A Duty for Darrells Bullen

(Here's a super short story I wrote today in 29 minutes; I've been meaning to get it off my chest for quite some time now)

A young teenage boy—let’s call him Darrells—finished his last geometry problem and peeled back the sheets. Suddenly, his mom yelled up from the foyer: “Darrells! Phone!” The young lad picked up his cordless and muttered a quiet “hello?” into the receiver. Ringing back into his ears was that high-pitched, pre-pubescent and very self-assured voice: “Hey, it’s me, Nic.” Nick had dropped the “k” when he was 13. “Can you come over, it’s really important.”
“I don’t know man, it’s late and I was just about to go to bed,” rejoined a weary Darrells.
“Oh c’mon, I’ll owe you big time. I need you,” Nic pleaded.
“OK, I’ll get on my bike.”
Darrells was 14 and his bike was a Huffy. In the 6th grade, kids had mockingly chanted to him and always very slowly, “Huffy…Huffy...” whenever he began to unlock his bike from the rack before riding home.
And so Darrell pedaled his way to Nic’s, even though it was already 9 o’clock.
And he pedaled. He pedaled through dark country roads, patches of forest, and even through a wheat field when he finally arrived around 9:45.
As Darrells approached the house, Nic had opened the door from the garage trying to get his friend’s attention, “pssst…hey man…come in through here.”
Darrells quickly jerked back to his right and ducked under the half open garage door.
“Hey,” whispered Nic, “follow me.”
The two tip-toed down the corridor and entered Nic’s bedroom.
“What’s going on? You’re starting to worry me. You okay?” inquired Darrells.
“What I’m about to tell you can’t tell anyone else, alright?”
“Sure.”
“Listen man. I don’t know how to laugh. Will you teach me how to laugh?” asked Nic.
“What the hell are you talking about?” responded Darrells with impatience.
“I mean, I can laugh. But it doesn’t come out right. Will you teach me to laugh?”
“How do you laugh now?” asked Darrells with disbelief.
“Well….I don’t know. Kind of like this: uh……uh huh. Uh…..uh huh…”

And so a preposterous, mousy modulation filled the young boy’s room.

Comments

[anonymous]

It's both a POS and a masterpiece.

Hell I enjoyed it.

[royo]

WOW

That is not a story at all but it is great, keep writing this story.