Farming cactus isn’t for everyone.
Stick tried to keep this in mind as he watched his children head out to the fields. There was Jack in the lead, as always, headed for the plants that needed to be moved. Now that boy was something else. Only fifteen years old and he was discarding the gloves and protective gear they’d just gotten him for Christmas. Stick hadn’t tossed his gear away until he was married with two babies. Not Jack though. Jack walked out there, hands bare, face uncovered, with only his shovel to keep the spines from his flesh. Everyone knew the roots were just as dangerous as the leaves, but Jack had figured out how to make it work. Good boy that Jack.
His twin Jen hurried up behind him. Stick chuckled to himself. Jen was always a little bit late and a little bit disorganized, but she was never gonna let Jack out-do her. She knew Stick favored Jack because of his daredevil nature with the plants so he suspected she was attempting to gain some of that glory. On their way to the field Jack didn’t speak to Jen, as was his way, but Jen brought the water they would share throughout the day. She would pour cup after cup for him, even though he never asked. ‘Good girl,’ Stick thought.
Stick gazed out the window looking for the third one. Gall rose up in him and he thought again about the spoiled child that had emerged just when they had gotten the twins to the point where they could go to the fields alone. He remembered that day so well; the way Gwen looked and the way his brain wanted to make his fists flex and curl and wipe that smile off her face. How he willed them to stay still at his side. He remembered his own smile and how he’d hugged her, then told her he was going to the store to get them some ice cream.
Laying back in the front seat of his car getting the blowjob while the ice cream melted, he thought about his predicament. How many more years would he have to work in that damn field before he could retire and finally enjoy life? He remembered his rage building, his hands grabbing the whore’s hair tightly and holding her there until her muffled screams brought him to. She’d scrambled out of the car onto the pavement screaming obscenities at him. Stick put the car in gear, threw a fiver out the window, and drove home. He usually gave her ten but a fiver’s what you get when you don’t finish the job.
Gwen had named the boy Stack. He supposed she named him that so Stick would feel some sort of closeness to him, but it hadn’t worked. The boy just played with the tools, broke the pots, and cut his hands on the shards. Gwen babied him and never forced him to go to the fields. Jen was just as bad but occasionally he caught her being venomous to the boy. He smiled remembering how he’d overheard her tearing the little waste of space a new one because he’d spilled the cereal she had just poured for him. He hadn’t intervened either. The little shit deserved it.
On the other side of the driveway Stick saw Stack playing in the dirt. Stick watched him, and took a sip from his coffee cup. It had less vodka than usual but only because the bitch was watering it down. She didn’t think he knew but he knew.
‘Damn it!’ Stick thought, ‘Why does everyone have to be so difficult?’
He decided to go over there and beat Stack within an inch of his life. The room swayed and the cup slipped from his fingers and came crashing down on the counter, the shards catching Gwen in the face. He’d forgotten about her down there, his limp dick still in her mouth. Damn bitch couldn’t even get him hard anymore. He grabbed her hair and began forcing her harder and harder against him. He could hear her short whines of protest but he was close so he kept going. Only whores got a choice; bitches didn’t.
Katenotkatherine 