THE BIGGEST STICK by Richard Alan Nelson
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THE BIGGEST STICK by Richard Alan Nelson
The following story has been selected as a featured runner-up in our 2015 short story contest (Contest Theme - "The Self-Destructiveness of Vengeance and Hate")
THE BIGGEST STICK by Richard Alan Nelson
CHAPTER ONE
John Henry Crawford, generally called “Hank”, wanted the promotion more than anything he had ever wanted in his life. He was getting old, almost thirty-three, and barely making it on his current earnings. After he graduated law school, he was certain it wouldn’t be long until he hit the big time and could taste the life he was going to live.
Unfortunately, Anston Agee, the Senior Partner, a real S.O.B. didn’t seem to be enamored of Hank’s fine work and great billing hours. The dorky, but attractive, Linda Oppenheimer seemed to be the front runner for partner when Jackson Taylor retired in only three more months. He couldn’t see old man Agee boffing her so he couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t the fair-haired, chose one.
He knew he was pressing a bit lately, but he didn’t know what he would do if he didn’t get the hike in position. He not only wanted the prestige, the new office and secretary, he needed the money. He had fierce car payments and still owed a ton on his student loans from way back when.
“Are you in a trance or plotting your next move to get the partnership?” a voice said behind him. Hank, a bit high strung of late, jumped and turned over the staple jar on his desk.
“Damn it, Jack, why do you have to sneak up on people all the time? You scared the crap out of me,” Hank blurted as he swung around in his chair.
Jack O’Toole was an intern about to graduate and ready to start law school. He was a disciple of Hank’s even though Hank constantly abused his good nature and took advantage at every turn.
“I’m a sneaky kind of guy, I guess,’ he said, giggling.
“Well, cut it out and no, I’m strategizing about an important case so leave me alone.”
“Okay. You know you’re all tense and up tight, don’t you?”
“Leave or I will hurt you,” Hank said without looking at Jack. He was already back to trying to think up some scheme to discredit Oppenheimer.
CHAPTER TWO
Hank pulled out into the rush hour traffic and cursed under his breath. Getting out of the downtown area morning and afternoon was becoming nearly impossible.
Where do all the cars come from?
He sped up to beat the next light, but it turned red before he got there. He ran the light and two cars screeched their breaks to keep from colliding with him. One of them laid on his horn announcing his displeasure.
“Yeah, yeah, up yours.” he mumbled under his breath as he fiddle with the radio dial.
In the next block, he was stopped again with three cars in front of him. They were immobile for what seemed like a life-time. “Come on…come on,” he said as he banged the steering wheel. The lead car was clearly in no hurry when the light changed and Hank jack-rabbited around them all and burned rubber the entire block only to catch the next light red also.
“Judah’s priest! Why can’t the city set the timers on these things to keep traffic going? This is ridiculous.”
Things didn’t change all the way up Broadway to the entrance ramp he wanted. At last, he was on the freeway, headed for the suburbs. However, traffic was only at a crawl, and he was fortunate to make more than ten miles per hour as they limped along.
Hank kept snapping his head around, looking for an opening, any opening in any lane. When he saw one he could use, he aggressively bulled his way into it and looked for the next one. He drew a couple more honked horns and offered them the same sentiment as the gentleman before. He was about to wear out his middle-finger.
After a near collision with an eighteen wheeler, he managed to zip over to yet another lane and found traffic was moving better now. Many of the cars were falling off at a ramp to a busy cross street and giving the clog some slight relief. They were now zooming along at around twenty-five.
Finally, as he got further away from the down-town section, things clear up somewhat and he punched it. A daredevil on a motor cycle cut in front of him, and he had to brake to keep from running over the kid. He tried out his horn, but the young rider was already switching lanes and speeding on to the next car.
“I can’t take this anymore. I’m going to move to some small town,” he said, not meaning a word of it. If there was one thing Hank liked it was the hustle and bustle of the city. As much as he complained, he liked the go-go atmosphere. It fit what he perceived as his dynamic personality. One which would be faithfully served when he got the promotion…if he got the promotion.
As he started to relax slightly, a pretty young girl in a red Mustang convertible zipped in front of him, coming close to clipping the front end of his car. Again, he hit his breaks and yelled out some savage cry pulled up from the depths of his psyche.
He hit the gas and charged after her. It took him a mile or more, but he caught her and pulled up beside her, red in the face and started to read her the riot act.
It was obvious she couldn’t hear a word he said, but she got the drift of his displeasure. She offered him a bright smile, reached up and pushed her sun glasses up with her middle finger, letting it rest on her nose. He got the message and felt his blood pressure pound in his ears.
