It’s my allowance. My Dad, who works abroad puts it into my account. The situation with my Dad is just part of the problem.

Sure, he got divorced from my Mum and re-married to the devil, whose son lives up to the family name. He terrorises my life, whenever I’m forced to interact with him. She terrorises the lives of me and my siblings’ lives, whenever we have to see her.

And then there’s school. There are horrible people there. They pick on me because deep down they know that my IQ is ten times their own. But still, the beats come and the jibes come, and the insults come. They attack me out of spite. They make me feel like a walking target.

And now I walk down the street, towards the local weapons store. There are benefits to living in Texas.

“Hello, lad, what do you need?” asks the sales assistant behind the counter.

“I need a rental, what can twenty dollars get me?”

“Colt .45 and six bullets for two hours.”

“That’ll be fine. All I need it for is to shoot a target.”

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