A Tale Of Greed : Matthew

Matthew liked the name his parents had given him. The name of the first book in the New Testament of the Holy Bible. His parents had named him well. He paused a moment, closed his eyes, “Thy will be done, God in Heaven. Thy will be done.”

He checked the three clips for his AR-15, attached to his belt. Fully loaded, 30 rounds in each. “Give me strength, Father, to do what you’ve asked me to do.” He checked the fourth clip, put it in the 15, and turned to the picture of Jesus hanging on a cross on his ball, over his fireplace.

“Tell my Cindy how much I love her. Tell her I did this for her.”

He left his house, got in his truck, and headed toward the city treasurer’s office in town. “They’re taking everything.” He’d watched as they put a big damn road across the end of his property, the land his family had owned for generations. Four lanes of asphalt, separated by a concrete barrier, with ten feet of leeway on both sides. “They took my family’s land.”

He’d watched as they made him stop hunting in the woods a couple of miles from his home. His family had always hunted there, deer, squirrel, duck, rabbit. They were part of his diet, part of his family’s way of life. Then, the city had fenced it off, put property signs on it that said, “Natural Wildlife Preserve”, and stopped him from hunting there. They told him it was because a rare bird lived in that forest. Some damn bird that was nearly extinct. Hell, he’d never heard of that bird. He’d never seen one either. “They made up a damn story to kick me off that land, make it where I couldn’t hunt, like my Daddy, and my Grandpa.”

They’d made him agree to hookup to city water and sewage, they dug big trenches through his yard, ran pipes, and then made him pay to connect to the systems. And every month, they made him pay for using those systems. Hell, his yard had been a mess for over a year after they’d torn it too hell. And the water his family had used for generations hadn’t cost him anything. Water from a well. Damn city officials gave him a report about all the things in that water, how that water was poisoning him and his family. Especially his little girl, and his pride-and-joy son.

He knew better. He’d drank and bathed in that water all his life. They’d made up a lie, and forced him to pay for something he didn’t need. And then they made him pay more for it every month. They measured what he used, how much water, and made him pay for it by the gallon.

That was wrong. What they’d done was wrong.

Then, they sent out an inspector, and had him come up with some phony number for how much the house, and the land it was on were worth. Twenty five acres was worth a lot, it seemed. They told him his property was worth some insane amount. He couldn’t have afforded to buy it if it was worth that much. But he owned it. His family owned it, and had for three generations. And by God, he was going to give it to his son when the time came.

But them lying city people made up some ridiculous number and said that’s how much his property was worth. And then they told him he had to pay taxes on his property every year, and the taxes were based on how much the property was worth. They gave him the bill, and he choked.

He couldn’t afford it. Not every year. Hell, he’d have to have all the gold of Midas to afford that. They’d left him with no option but to sell off most of his land.

Well, by God, that wasn’t going to happen. That land was his family’s, had been for three generations. He wasn’t giving it up to some liars that worked in town, and wanted to get his land, and build houses and stores and parking lots on it, and chase him and his family off it.

Matthew had prayed to God every day. He asked God to show him what to do, show him how to fix this, how to do the right thing, how to take care of his family. And God had shown him, right there in the Bible. “There is a time for peace, and a time for war.”

Matthew knew what that meant. He knew what God wanted him to do.

He patted the AR-15 resting on the bench seat of his truck, next to him, as he drove into town, to the city treasurer’s office. They’d started everything. Now, God was going to have him finish everything.

No matter what.

As he drove, Greed sat in the bed of the truck, and enjoyed the scenery of the drive. It was going to be a glorious day. Another Christian was going to perform the word of God, and shoot people. Innocent people. People who were only doing their job, rendering unto Caesar that which was Caesar’s. Christians were such fun people to play with. They always thought it was God that told them what to do.

Not once did it occur to Matthew that everything that happened was normal. That the town was growing, and as it grew, it reached his property, and his property had become part of the town. That meant he had to pay taxes. And use city water and sewage. That meant he’d have to do what others had done before him, when the town reached them. Sell off what he couldn’t afford, and accept being part of the town.

It meant changes.

Christians, Greed had found, didn’t like changes much. Matthew was no exception. Greed grinned. “Ah, it’s going to be a glorious day, isn’t it.” He peeked into the cab to watch Matthew driving, and got excited when he saw Matthew pat the AR-15 a second time.

“It’s going to be a glorious day indeed. In the name of the Father. Amen.”

#MWBB Week 2.27 : A Tale Of Greed – Waiting On A Dream

It was 3 AM on a Monday morning. The sun wouldn’t be up for nearly 3 hours, but Beverly was wide awake. She listened carefully to Lawrence as he snored to make certain he was sleeping. Once she knew he was in dreamland, she slipped out of bed, pulled on a robe and house shoes, and slipped out of the bedroom.