She pulled off ahead of him, but he sped faster to keep up. If she thought she was going to get away with the last word, she had another think coming. I’ll show her a thing or two, he vowed to himself.
Soon, he was beside her again and they were running neck and neck. Now, he would put her in her place.
“I’ll show Miss Prissy who’s boss!”
CHAPTER THREE
The girl was clearly enjoying the cat and mouse and each time Hank thought he had enough room to squeeze over in front of her, she would nudge her car up only enough to prevent his doing so. When he looked over to scowl, she offered him a sweet smile. His head was about to explode.
Finally, the car in front of her moved to the right and Hank made a quick move to bull into the space. She raced her engine and jumped forward. Hank clipped her left front fender and she veered hard to the right banging into the car on the other side of her.
He managed to take position in front of her now, and it was her turn to lose control. Screaming epithets to him, none of them flattering, she jammed her accelerator and crashed into the rear end of his car. The collision, although not overly violent, did send parts and pieces of both machines flying.
When he hit his breaks, she slammed him again.
Cars surrounding backed away, seeing the duel going on and wanting no place in it.
With Hank on his breaks and she on her accelerator, the inevitable happened. She lost control and her red car flashed across two lanes and struck the guard rail. The impact gouged out a long gash down the side of her car and she came to a halt, actually shook-up over the ridiculous altercation.
Hank saw her predicament in his rear view mirror and chuckled. “Who’s your Daddy, little girl? That’ll teach you to mess with the man.”
Two lanes over and around ten car lengths back, a police officer had witnessed the entire conflict between the two hotheads, but had been unable to maneuver around traffic to catch up to them. Now he did.
With his lights flashing and siren blaring he made his way through the traffic and whipped in behind the red Mustang. He jumped out and ran to the driver side door.
“Are you hurt, Miss?” he asked with true concern.
The girl had her head on the steering wheel, sobbing, partly from fear and partly from anger and frustration. The only think hurt was here pride.
Hank had kept on moving after she crashed, laughing to himself, not giving any thought to whether she might be injured or not. When he saw the police car in his rearview mirror, he felt a bolt of fear rush through his body and momentarily panicked. He turned into the first off-ramp he came upon and took an immediate right then zigzagged through a neighborhood he had never been in before.
The officer up on the freeway with the red convertible called in an APB with a description of Hank’s car. Within thirty minutes an alert officer in a patrol car spotted Hank and had him in custody.
His mind was racing a hundred mile an hour, trying to figure all the angles and the best way to get out of the mess he created.
His car was impounded and he was taken to the station, charged with reckless endangerment, assault and attempting to evade arrest.
CHAPTER FOUR
He was taken inside and told to take a seat in a corner chair while the officer wrote up his report. Shortly thereafter, the original officer came in with the driver of the Mustang.
Hank’s knee-jerk reaction when he glanced up and saw her was she was hot, and then he realized she was his nemeses, the foe to be defeated.
“You…you crazy bastard!” she shouted at him. “Were you trying to kill me?”
“I think it was the other way around, girlie. You think a fancy, red car let’s you drive like you owned the damned road.”
“You wait until my grandfather gets here,” she sputtered, trembling with anger and nearly out of control. “I called him on my cell. He’ll fix you! You wait and see!”
“Okay, you two knock it off!” the policeman ordered. “Sit your butts down and keep quiet while we sort this out. You’re both lucky you didn’t injure anyone with your antics out there.”
“It was his fault,” the girl said, pointing at Hank. “He’s some kind of maniac.”
“Me? I’m not the one who nearly ripped the front end off my car…”
I told you two to be quiet. Do you want to go back to the cells while you wait?”
Both shook their heads and sat down, glaring at each other across the short space separating them.
Hank was working on his defense in his mind. He would clearly place blame on her, the initiator and his actions were stimulated by fear for his life. He would admit he panicked and tried to get away from her before she killed him. He was fine-tuning his argument when the desk sergeant officer walked in the room. “Her grandfather is up front making a lot of noise. He wants to see her now.”
“Sure. Why not? Send him back,” the officer in charge said.
“You’re going to get what you deserve, you pervert,” the girl said to Hank.
“Oh, shut up, you spoiled little twit,” Hank responded. If he couldn’t handle this little girl and some doddering old man, he wasn’t much of a lawyer.
“Missy, are you all right?” a deep, bass voice said, as the grandfather was led into the room.
Hank’s head snapped up. He recognized the voice. His heart sank when he looked up into the blazing eyes of Anston Agee.
