I'll poke your eyes out with a fork." He was fizzling like a
baking-soda volcano, saliva slicking his cheeks and nostrils and chin,
his eyes rolling.
Alan felt helplessness settle on him, weighing down his limbs. How could
he let him go? What else could he do? Was he going to have to sit on
Davey's shoulders until they were both old men?
"Please, Davey. I'm sorry about what I said. I just can't bring her
home, you understand," he said.
"Pervert. She's a slut and you're a pervert. I'll tear her titties off."
"Don't, Danny, please. Stop, okay?"
Darren bared his teeth and growled, jerking his head forward and
snapping at Alan's crotch, heedless of the painful thuds his head made
when it hit the ground after each lunge.
Alan waited to see if he would tire himself out, but when it was clear
that he would not tire, Alan waited for his head to thud to the ground
and then, abruptly, he popped him in the chin, leapt off of him turned
him on his belly, and wrenched him to his knees, twisting one arm behind
his back and pulling his head back by the hair. He brought Davey to his
feet, under his control, before he'd recovered from the punch.
"I'm telling Dad," he said in Davey's ear, and began to frog-march him
through to the cave mouth and down into the lake in the middle of the
mountain. He didn't even slow down when they reached the smooth shore of
the lake, just pushed on, sloshing in up to his chest, Davey's head
barely above the water.
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