Pests

Genus Part 9

I said my goodbyes to Jules and Pete, and hit the road. Pete gave me one last, look of concern. 

That motherfucker really is skeptical, does he really think he won't see me again? That's ridiculous. I'll show him wrong.

Either way, this was for the greater good. This was yet again, one of those endless "abused underdog" stories and I was sick of hearing about them and just letting them fall by the wayside.  I was determined. Something needed to be done about this travesty of a landlord and I was apparently the person to do it.

Do I have it what it takes though? iI he is as huge and imposing as Pete says, what the hell could I do?

 I got behind the wheel and drove with an unwavering purpose. I knew I had to do whatever it took to make sure this shit got done, if it was killing a man with my bare hands again, or beating him within an inch of his life; something needed to happen. 

At the next stoplight, I put on some Terror  to get me in the mood for whatever was about to happen. Something about their endlessly driving rhythms and ruthlessly tight drumming and guitar riffs always made me snarl my lip and nod my head to the beat. 

Gold's  was about 10 minutes away, but who knows if his truck would still be there at all? Maybe he finished his lessons early or something.

Maybe I shouldn't ambush him at the Gym, but I should follow him around a little bit, see where he ends up, and then hopefully take him on in someplace a little more isolated and off the beaten path. Yeah, i'll park across the street from him and wait until I see him pull out of the parking lot and follow him from there. That would work fine.

 I parked across the street and waited it out and blasted my car's air conditioning. After exhausting the Terror  selection on my phone, I moved on to Coliseum.  Fuck I love those guys. I tapped a long in my car while thinking of all the potential scenarios that could unfold here.

Pete could be all wrong, and maybe Keith is this really puny dude. Could Pete be fucking with me for any specific reason? Or maybe, this would be a really brutal, long and drawn out fight... I'd rather not end up in too bad of shape. I only have a week out to plan whatever is going to happen with the FRAME convention. 

 A smile from ear to ear just came across my face with the epiphany I had.

Maybe I wouldn't need to get physical, and I could blackmail him with some of the thoughts he has. Like maybe, I could pick up on him being a necrophiliac and threaten to tell everyone of his embarrassing truth and a fight wouldn't even be necessary!

I stopped my endlessly rambling mind for a second.

Necrophilia? Come on Phil, really? As remote as that is, in what part of at maximum a 10 minute conversation could you have that would expose the deepest of his depravity. You don't think this as much, but it always helps to be grounded in reality, if only for a little bit of time. Necrophilia. Man, don't be so ridiculous. 

I resigned to my stream-of-conscious. That was an extremely ridiculous notion. I can't continue on thinking these truly absurd thoughts out of nowhere. There are some indicators of things that could lead me to believe these notions, and that's okay, but having these without any... 

Oh crap... I think that's him pulling out now. 

Well, Pete appeared to be right. He had a huge blue truck, and he looked as if he were a long lost Wyatt brother from the WWE.  Ridiculously unkempt black beard, with a sopping wet, slicked back hair to match. 

Fuck, what the hell did I get myself into.

As Keith was looking around and oncoming traffic to pull out of the parking lot, he quickly turned his focus on me. It looked like his eyes were shooting mini-daggers through me. I could feel every muscle in my body tense up, the muscles in my neck were as taut as they've ever been. The worst part of it was, I couldn't look away; I was staring right back at him.