“He tried to kill me, Pawpaw,” the girl whined.
Agee focused his eyes with red-hot anger on Hank.
Hank died a thousand deaths.
THE BIGGEST STICK by Richard Alan Nelson
CHAPTER ONE
John Henry Crawford, generally called “Hank”, wanted the promotion more than anything he had ever wanted in his life. He was getting old, almost thirty-three, and barely making it on his current earnings. After he graduated law school, he was certain it wouldn’t be long until he hit the big time and could taste the life he was going to live.
Unfortunately, Anston Agee, the Senior Partner, a real S.O.B. didn’t seem to be enamored of Hank’s fine work and great billing hours. The dorky, but attractive, Linda Oppenheimer seemed to be the front runner for partner when Jackson Taylor retired in only three more months. He couldn’t see old man Agee boffing her so he couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t the fair-haired, chose one.
He knew he was pressing a bit lately, but he didn’t know what he would do if he didn’t get the hike in position. He not only wanted the prestige, the new office and secretary, he needed the money. He had fierce car payments and still owed a ton on his student loans from way back when.
“Are you in a trance or plotting your next move to get the partnership?” a voice said behind him. Hank, a bit high strung of late, jumped and turned over the staple jar on his desk.
“Damn it, Jack, why do you have to sneak up on people all the time? You scared the crap out of me,” Hank blurted as he swung around in his chair.
Jack O’Toole was an intern about to graduate and ready to start law school. He was a disciple of Hank’s even though Hank constantly abused his good nature and took advantage at every turn.
“I’m a sneaky kind of guy, I guess,’ he said, giggling.
“Well, cut it out and no, I’m strategizing about an important case so leave me alone.”
“Okay. You know you’re all tense and up tight, don’t you?”
“Leave or I will hurt you,” Hank said without looking at Jack. He was already back to trying to think up some scheme to discredit Oppenheimer.
CHAPTER TWO
Hank pulled out into the rush hour traffic and cursed under his breath. Getting out of the downtown area morning and afternoon was becoming nearly impossible.
Where do all the cars come from?
He sped up to beat the next light, but it turned red before he got there. He ran the light and two cars screeched their breaks to keep from colliding with him. One of them laid on his horn announcing his displeasure.
“Yeah, yeah, up yours.” he mumbled under his breath as he fiddle with the radio dial.
In the next block, he was stopped again with three cars in front of him. They were immobile for what seemed like a life-time. “Come on…come on,” he said as he banged the steering wheel. The lead car was clearly in no hurry when the light changed and Hank jack-rabbited around them all and burned rubber the entire block only to catch the next light red also.
“Judah’s priest! Why can’t the city set the timers on these things to keep traffic going? This is ridiculous.”
Things didn’t change all the way up Broadway to the entrance ramp he wanted. At last, he was on the freeway, headed for the suburbs. However, traffic was only at a crawl, and he was fortunate to make more than ten miles per hour as they limped along.
Hank kept snapping his head around, looking for an opening, any opening in any lane. When he saw one he could use, he aggressively bulled his way into it and looked for the next one. He drew a couple more honked horns and offered them the same sentiment as the gentleman before. He was about to wear out his middle-finger.
After a near collision with an eighteen wheeler, he managed to zip over to yet another lane and found traffic was moving better now. Many of the cars were falling off at a ramp to a busy cross street and giving the clog some slight relief. They were now zooming along at around twenty-five.
Finally, as he got further away from the down-town section, things clear up somewhat and he punched it. A daredevil on a motor cycle cut in front of him, and he had to brake to keep from running over the kid. He tried out his horn, but the young rider was already switching lanes and speeding on to the next car.
“I can’t take this anymore. I’m going to move to some small town,” he said, not meaning a word of it. If there was one thing Hank liked it was the hustle and bustle of the city. As much as he complained, he liked the go-go atmosphere. It fit what he perceived as his dynamic personality. One which would be faithfully served when he got the promotion…if he got the promotion.
As he started to relax slightly, a pretty young girl in a red Mustang convertible zipped in front of him, coming close to clipping the front end of his car. Again, he hit his breaks and yelled out some savage cry pulled up from the depths of his psyche.
He hit the gas and charged after her. It took him a mile or more, but he caught her and pulled up beside her, red in the face and started to read her the riot act.
It was obvious she couldn’t hear a word he said, but she got the drift of his displeasure. She offered him a bright smile, reached up and pushed her sun glasses up with her middle finger, letting it rest on her nose. He got the message and felt his blood pressure pound in his ears.
