The people of Lancet Falls, Idaho are changing, and it's all because of an otherworldly light that only a few can see, but the changes are affecting everyone. Animals are dying, people are disappearing, and what's with the men in jackets twenty year...
The voice of Jim Morrison singing Riders on the Storm woke Paul from his slumber. He always found the haunting tones of the Lizard King put him in the right headspace for his work. Most days, Paul could enjoy his chosen profession from the comfort and security of his Relaxzen Rocker, but today, he had an appointment. A bittersweet feeling always accompanied the days of his appointments. Paul loathed having to venture out in the real world for any length of time, but nothing compared to the look on a man's face when he realized his life had just been destroyed. It was moments like this that made life worth living.
Today, StylesFanXOXO (Paul Neiman) was finally going to meet BabyBaby713 (Joseph Banford), and it would be glorious. Paul really did love his job. He loved the months of digging and groundwork it took to find a suitable candidate. He loved curating the perfect personality tailored to the desires and needs of his intended target. Last but not least, he loved the monthly payments he received when the man he had agreed to meet realized Paul was not indeed an adolescent girl that shared his love of One Direction.
At the age of thirteen, Paul realized the art of blackmail was his calling. Paul had always been an invisible child, or at least as invisible as a morbidly obese kid could have been. From hours and hours of sitting in front of his television and studying human behavior, Paul gained an intimate understanding of the inner workings of mankind. The human race, by and large, was infected with disgusting creatures, merely pretending to have transcended an animalistic state, but in reality, they still acted on their most secretive, base desires, like every other living thing. The difference between humankind and the rest of the animal kingdom was that most people were too proud, or even ashamed, to admit their sinful truth. Paul learned this lesson the hard way.
When Paul was eleven, his father flew the coop and shacked up with the John Deere model that he'd been sticking it to. That was the last Paul and his mom had heard from the bastard. Joyce Neiman, a woman not known for her beauty or self-worth, was decimated by the loss, and Paul was left pick up the pieces.
Paul and his mother had always shared a special bond, the bond of a mother and her baby boy. Joyce Neiman was the only person that looked at Paul with any degree of warmth or compassion, even Paul's father could only manage looks of thinly veiled disgust.
For as long as he could remember, every night before he went to bed, his mom told him that he was the most handsome boy in the whole wide world. Each night, Paul told her how much he loved her in reply, even after he realized she was just telling him comforting lies. Above all else, Joyce loved to cook for Paul, spoiling him with a cornucopia of sweets and baked delights; Paul loved food just as much as he loved his mother.
Enter stage sight: Trent Curts. Trent was opportunistic trailer trash that sensed his mother's wounded psyche like chum in the water. Perfect stepfather material.Trent Curts hated Paul from the minute he strutted into their lives. He viewed anything that took Joyce's attention as a threat. Although Trent was a stupid son of a bitch, he was cunning in his own way. Right from the start, he realized Paul was the key to Joyce's heart. Trent set to work showering Paul with gifts and attention. He bought Paul a Huffy bike and forced him to play catch. Paul loathed every second of it, but Joyce fell for the routine hook, line, and sinker. In less than six months after her divorce, Joyce Neiman became Joyce Curts.
After another six months, the real Trent Curts moved in. This Trent loved to stay out late playing poker with his buddies. On good nights, he came home with gifts. On bad nights, he came home with a chip on his shoulder and a closed fist, or a baseball bat on really bad nights. Hearing his mother's sobs punctuated by heavy thuds broke Paul's heart. From that point on, Paul hid his mother in his bedroom on poker nights. She stayed there until Trent ran out of steam wailing away on Paul. He could live with a few broken bones if it meant he didn't have to listen to her cry anymore.
When Paul turned thirteen, he decided to do something about it. He noticed changes in Trent's behavior. Trent's job required him to work late more and more often, and the once nightly beatings, had turned into a weekly affair. It became painfully obvious to Paul that Trent was hiding something. Paul bought a disposable camera and decided to stakeout Trent's work to see if he was indeed "working late." As it turned out, Paul's intuition was rewarded.
Trent left work at five o'clock on the dot with Paul tailing his car huffing and puffing on his Huffy bike. Five minutes later, he arrived at a seedy motel with Trent's red Mustang parked in front of one of the rooms. Paul sat at the window watching his stepfather engage in animalistic acts for over forty-five minutes; he'd used up all the film during the first five. Afterward, Paul hopped on his bike and went to the nearest Fotomat. Paul received his photos, and the attendant got a new Huffy bike. He had three sets of copies made: one for Trent and two for insurance. The following day, he confronted Trent and threatened to tell Trent's boss and Paul's mother.
That was how Paul earned his weekly twenty-dollar allowance and stopped the beatings for good.
Paul used his gift sparingly throughout his teenage years. He lacked the work ethic and the resources it would have required for anything big. However, he wasn't against the occasional usage for an A on his report card or maybe a hand job in the school parking lot. As his college years approached, he thought being a lawyer made the most sense concerning his particular skill set. Paul made it all the way to law school until he realized the hard work of an office job didn't suit him. It did give him an idea about his future career, however.
He'd always been interested in the darker side of human nature. Like a moth to a flame, Paul gravitated towards criminal law, and that was where he discovered Frank Abagnale Jr., the greatest conman of all time. He became Paul's muse. Paul didn't have as much ambition as Frank. Ambition was too much work. Paul was content biding his time and living comfortably until he could enact his revenge.
After a few deep breaths, Paul tightened his abdominal muscles and thrust his body out of the recliner. Buried beneath several layers of cushioning, his abs still got the job done. The effort was less difficult than it had been for a long time.
I must be more excited for my appointment than I thought.
The crinkling of a half-empty bag of Doritos punctuated his first step out of the chair. He braced himself for the familiar protest of his ankles and knees when they had to bear his full weight, but it never happened. A smile crept across his face. It really was going to be a good day.
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Author's Note
Alright, guys I know Paul is a bit of a scumlord, but is he still likable in his own twisted way? I know I love writing him.
Alright, here is your daily propaganda. Please vote. It really helps me out.
Lastly, tell me your thoughts! Does Paul's past justify his lifestyle? Why was it so easy for him to get up?
