1
Blood on the ceiling
Rampage
“Jesus Christ, you dumb motherfucker. Ya got blood from here, all the way to the goddamn door,” Gin points and laughs like the fucking asshole he is. There’s a little splatter up there, not gonna argue that, but fuck. He was a bleeder.
“Damn, man. That shit splattered up to the ceilin’, too.” Stitch grunts, taking a drag from his smoke.
“That’s like forty fuckin’ feet away. You got Hulks fists or some shit?” Crush adds while smashing his fists together.
“Will you four fucktards shut the fuck up ‘n move this assholes body already?” Tank grumbles. He sure is one moody asshole.
It’s midnight, cold as shit, and we’re in this old ass abandoned building, freezing our nuts off, but this asswipe deserved more than just a swift death, so we made sure that he got what was comin’ to him.
“What do ya think would hit the ground first if I dropped it from up there? His head or an egg?” Gin asks, nodding up at the rafters above us. Shaking my head, I can’t help but laugh at the shit that comes out of his stupid ass mouth. Although it may seem a sick question, I can’t say that he doesn’t have my attention… I’m going with the head.
“Don’t know. How ‘bout ya cut his head off ‘n we try it?” I suggest.
“You cut it off man. That’s your shit,” he counters.
Just because I don’t mind being around blood, bones or separated appendages, doesn’t mean I want to grab a hacksaw and go choppin’ his head off.
“A buck fifty says his head hits the ground first,” Stitch announces while tossing a wad of crumpled bills onto the rusty tool bench.
“Nah, I got two hundred on the egg,” Crush adds, reaching into his pocket.
I can hear Tiny over by Tank, snickering. I know he wants in on this action too.
“So, one of you dickwads got an egg?” Sargent pipes up. No, but that don’t mean one of us aren’t willing to go hit up a store for one.
“You fucks are gonna make Happy throw up. Look, he’s turning green just hearing about it, so will ya just shut the fuck up?” Tank pipes in.
We ignored Tank and went on as planned, but let’s just say our little bet didn’t work out well. Tank was right, Happy got fucking sick on us. Gin broke a pair of pliers, and Stitch almost fell out of the goddamn rafters; It’s time to call it a night.
“Let’s get the fuck outta here,” Tiny grumbles as we hear a few distant sirens grow closer by the second.
“Come on guys. Just one more…” Gin begs like a little bitch.
“Shut the fuck up ‘n get on your goddamn bike. You lookin’ forward to prison, brother?” Throwing a leg over my bike, I’m ready to get the fuck outta here, but not before I yell out, “Gin, you got dibs on our next guy, okay?”
I can’t help but laugh when I hear Tank groan.
“Whatever.” What a fucking crybaby.
Urging them the fuck along, I say, “Let’s get the fuck home before we all get arrested.”
I’m pretty damn tired now, and it’s nice and warm up here. I should probably take a shower and get my ass to bed, but I just can’t get my lazy ass up off this floor. Tank had us going all goddamn night, freezing our balls off out in the middle of nowhere, taking out assholes one by one. My hands are sore and my back is stiff, but it’s these comfortable as fuck, frilly ass throw pillows that are keeping me in this spot. I swear I couldn’t be happier about all this pretty shit Lil insists on putting in this dump of a place, so I think I’ll stay right the fuck here, with the lights out and the TV on. Besides, walking down those stairs would be too much motherfucking work.
“What one do you want next?” Lil asks me from the couch I’m leaning against. It’s two in the goddamn morning and all of us are up here in the loft, watching a horror movie-thon, as Lil calls it. I’m surprised we can even hear the TV with Stitch and Cali on the other end of the couch, being fucking gross. No one needs to hear or see that shit. Ty is right there in his crib sleeping for God’s sake. What if he wakes up and sees that shit? It could scar his little mind for life.
I had better shit to do when I got here; fucking a whore being one, but here I am instead, giving into Lil’s obsession of horror movies. She has a way of doing that shit to you, ya know? One second you’re bullshittin’ with her, and the next you’re doing somethin’ for her. It’s really fucked up of her to do that kinda shit.
“Fuck if I know. I don’t know shit about scary movies, Sis,” I tell her.
