A Couple of Richards by Robbie Hovesick (important of reading books TXT) 📕

and made a few stumbled steps towards freedom, but Richard, in nothing but his plaid boxer briefs, tackled his foe to the ground. He laid ontop of Richard's stomach and raised his weapon, water now streaming from his tightened face.
"Listen man, I had NO IDEA ANYONE WAS HOME! I have no MONEY, and and I was just LOOKING FOR SOME FOOD!"
Richard may as well have been speaking Chinese. Not a single word processed for wealthy Richard, who only thought of two options, die, or kill. He was afraid, and in shock.
"I just wanted some food, man, I just wanted to eat...I was also tired of blood oranges,"
"FUCK YOU!" He swung down on Richard, who caught Richard's fist with both of his, making sure he couldn't chop, or drop, the blade.
"JUST LISTEN TO ME FOR ONE SECOND, BUDDY. THIS-IS-A-DREAM, OKAY? JUST LET ME GO, AND YOU'LL WAKE UP! HAHA! ALRIGHT? YOU'LL BE FREE AS A BIRD, IF YOU CAN JUST GET YOURSELF TOGETHERRRG," He struggled against Richard's push, and was losing.
"HAAARGH," The blade inched it's way towards Richard's eye, preparing to diesect. They both knew that once it made contact, anywhere, the game was lost. His blood would spill out, and in the pain, he'd lose his strength, and recieve the fullness of the weapon. Their voices grunted out together, both faces turned red, and teeth clenched painfully together.
The butcher knife came closer, and closer, until Richard pulled it towards him, as fast as possible. He yanked it down, and diverted it's course, pulling it into the carpet. One hand stayed there, and the other knocked into Richard's cheek. He wheeled back, holding the soar spot. Richard bent back his legs, and kicked the poor, confused sleeper off his stomach and into the hall. Now Richard, dirty, unshaven, orphan Richard held the butcher knife, and wealthy, clean, parentally sheltered Richard pissed in his pants.
"Please...Don't hurt me,"
"You just stay right the hell there, buddy,"
"Yes...yes,"
Richard stepped over Richard, and headed into the living room and out the front door...Or atleast, he should have.
His stomach growled one last time, reminding him of why he came here in the first place. The kitchen was plentiful with snacks and breaded orderves. He lined his pockets, the ones in his pants, his jacket, and inside jacket with them. Boxes of cheetos, goldfish, and yes, doritos. And through it all, he hadn't heard Richard behind him lift one of the pans off it's hanger and creep behind his attacker.
Richard whipped around, a smirk on his face, acknowledging the crazy, but complete night he's had. The pan slammed into the side of his face, causing his entire body to spin around. He caught himself on the sink, hoisting his body up.
"Wait.." He said, before it slammed down again. He was knocked, like a gopher in one of those mallet arcade games he used to play by the pier. His legs gave out, and he slumped down onto the ground, the pain still growing in size, with each heart beat more intense. He retained the ability to scream.
"STOP, PLEASE, STOP,"
Richard did stop. He took a breath, shaking his head; His eyes were like that of a rabies stricken animal, rolling and wild, but also knowledgeable of the madness that had taken him.
"You don't have to do this," Richard weezed. "You can hear me out...My name is Richard Milton, and I just wanted some food," His neck felt weak, and his head fell onto his shoulder, a bit of blood drippling from his mouth.
"...You're name is Richard?" Lying on his back, half-out from the whapping he just recieved, Richard could see everything his attacker had been feeling in the last five minutes; the sleepy shock of being called out of bed, the fear of death and betrayal of safety, and a lot of anger that's probably making him want to cry more than anything.
"Yes, Richard Milton. I don't have an I.D on me, I'm without a home to my name," His mind shuttered with pain and fear, but his voice was steady. "If you want anymore information, it's siimply not there to give,"
"My name's Richard," Richard said, his hand turning a slight red from holding the pan so tight, and so far above his head.
"Oh yeah? Okay, nice to meet you Richard. You can hear me, right? You can understand what I'm saying Richard? You with me?"

"Yeah," Bleeding, consciousness losing Richard swallowed his fast acting saliva, and then coughed it back up.
"Richard, I was just stopping by to get something to eat. You hear me? Never meant to do any harm to nobody. Okay?"
Richard said nothing. His face drooped, and lifted, his mind coming out of a fog, and maybe that was worse.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Richard. RICHARD," He barked. Piss-spot, stupified Richard nodded, bringing down the pan, slowly. "I'm going to le-," But he couldn't finish. Richard held his stomach and rolled over. There was a sharp pain in his stomach, and it swam up into his head and began poking around.
"Ambulance," Is what he said. "Richard get me an ambulance,"
The naked Richard did just that, and quickly. He even impressed himself by knowing his own address. Your mind's flash light shines bright on faded memories when your pissing yourself out of fear; Yeah, Richard really wouldn't have thought so either.
Richard waved goodbye to his new aquiantance, the red lights flashing his eyes, his skin prickling at the wind kicking up his bathrobe. RIchard was wheeled into the ambulance, one eye open, squinting at the bright, glowing whiteness, following a pencil back and forth just fine. Richard watched them drive off, dust billowing up behind him, sticks snapping in their wake, walked back to his bed and didn't sleep for twenty nine hours.

When the story got out a few weeks later, someone made a joke in Flautina California about the two men involved being a "couple of dicks,"
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Publication Date: 02-01-2011

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