Creative Writing: Funroe Monument Zoo

The better half of the last day of human civilization was rather boring and extremely uninteresting for most of mankind, even the few who felt they knew the ifs, ands, buts, speculations, and coming of the apocalypse. As the Monday morning lunch rush proceed with unintelligible yells and upward thrust middle fingers, no one had a clue something more eventful than a twenty cent increase in gas prices was going to happen. They had a whole morning of blissful, uneventful lives before it all cascaded into one pile of dung that smashed into the metaphorical fan of our little, mundane humanity.
Due to this bliss, life was going on as normal which meant all of the fabulous Funroe, Louisiana attractions were still open, including the Gun's R us shooting range, Skate World and the widely covenanted Funroe Monument Zoo.
Of all the people enjoying the people oblivious to the impending doom, there was one man who knew something absolutely terrible was going to happen because his day was already absolutely awful and those things tend to escalate.
Marcus Oliver had been jerked from his soundless slumber by the ringing of his doorbell, a slap in the face from some girl he couldn't place, and a ridiculously terrible hangover. He was taking a break from
his numerous hours wasted on computer RPGs in his boring office job and numerous hours spent entertaining various women after work on his spring filled mattress. He had called in sick but wasn't really sick at all. Most of the time when Marcus called in sick it was to get over a surprisingly strong hangover-similar to the one he had that morning- or to finish up a few loose ends with a matron of the night. Today, at his annoying Mother in law's request, he was stuck accompanying his first and only -thank God- offspring Conroy out on a day of fun.
How freaking fun.
Conroy was actually the result of a condom one of Marcus's randoms had destroyed with a safety pin when she found out he was also renting his bed out to several others. It wasn't like he attempted to hide the fact, but she either didn't want to accept the fact, or was incredibly stupid.
That accounted for the boy's existence, but not his strangeness, which may have been accounted to the numerous times his inexperienced father dropped him on his head. Now outfitted with a star trek jacket, a brightly colored red knit hat, and a bow tied button-up, the poor seven year old was likely to not make it very far in life without being brutally bullied, or at least pushed around a little by many others other than his father.
"Marcus, we r-r-r-really need ta slow down!" Conroy pleaded as his white knuckles gripped tighter to the edges of his booster seat. Any seven year old would be embarrassed to still be confined to a booster seat, but when he rode with Marcus, that was perfectly okay with Conroy. Actually, he wouldn't have minded roller coaster restraints. Anything to make him feel safe with his nascar driver wannabe father.
"What are you talking about Conroy, you redneck hick? We are only going fifty miles per hour! We don’t need TA slow down. What is a ‘ta’ anyways?" Marcus growled in annoyance, his temper already beginning to get the better of him as he sulked like a pitiful child, making fun of the boy's thick accent, one of his favorite targets.
"In a school zone! There a-a-are CHILDREN!" Conroy exclaimed in terror as he watched a stray cat fall victim to his father's tires. He covered his eyes with his tiny hands, letting out a sequel as Marcus ran a stop sign. They were escorted by the honks of an entourage of cars, their drives flashing rude gestures and shouting curses in their direction. Today was going awfully and his mind found all the ways possible to make it Conroy's fault even though he knew this thought process was highly irrational. He had been assaulted by the spunky brunette because the boy had been creating a ruckus by ringing the doorbell and banging on the door like a nut case. Conroy had an irrational fear of the dark and since he had been visiting with his mom the previous week, she had dropped him off as early as she could. So, at five in the morning, Conroy was bellowing at the door like he was being pursued by John Wayne Gacy. This woman, as stupid as they come, had squealed, her paranoid and probably still drug hazed mind thinking he was a small cop. "You called the cops on me didn't you!" she had yelled shoving Marcus backwards into a lamp, burning his back with the small bulb. All her yelling had made him think that the burning was from a gunshot and that he was going to die, and that he seriously had sex with someone else if it was going to be his last time.
"Blehrr…..W-W-What?" Was all he could reply with after he realized he was not bleeding to death..
"Having sex isn't illegal." He groaned in a half daze rubbing his hands over his face, really wishing they hadn't finished off his alcohol supply sometime during the night.
That is when she had slapped him with all the force of a greek god.. "It is when you escaped from jail earlier that day!"
Okay, so turns out she had brutally murdered and sodomized three men with a plastic recorder in three different states. Okay, so it turns out that Marcus had really crummy decision making skills. Okay, so it turns out Conroy didn't influence his mind to sleep with a murderer and may have saved him from death and humiliation. To Marcus, none of this even mattered. It was definitely all the poor boy’s fault.