Apparently my lack of movie knowledge is annoying to her.
“Here,” Lil says with a bit of attitude. She tosses Stitch the next movie, putting a stop to his obscene make out session. It takes a minute for Stitch to stop sucking face, or whatever he’s got in his mouth, and get up to put the next movie in… Freddy.
“Okay, Rampage, I want you to listen. I think it’s time, and I have this friend…” she starts up her shit again. I’m gonna strangle her, and she knows it’s not fucking happening.
“Not fuckin’ interested,” I tell her.
She groans and smacks the back of my head, “Just hear me out. She’s gorgeous, sweet but strong, and I worry about you being alone. You need an old lady, not nasty gash.” Lil is like a sister, and just like a sister, she’s trying to marry my ass off. What a pain in the ass.
“Sis, I told you I’m not lookin’. I get pussy daily ‘n I don’t have to marry ‘em to fuck ‘em. Lay off it now, will ya.”
She laughs and shrugs her shoulder, giving me a nasty fucking smirk. She thinks she’s right, “You’re gonna eat your words once you see her, but whatever you say.”
It’s not fucking likely.
It’s been a long fucking week. A run to Montana took longer than expected, but I’m a few miles from home and I couldn’t be more ready to chill the fuck out. Don’t get me wrong, I love riding. I live for the road and the freedom. It’s my calling… encoded into my DNA, pumping through my veins, but sometimes shit gets a little much.
This last run was a total fuck up. I spent half the time soaked to the bone from so much fucking rain, got shot at twice, and the club I stopped through had no fresh pussy. Being stuck in someone else’s club with a bunch of fucking dudes is not cool. It was a goddamn sausage fest, and now I’m heading home to my club, which I’m happy as fuck about.
I’ve been doing this shit for twelve years. Been in this life since the moment I came screaming into the world thirty years ago ‘cause Mom was a club whore. She may not have been an old lady, but that shit never really mattered. She was always at the club until my Pops decided it was up to him to end her life.
I was a snot nosed little shit, spending most of my time running around this place and other clubs with Mom. Pops spent the majority of his time on the road, running shit for the club. When he was around, he was always drunk, beating the shit out my mom. When I was sixteen, he strangled mom to death. I don’t know why he did it, but he was a piece of shit. He killed her, but I ended that asshole very soon after. When I found him drunk and passed out by her dead body, I fucking snapped. I made sure he was wide awake to see me put that bullet into his fucking head. My mom was a broken person, no doubt about it, but we took care of each other, and we were all the other had.
I buried my mom and killed my dad, ending their vicious cycle. I picked up and moved the fuck on with my young life, trying to make something out of myself the best way I knew how. I haven’t loved anybody like my mom since then, doubt I ever will. The only thing that comes close is my love for my club. I’m not even sure if love is the word I’d use, but I sure fuckin’ like it.
My loyalty is for my club and my love is for the road. That’s it. I have no family or friends outside the club. It’s this club and it’s people that are the only ties I have to this world.
I’ve been a patched member since the day I turned eighteen. I spent two years before becoming a member hanging around, doing shit for the brothers until I was old enough to prospect. Once I made prospect, I was five months in when I killed an asshole for a brother. I was patched in the next day. The rest is history.
Joining the club has been the only right decision I’ve made in life for me, no matter how anyone else sees it. Not a whole lot in my life matters to me, but this club is my fucking heart. I don’t want a family. Don’t want kids. Don’t want a wife. This is all I want in life. I eat, sleep, and breathe club life. That’s me, plain and simple.
A few hours later we’re all kicking back, having drinks and relaxing. It’s a Wednesday evening get together, and it’s off to a rowdy start. I’ve had to break up a fight, boot a few unwelcome assholes the fuck out of the club, and kicked Stitch’s ass in the ring. He’s nursing a busted nose and maybe some broken ribs, while I’m sporting a nice little cut along my cheekbone, but as of right now, shit is good.
Brothers, old ladies, kids, friends, prospects and bar bitches all mingle around the club, having a good time. Brothers are talking and drinking, bitches are laughing and gossiping, and the kids are screaming and running around. This is the only noise I enjoy.