Mice and Men--- By Carnage

I aimed cautiously at the backboard, my eyes fixed on the red square looming over the hoop. I dribbled the orange basketball, bouncing it through my legs, behind me, and then pausing to aim and listen for the echo to mimic the sound. I can remember hearing something crash in the distance, somewhat like a trash can falling over. It was very faint, mundane enough that I shrugged it off and brought the ball up over my head and prepared for my shot. It was then that I heard a new sound. It wavered up and down, high pitch, then low pitch, then joined by a chorus of more. A slapping sound was tossed in the heap, soon followed by yet another crashing noise. I dropped the ball and peered at the big school building, sitting there blankly as if waiting for me to say something to it. I heard the sounds ring out from behind it and began to jog over. "So. You're gonna cry now, are ya, runt? Well your mommy isn't here to help ya so what are you gonna do now?" came a cocky voice from behind it. I tried to place the voice to a face in my memory but couldn't, but when I heard the choked, pain filled whining that followed, I knew exactly who it was. "Why are you doing this?" came a smaller, higher voice. "I just asked her for her E-mail. She's my friend." "She's my GIRLFRIEND runt!" came the larger voice. I heard a dull thud and a sharp stab of laughter and realized it was Alvin Sneery, who was probably writhing on the ground, surrounded by Billy Dorsey and his goons. I knew Alvin wasn't a very big kid. Whenever he stopped me in the hallway and I gave him a friendly slap on the back, I was always afraid I would hurt the little guy. He fainted at a spot of blood from a picked scab. Now it was probably gushing from his lip. "I swear... I'll... Get you for this... You can't even... face me... alone..." came the whining again. I knew they were beating him within an inch of his life, and for the first time, I felt like I could help. With a new, warm sense of pride, I stormed around the edge of the building, seeing the same vision that had been in my head the moment before. A broken and bruised Alvin slumped on the ground, being constantly prodded with dirty old sneakers. "Billy! What do you think you're doing?" I yelled, trying to sound as tough as I could. He turned around slowly, shoving one hand into his pocket, giving me the middle finger with the other. "I'm teaching Einstein a lesson in flirting with me girlfriend," he said, grinning in the greasy way I despised terribly. "If you wanna do something about it, take his place." At that, the group of boys formed a circle, laughing and pointing at me. I popped my knuckles and glanced over to where Alvin had been laying. He was gone. "Come on," he said, smirking. "Tell you what. I'll give you the first swing. I'll put both hands in my pockets. Come on, Hit me." I approached cautiously. I wondered what was hidden in his pockets. Finally, he turned to see Alvin again. "Oh well. I guess we'll just have to catch him after school again and--" After that, I dived at his waist, slamming my whole weight into his waist and we both crashed heavily to the ground. Billy groaned to his feet and removed a small black object. With a tiny FLINK, a sharp little blade flipped out. "I'm gonna cut so many holes in you you'll be able to pee through your chest," he said. I ran at him again, backing away when he swiped his knife at me. It glinted in the sunlight. I could see he was nervous, glancing behind him every few seconds and switching it from hand to hand. That's when Alvin decided to help me. "No!" I cried, but by then it was too late. Alvin had climbed onto the loading ramp and leapt off, slamming hard into Billy's shoulders. On instinct, I guess, Billy slashed the knife behind him-- and with a thick sound similar to the sound you hear when slicing a watermelon- I saw alvin fall. Billy held the knife up to his face and saw that it was deep red, the blood oozing off the sharp tip and splotching his jacket. He dropped it and began to run, his combat boots slapping the pavement and carrying him away to where he thought he would be safe. His goons scattered like flies, leaving me with Alvin and the bloody knife. I crouched down to where he sputtered and coughed, flailing like a wounded spider. Alvin didn't really suffer before he died. He began to cry a little as the front of his shirt turned deep maroon, nearly black. I thought he had passed out from the pain, but eventually I realized he was no longer breathing, his tiny little chest as still as the air around us. I picked up his glasses from the ground and layed them on his chest, right next to where I saw the large, S shaped slash on his lower chest. I began to sob as I heard sirens wailing in the distance. As it turned out, a lady nearby had saw the fight beginning and called the police. She had no idea Billy had killed Alvin, but when the police got there they thanked her for doing so anyway. Billy and his friends were captured later on that very day, and Billy has yet to be released from prison. The bottom of Alvin's right lung had been completely severed, along with the top of his stomach. Billy's family paid for his funeral, although I don't think it helped matters much. I am 38 now, and I can still feel the pain after watching the tiny white casket being placed in the hearse. I wonder if there was anything I could have done to prevent it. Maybe if I hadn't bothered them, Alvin might still be alive today. Billy would have beaten him, but at least he would be alive. I guess there really is no meek and mighty, no comparison of mice to men. In the end, everyone is the same, and Billy, Me and even little Alvin learned that on that lonely summer day in July.