Excerpt from the center

It's the 1st of the month and that means it's time for more shameless self-promotion. BTW, I am aware that I use a U.S. spell check instead of a Can. version. (There's a future Blog) I know that my Canadian readers are smart enough that they can figure out what I'm trying to say....eg. centre...the Americans, I'm not so sure....Anyway, on with the show. The following is an excerpt from my 1st novel Center of the Universe.

As it seemed that our plan would not reach fruition, Bubba’s sinister smile got ever wider and began to develop into a scheming mean snicker. Billy was now, laughing too, more from the acid he had dropped than at Bubba’s plan.

George and I, who still flanked Davy, in the back seat, just looked more concerned. Our huge co-worker Davy, knew something was up from the way silence had crept into the vehicle, save for the humming of the engine, the wind whipping by, and the churning of tires bitting into gravel. He could also see that everyone else had some sort of reaction that he was not privy to.

Bubba slowed the car to a crawl, and pulled over to the side of the road, next to a corn field. We were now well into the country and the light pollution from the city was a faint glow on the horizon. The full moon, the only illumination, gently cascaded off the budding stocks of corn that seemed to run for miles in every direction.

"There’s been a change in plans. This is gonna be for reel guys. Now everyone get the fuck out!" Bubba commanded.
"Oh my God! George, he’s actually going to go through with it! We have to stop
him," I hissed, as we all followed Bubba to the rear of the car.
Billy sat down giggling, periodically looking skyward to the stars and systematically arranging the stones around him, totally oblivious to Bubba’s plan.

Davy stood dumb founded, almost mesmerized as Bubba sneered at him. Unlocking the trunk and reaching inside, he pulled out a long coil of thick rope that had a make-shift noose at one end.
"Do you know what a hazing ritual is Davy boy?" Bubba said, holding the coil in one hand and swinging the noose gently in the other.
Davy shook his head in a negative motion. George and I could see the beads of sweat begin to appear on his forehead.
"Well . . . it’s like this," Bubba continued, in an almost playful tone, "One end goes over your head, like this." Bubba gently tossed the noose over Davy’s head as if he were playing ringette. "...and I tie this end . . ." He showed the straight end to Davy, ". . . to the bumper of my car."

George and I looked nervously at one another. Was he really going to do this? He was only suppose to scare Davy but he was really going to go through with it!
"Bubba!" I protested, "What the . . . "
Bubba cut me off and pulled a knife from his pocket, "Shut up! , Everybody just shut the fuck up!" He pointed the blade with a threatening gesture.
"Awww," Billy cooed, laying on his back and let out the occasional deep sigh.
"I told you guys my plan was the best," he said, triumphantly, "You’re all just jealous fucks."
Davy now began a gurgling whimper almost inaudible.
"Then do you know what happens Davy boy? Well do ya? You frickin’ retard!" Bubba was almost nose to nose with him now.
Davy gulped and replied "No." His breathing and the gurgle in his throat were increasing. "It’s mission accomplished! I drag your fat fuckin ass down this gravel road. If you live, you pass the test. If you don’t . . ." Bubba didn’t finish the sentence. He began to kneel down to tie the rope end to the bumper.

George and I looked at each other then at Davy with his rabbit eyes full of fear.
"Run Davy! Now!" We urged but he didn’t need us to tell him. He took off like a bolt, surprising that at his size he could move that quickly. I guess when you feel your life is in jeopardy, your body is capable of incredible things.

The rope burned through Bubba’s fingers ripping the knife from them.
"Son of Bitch, fucker!" He screamed. He looked at his hands and quickly rubbed them against his jeans to give them solace. By the time he had turned to Davy, he was no longer there. Only a gentle puff of dust kicked up as he pivoted, signified where he had once stood.

As serious as the situation was, George, and I, couldn’t help but suppress our laughter, as Davy’s head periodically appeared above the corn stocks, noose still dangling around his neck. He just ran, not looking back as if chased by some unseen foe.
"Son of a fuckin bitch!" Bubba snorted.

I strained my eyes to catch the last glimpse of Davy as he passed from view. Now a new horror gripped me, and my throat became tight, as my stomach summer-salted. How the hell was he going to find his way back? We were in the middle of nowhere. Miles from the city.
"Guys we have to find him . . . who knows what might happen to him out here in his state," I said.

Bubba, his madness now passed reluctantly agreed as the guilt took hold. George was already collecting Billy from the pavement as one collects a passive pet, and shoved his thin frame back into the car.
"You were really going to drag him, weren’t you Bubba?"
Bubba just shot me an angry look.
"Don’t look at me like you’re not an asshole." I continued, as he climbed behind the wheel.

We, started driving up and down the dirt roads, that bordered the massive corn field, with the windows down, and the chilly night air brushing against our faces. We hollered for Davy. "Davy where are you? Come out we’re sorry!" Bubba, the one who should have been sorriest of all, said nothing, and drove staring directly ahead.

Finally, after two and half hours, Davy reemerged by the roadside, looking very forlorn. His face was a road map of red welts, and cuts, where the corn had torn into his flesh. The rope was gone from his neck. Only a small red mark remained to provide evidence of its existence.
"I lost my father’s watch," he said sadly as he held up his wrist. A faint tan line where the watch had been, as testament to the fact. Bubba gave him his cheap ten dollar piece of crap as a gesture of remorse, and drove him home without further incident.