“Thank God the bastard’s asleep,” she headed toward the shower. She closed the door to the room, locked it, slipped off the house shoes, then let the robe slip off her shoulders to the ground. She studied herself in the mirror. Her breasts were still good, not sagging yet. Her stomach was still flat. Even after the two kids. Her legs were still lean, no dimples of fat, not muscle-bound.

“I’m still a sexy bitch,” she smiled. “Gotta stay that way.”

She turned on the shower, turned the hot water up, she wanted a hot shower to wash away the feel and smell of him. The more soap, the more suds, the better. “The things I have to put up with.” She wished she could wash him out of her brain cells, her memories. Instead, she had to deal with the memory of having sex with him.

Sex she didn’t want to have. God, it was awful to suck him off. Awful to let him get behind her, and bang away. Awful to have to moan, and groan, and pretend it turned her on.

The hot water felt good on the back of her neck and shoulders. She tipped her head back, into the water, let it soak into her hair. Her favorite shampoo made such a rich lather. It cleaned her hair so thoroughly, left it feeling so alive. As she washed the lather out, she held her head under the running water, let it flow down her back.

“Another day I’ll take a nap while the kids are at school, and he’s at work.”

Him at work. That’s what it was all about. Keeping him happy. Keeping him at work. Keeping him making money. The more money, the better. Beverly needed money to buy the things she wanted. Her phone, her car, her clothes. It all cost money.

And he made plenty of it.

She’d worked hard to find him. Harder to get him to marry her. Harder to keep him. All she wanted, really, was his money. She didn’t really want him. Or his offspring. Boys. Brats. Just like their father.

So, she had to screw him a few times a week? That wasn’t so bad. He always passed out after he finished. She always waited while he made his run to the bathroom where he pissed, then washed himself. “I wish I could wash everything away as easily as he can.”

She checked the clock on the bathroom wall. “Damn.” It was time to dry off, get back in her robe, head downstairs, and start breakfast for fatty and his boys. She knew not to put anything on under the robe. It was all part of keeping him happy. Keeping him at work. Keeping him making money. More money. For her.

It wouldn’t be long before she could afford that dress she wanted. All silk. God, the way it felt when she ran her fingertips across the material in the store. Another month, and she’d have enough to buy it.

As she feared, just inside the front door he had to kiss her goodbye and let his fingers find their way between her legs. “The things I put up with to get what I want,” she thought as visions of that dress danced in her head.

Greed stood in the corner of the room and laughed. He loved every minute of the torture Beverly put herself through every day. Just to collect a few meaningless trinkets. “That old saying’s so true, dear. You can’t take it with you when you die.”

He whispered in Lawrence’s ear, “God, you should really fuck her face tonight.”

Then he laughed for hours, because he knew, Beverly would do whatever it took to get the next item on her list. Why, she’d even sell her soul.

695 Words

This is my entry for Year 2, Week 27 (Week 2.27) of Jeff Tsuruoka‘s Mid-Week Blues-Buster flash fiction challenge. Please, go read the other stories in the challenge.

#RaceTheDate : Muay Thai

Gluttony and Greed sat in the corner of the room. They were too lazy to stand. Besides, it was dark in the corner. The light from the TV didn’t reach them. The three male humans on the sofa didn’t know they were there.

“Oh, this is good,” Gluttony grinned. “Watching the fights, getting drunk, eating chips and queso.” He poked Greed in the ribs, “This is great!” He waved his arms at the three men on the sofa. “Look at them!”

Greed shook his head. “So like you.” He watched the TV screen for a moment. “Do you know what type of fighting they’re watching?”

Gluttony belched. “No. And I don’t care.” He rolled along the floor, stopping behind the sofa. “You boys deserve another round of drinks!” One of the men got up, and went to the refrigerator, returning with three more beers.

“These Muay Thai championships are fun! We should watch more of them!” he said, as he handed out the beers, and sat down. He and his buddies talked, as they watched.

“I wish I could fight like that.”

“Yeah. I’d make the boss shut up. Make him stop yelling at me.”

“Oh, and if we looked like them.”

“Bitches! Bitches everywhere!”

Greed whispered once again, “Keep watching.”

“Oh! That was a good one!” The three men cheered, as a foot met a nose just right, and drew blood. The victim’s nose had a nasty bend in it, with bone sticking out of its side. Cheering for more violence. More blood.

Greed let Gluttony enjoy goading the men to eat more, and drink more. Far more than they needed. “Let them enjoy their entertainment,” he thought. “They’ll pay for it soon enough.”

He smiled. “Oh, yes. They will indeed.”

293 words.

A little story of the Demons I couldn’t resist writing for Cara Michaels‘s Race The Date flash fiction challenge. Hope you enjoy it. Please, go read the other entries in the challenge this week. I find it amazing the stories people can create in 300 words or less.