Tales of Dickery: Stuart and the Deserted, Dirt Road

Alright, this one’s not really about Stuart being stupid or anything. This one was the result of him being a dick, and me having to trump him.

Stuart and the Deserted, Dirt Road
Stuart, myself and a friend of ours (Jason) were all on the way back home from football practice one evening. And it’s not like it was just across town. We all went to a small, private school that was about a 30 minute drive from home. And 80% of that was through the middle of nowhere.

So we’re on our way home and Stuart begins to act like the little douche that he truly was at that point. I mean, just mouthing off about anything and everything. I yell at him to shut up or I’m gonna make him pay for it. Nothing. He still keeps on, thinking that he has safety in the backseat of the car.

So I pull on to a long, dirt road just off the main road we were on. I slam on the brakes, he flies forward, and I bitch slap him right across the face; all in one perfectly choreographed sequence. (When Jason tells this story, he loves to emphasize the bitch slapping.)

Stuart in his stunned and extremely confused state had to have thought that was the end of it. A little corporal punishment and it’d be over. Not so much.

“Get the fuck out.”

“But…”

“Get. The. Fuck. Out!”

Stuart opens the door, backs out so that he can still keep an eye on me and my hands, and slowly closes the door. I throw the car in reverse and back down the dirt road and back onto the main road. I put it in drive and peel away leaving Stuart standing there in the middle of nowhere on a dirt road with nightfall coming on very quickly.

About 10 minutes later, Jason breaks his self-imposed silence.

“You’re gonna go back there for him, right?”

“Fuck him.”

“Seriously, dude. You’re gonna go home and leave him there in the middle of nowhere with God knows who or what to come along and Deliverance him?”

“Pretty much.”

“Your parents are going to murder you in your sleep. I don’t think they could take you while you’re awake, but still: you’re so freakin’ dead.”

“……”

I slam on the brakes, turn the car around, and head back to see if there was anything left of Stuart or his ego.

When we get there, we can’t even see Stuart on the road, and the darkfall with no moon or street lights didn’t help.

“Oh fuck. He’s dead.” Was all that Jason could say.

We sat there for a few seconds before I rolled down the window and yelled for him to get his punk ass in the car, at which point he bounded out of the brush on the side of the road like some scrawny, white bushman. He apparently had hidden in the brush because he saw and heard a rowdy bunch of rednecks coming down the road in a pickup, and realized that this was a good time to start being neither seen nor heard.

The rest of the way home was the longest period of time that I’ve ever heard Stuart quiet, even to this very day. He didn’t say shit for the rest of the night and was even good the next day too. But 2 days later he was a douche again.

D