3WW (Demure, Offend, Volatile): Stupid Is...

‘I don’t mean to offend…’ John didn’t finish the sentence.

‘Well, you have. Good night, sir,’ the butler said curtly and shut the door with assertive finality.

John stared at the lion knocker attached to the ornate white door and considered his options for reentry. He would not allow an arrogant butler and an overly sensitive young woman ruin his shot at redemption.

He knocked, loudly. The butler answered discourteously, ‘Have you no concept of the negative?’

‘What?’

In vernacular common to those raped by your kind, no means no. Good night, sir.
John anticipated the next move and wedged his right foot into the center of the door. The adrenaline dulled the pain he felt from his old football injury.

‘Good God, sir. What do you think you’re doing?’

‘I’m coming in,’ he growled. ‘Move!’

The butler attempted to push the door, but his strength paled in comparison. John leaned back to his left and catapulted his upper body at the middle section of the door. The butler reeled backwards and hit a mahogany table sending the kaleidoscopic glass piece crashing to the bamboo floor. John stood over the middle aged man as if the victor of some ancient battle.

John did not make eye contact with the butler. ‘Just tell me where he is. You know I know this house. And I’ll tear it apart to find him.’

Obviously distressed and suddenly demure, the butler spoke in whispering tones, ‘the master of the house is in the bedroom.’

‘Thanks,’ he said under his breath, remembering the manners his mother had hammered into him.

He climbed the stairs, unsure of his next move. He never really thought about next moves; he simply made them.

At the top of the stairs stood the young woman.

‘He doesn’t want to see you,’ she attempted to say with attitude. She couldn’t hide her fear.

‘Listen, tramp, if I want your opinion, you’ll give it to me.’ He wasn’t particularly adept at delivering the one-liner.

She stepped back as he approached the top stair.

‘Look, bitch, are you gonna try to do somethin? If not, get the hell outta the way.’

The only motion she made was backing up against the wall.

He didn’t knock. When he entered he saw the giant of a man in his specially crafted wing-backed auburn chair. His hair was grayer than he remembered. His jowls had begun to sag like misshapen breasts. His eyes were closed.

‘Hello, John’ he bellowed.

It was the only voice that could give John pause.

‘You are a volatile prick now aren’t you? I’ve asked not to be bothered, but you obviously have something pressing to share.’ He kept his eyes shut.

John said nothing; he couldn’t think of anything to say. He had never practiced the lines in his head. In fact, he had never imagined this day would come. He had assumed death would come first.

‘ Look, son, you have about five minutes before my security detail comes up here and breaks your legs. I’ve personally asked them to wait at the front door for that long to give you the chance to talk, shoot, or do whatever else you came to do. But if I know you at all, I’d imagine you’re wondering what the hell to do next.’ The old man paused. His voice became suddenly soft, but no less commanding. ‘You’re not that bright of a guy, John. So, let me save you some of your precious brain power. The woman I killed wasn’t your mother. She treated you like a son, but she wasn’t your mother. And I’m not your father. It’s embarrassing enough that you’re related to me in some sense, but at least it’s not by me inseminating another woman. Let me put it straight, John. You’re a mistake, a science experiment gone wrong. I cloned myself; you’re the result. And you’ve been a pain in my ass ever since. A thoughtless, useless bastard. Well, I think it’s time I declare the experiment concluded.’ His eyelids parted to reveal fierce pale blue eyes. ‘Times up…’

The old man stared into the eyes of the head of his security detail. John had disappeared.

‘Find him,’ the old man ordered.