She pulled off ahead of him, but he sped faster to keep up. If she thought she was going to get away with the last word, she had another think coming. I’ll show her a thing or two, he vowed to himself.
Soon, he was beside her again and they were running neck and neck. Now, he would put her in her place.
“I’ll show Miss Prissy who’s boss!”
CHAPTER THREE
The girl was clearly enjoying the cat and mouse and each time Hank thought he had enough room to squeeze over in front of her, she would nudge her car up only enough to prevent his doing so. When he looked over to scowl, she offered him a sweet smile. His head was about to explode.
Finally, the car in front of her moved to the right and Hank made a quick move to bull into the space. She raced her engine and jumped forward. Hank clipped her left front fender and she veered hard to the right banging into the car on the other side of her.
He managed to take position in front of her now, and it was her turn to lose control. Screaming epithets to him, none of them flattering, she jammed her accelerator and crashed into the rear end of his car. The collision, although not overly violent, did send parts and pieces of both machines flying.
When he hit his breaks, she slammed him again.
Cars surrounding backed away, seeing the duel going on and wanting no place in it.
With Hank on his breaks and she on her accelerator, the inevitable happened. She lost control and her red car flashed across two lanes and struck the guard rail. The impact gouged out a long gash down the side of her car and she came to a halt, actually shook-up over the ridiculous altercation.
Hank saw her predicament in his rear view mirror and chuckled. “Who’s your Daddy, little girl? That’ll teach you to mess with the man.”
Two lanes over and around ten car lengths back, a police officer had witnessed the entire conflict between the two hotheads, but had been unable to maneuver around traffic to catch up to them. Now he did.
With his lights flashing and siren blaring he made his way through the traffic and whipped in behind the red Mustang. He jumped out and ran to the driver side door.
“Are you hurt, Miss?” he asked with true concern.
The girl had her head on the steering wheel, sobbing, partly from fear and partly from anger and frustration. The only think hurt was here pride.
Hank had kept on moving after she crashed, laughing to himself, not giving any thought to whether she might be injured or not. When he saw the police car in his rearview mirror, he felt a bolt of fear rush through his body and momentarily panicked. He turned into the first off-ramp he came upon and took an immediate right then zigzagged through a neighborhood he had never been in before.
The officer up on the freeway with the red convertible called in an APB with a description of Hank’s car. Within thirty minutes an alert officer in a patrol car spotted Hank and had him in custody.
His mind was racing a hundred mile an hour, trying to figure all the angles and the best way to get out of the mess he created.
His car was impounded and he was taken to the station, charged with reckless endangerment, assault and attempting to evade arrest.
CHAPTER FOUR
He was taken inside and told to take a seat in a corner chair while the officer wrote up his report. Shortly thereafter, the original officer came in with the driver of the Mustang.
Hank’s knee-jerk reaction when he glanced up and saw her was she was hot, and then he realized she was his nemeses, the foe to be defeated.
“You…you crazy bastard!” she shouted at him. “Were you trying to kill me?”
“I think it was the other way around, girlie. You think a fancy, red car let’s you drive like you owned the damned road.”
“You wait until my grandfather gets here,” she sputtered, trembling with anger and nearly out of control. “I called him on my cell. He’ll fix you! You wait and see!”
“Okay, you two knock it off!” the policeman ordered. “Sit your butts down and keep quiet while we sort this out. You’re both lucky you didn’t injure anyone with your antics out there.”
“It was his fault,” the girl said, pointing at Hank. “He’s some kind of maniac.”
“Me? I’m not the one who nearly ripped the front end off my car…”
I told you two to be quiet. Do you want to go back to the cells while you wait?”
Both shook their heads and sat down, glaring at each other across the short space separating them.
Hank was working on his defense in his mind. He would clearly place blame on her, the initiator and his actions were stimulated by fear for his life. He would admit he panicked and tried to get away from her before she killed him. He was fine-tuning his argument when the desk sergeant officer walked in the room. “Her grandfather is up front making a lot of noise. He wants to see her now.”
“Sure. Why not? Send him back,” the officer in charge said.
“You’re going to get what you deserve, you pervert,” the girl said to Hank.
“Oh, shut up, you spoiled little twit,” Hank responded. If he couldn’t handle this little girl and some doddering old man, he wasn’t much of a lawyer.
“Missy, are you all right?” a deep, bass voice said, as the grandfather was led into the room.
Hank’s head snapped up. He recognized the voice. His heart sank when he looked up into the blazing eyes of Anston Agee.
“He tried to kill me, Pawpaw,” the girl whined.
Agee focused his eyes with red-hot anger on Hank.
Hank died a thousand deaths.
