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Dick

Dick

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Published by Scotty Milder
"Three running steps..."
"Three running steps..."

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Published by: Scotty Milder on Aug 19, 2010
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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05/22/2012

 
Dick
By Scott MilderTwo girls. Six weeks apart. One sixteen, and a possible runaway.The other was thirteen. Her name was Amanda.Kathy knew her a little bit from school.No leads. No suspects.Dick was a creep. Kathy knew this.If she could have never met Dick in the first place, she wouldhave been happiest. But if she could just now go the rest of herlife without having to endure his crawling eyes over her bosom, orthe “accidental” brush of his hand against her ass when he triedto get past her into the refrigerator, or his sweaty cheese smell,or his thunderous laugh, she’d be happy enough.But Dick was Kyle’s father, and Kathy still liked Kyle, and Kyle was only fourteen, and Kathy was three months younger, and so Dickcouldn’t be avoided.Once when she came over she turned on the TV. It was the secondto last time she made that mistake.Kyle had disappeared into the bathroom, and he was taking solong, and Dick was upstairs somewhere. Kathy was bored. So sheturned on the TV.Dick paid for satellite TV because he liked to spend all his weekends watching sports, and with satellite TV you got somethinglike fifteen different sports channels. He didn’t pay for any ofthe movie channels because he didn’t watch movies. Just sports.Kathy didn’t like sports, so after about ten minutes or so offlipping through ESPN, ESPN 2, Fox Sports, Fox Sports West, Speed,
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Golf, whatever else, she got bored all over again. It was aThursday afternoon, right around three, and even the networksdidn’t have anything on. Her mom watched soaps but Kathy couldn’tstomach them, and whenever she accidentally landed on “Days of OurLives” or “All My Children” she flashed on an image of her mother,greying hair done up in a bun, eyes rimmed red, clutching at atorn bit of tissue and crying through cigarette smoke. Dad didn’ttalk to Mom much anymore. Neither did Kathy.She finally landed on Jerry Springer and watched that for alittle bit, but she got sick of trying to make out all the cuss words between the electronic bleeps, and the people on the show were so fat and so ugly and so stupid that Kathy began to feeluncharacteristically depressed. So that was it for Jerry Springer. And then, just on a whim, she hit the “play” button on the VCRremote, not really expecting anything to be in there because Dickdidn’t watch movies and Kyle had his own TV/VCR combo in his room upstairs. But the tape heads whirred and the TV screen went black,and then there were all these glistening, pulsing bodies, pantingand moaning against the static, their rhythmic thrusts and painedlittle gasps blanketed by cheap sounding calliope music.Kathy knew what porno was, knew her brother watched itsometimes, but she had never seen it herself. She wasn’t afraid ofsex; like most thirteen-year-old virgin girls, sex was something mysterious, something wonderful, something exotic, like the LostCity of Atlantis or something. She knew in an intellectual wayshe’d be having sex herself someday. She even knew it would get tobe mundane after awhile, but right now it was still somethinggrand, something to be earned and fought for.Less than three minutes of Dick’s cheap porno shattered all herillusions. The stuff was grainy, amateurish, and Kathy figured all
 
the static and bounce meant that Dick probably watched this tape alot and that the copy was almost worn out. Suddenly the image ofher mother watching her soaps slipped into her head again, andthen that morphed into an image of big old fat Dick, propped nakedon the couch, all the lights out, Kyle upstairs watching some movie, Dick panting and stroking himself while the grainy imagesof pimply nineteen-year-old girls strenuously fucking fat middle-aged men only moderately less repulsive than Dick himself bouncedand gyrated and boogied on the 27-inch TV. Dick coming just as thefat guy with the beard came all over the little blond girl withthe cold sores, and her screaming something, and Dick grunting,and Dick reaching for a box of kleenex or a paper towel or maybejust wiping his hand on the sofa. God knew that sofa was filthy.Kathy turned off the VCR, feeling sick. A few minutes later Kylecame out of the bathroom and they left for the mall. She didn’t mention it to him.But the next time she saw Dick she stayed as far away aspossible, and she avoided his eyes.“Hey, Kathy...”Dick’s smile was a virus. She smiled back, her heart droppinginto her stomach like a lead weight.“Uh, hi Mr. Giraldi-”“-
Dick 
-”“...uh, Dick. Um, is Kyle here?”Dick shook his head sadly, but his eyes gleamed and his wide moon face was cheesed with sweat and she thought of that tape inthe VCR and wondered if she had interrupted him. Her eyes betrayedher and strayed to Dick’s crotch to see if his fly was open. ThankGod it wasn’t.

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