"Oh Conroy, knock it off you miniture primadonna! We are perfectly fine." Marcus said with a chuckle, actually enjoying himself as he slid his sunglasses over his eyes. His mind drifted into a daydream of him being Tom Cruise. "Don't be such a baby, and uncover your eyes, you queer, little wuss!"
"I do n-n-not wish for the last thing I see to be our impendin' DOOM!" Conroy groaned melodramatically, squeezing the neck of his beloved teddy bear, almost not even taking note of Marcus's insult. He knew Marcus was a terrible human, but he also knew rebelling was not worth the possible abuse.
"Conroy! It's fine! Really! It’s f-f-f-f-f-f-fine." Marcus laughed as he made fun of the boy’s stutter. Conroy tended to stutter when he faced intense emotion like fear.
Marcus laughed as he dented in a few trash cans, actually having fun now that he was imagining himself as an action hero. Every trash can was twenty points, a cat was fifty, and scaring a person getting their paper was one hundred. As he roared past an elderly woman who was getting her paper, causing her to scream and fall flat on her behind, he totaled his score at two hundred and ten. He had accepted the fact that he was going to Hell several years ago, so had made a pact to just enjoy the ride.
"This is n-n-n-n-ot the d-d-d-definition of fine Marcus!" Conroy squealed clutching his stomach, daring to protest because Marcus seemed to be in a good mood.. He was prone to motion sickness, and he felt as if his stomach was being engulfed by a tornado. "I don't want to die before I finish watching Stargate on N-N-Netflix!"
Marcus ran a red light. Several cars slammed quickly on their breaks to avoid hitting the small green truck which looked as if one hit would send it exploding into a cloud of dust. Conroy squirmed uncomfortably as he uncovered his eyes, groaning loudly.
"Nice q-q-quiet walks are fine!
Nature d-d-d-documentaries are fine! Do ya' even know the meaning of the word!?" He protested loudly, not even caring if it would make Marcus mad anymore. He was really scared and valued his life more than he feared a possible beating. He sighed and slumped down in his seat when he realized Marcus wasn’t even paying any attention anymore. He reasoned that it was probably for the best because his yelling would have just made Marcus angry. Still, as tears welled in his small eyes, Conroy wished his dad would just take the time to listen to his pleas of fear and make all the monsters go away. He suppressed a sniffle as he realized that was impossible, because monsters don’t make other monsters go
away.
Marcus stared down his sunglasses at the two southern bells wearing just enough fabric to be decent but not enough to satisfy their grandmothers. It always appealed to him when he could get a glimpse of what the stork saw. Both girls smiled at him as he roared past, making him wish he had enough time to stop and ask for their numbers. He didn’t notice Conroy crying over the sound of his heart as it began to race. He took in every curl of the girls, every perfectly round breast and every-
"MARCUS!" Conroy suddenly screamed, panic lacing his voice. "L-L-LOOK OUT!"
Marcus snapped out of his daydream and screamed loudly as he slammed on his breaks. The truck let out an excruciating screech as it attempted to roar to a halt. The eighteen wheeler's horn blared as the driver also skidded, the smell of burning rubber filling the air. Marcus let out a series of swears as he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, gawking at how close that was to being a wreck.
Conroy flashed him a small smirk through the rear view mirror, unable to help himself.
"Conroy, if you say 'I told you so', I will end your tiny life." Marcus growled as he started to back up the truck, the tension filling the air.
Conroy looked down at the floor knowing good and well that that was not a jocular jab. Marcus really meant it. Yes, he did love his father, and yes, he was sure that Marcus still held some love for him, but their relationship had always been..... Difficult.
Sure, Marcus never hit him much anymore, but the shadow of their former confrontations still loomed over anytime they spent together. Conroy was always fearful that he would get hit again like he did before his parents got divorced. He didn't really see either of them that much anymore, but that was probably a good thing. But... sometimes late at night when he was all alone at his grandmother's house, Conroy would cry and pray to God that Marcus still hit him. He wished that he still lived in their musty, mildew smelling house and that his parents still argued all the time. At least then, he's still have his family. At least then he would have the movie nights when they would all smile. At least then he could make a happy family drawing at school again. At his grandmother's house, all he had was a cat that affected his allergies and the constant worry that the very ill and neglectful woman would turn up dead in the morning.
He gripped his stitched and worn teddy bear and stared out the window, praying to God that something would happen while they were at the zoo to fix his family.