"Give Me The Remote" Pt. 02

Donald took one look at Swan and knew there was absolutely no way he could possibly be the girl's father. She had a few strands of pink hair, and almond shaped gray blue eyes. Right across the gravel drive from their trailer was Swan's twin. Soleil had a few strands of pink hair and almond shaped blue gray eyes.

Donna calmly sat, nursing Swan, daring Donald to say anything. She smirked when the defeated man simply turned and fixed supper for Hunter and Chantilly.

>>.>>.>>

Hunter took the sheets of paper home to the trailer he and Chantilly and Swan and Forrest and Fawn shared with Donald and Donna. He carefully secreted the papers underneath his mattress; he wasn't afraid of his mother or Donald finding out he planned to join the US Marines the moment he had his high school diploma in his hand. He just didn't want the conversation that was sure to follow should his mother or sisters or brother find out.

Hunter left the bedroom he and Forrest shared and entered the kitchen. He got out the eight leg quarters and cleaned them, then decided he'd do a quick and simple oven barbeque for them. There were two potatoes on the verge of going bad if he didn't do something with them, so he diced them and boiled them for a potato salad.

"Potato salad? Yuck, I hate potato salad," Forrest claimed as he barged into the kitchen.

"Yeah, I know. That's why I'm making it," Hunter said.

"String beans? Hunter, string beans are gross," Fawn said.

"Yeah, I know. Why I'm making them," Hunter said.

"Hey, I uh, I don't see none of y'all cooking," Swan said, hugging Hunter from behind.

Hunter smiled. No matter what he cooked, Forrest and Chantilly and Fawn would complain. And Swan would come to Hunter's defense.

"How come you wasn't at school today?" Chantilly complained, sticking her head in the kitchen.

"Uh, seniors finished their exams yesterday?" Hunter reminded her. "I'm off until next week's graduation."

"What?" Chantilly screeched. "How is that fair?"

"I just don't know how to tell you this, so I'm just going to say it," Hunter said, slipping the cookie sheet of drop biscuits into the oven. "Life isn't fair."

"Ha ha," Chantilly groused.

"Thanks for cooking," Donald said as he came into the trailer.

"Welcome," Hunter said, fighting to keep the animosity out of his voice.

"There any...Hunter, you drink the last beer?" Donna demanded, swinging the door of the refrigerator open.

"No," Hunter said, looking over his mother's shoulder as Chantilly beat a hasty retreat.

"Been home all day and going tell me you ain't drank up..." Donna accused, slamming the door of the appliance shut.

"Look around, Mother," Hunter snapped. "Place is clean. I got dinner going. I even done the dishes y'all just left in the sink. When'd I have time drink your nasty ass beer, huh?"

"Donald," Donna shrilly ordered.

"Tell her no, tell her no, tell her no, come on, grow a pair," Hunter muttered to himself. "Tell her get off her fat ass and get it herself."

Hunter sighed and shook his head as the door of the trailer slammed shut. He continued to prepare their dinner, even brewing a large pitcher of tea to go with the meal.

"You going to Violet's graduation party?" Chantilly asked Hunter as the family sat to eat.

Before Hunter could reply to the negative, Chantilly informed Donna and Donald that Violet said she'd bought five hundred dollars' worth of weed for the party. Donna looked sharply at Hunter. Donald slammed his fork down and stared hard at Hunter.

"Well, then, mister; you're not going to Violet Meynard's party," Donald ordered.

Hunter stared hard at the smirking face of his sister. He would not bring his eyes to Donald's face; he was afraid he'd punch the scrawny man's face in. Hunter was afraid, if he punched Donald, he would not stop until Donald lay lifeless on the floor.

"You hear me?" Donald shrilled.

"Yeah, I heard you," Hunter forced himself to say slowly and evenly. "And I wasn't going anyway."

"You hear me? You're not going," Donald repeated himself.

"I said I'm not," Hunter snapped staring harder at his smirking sister. "But uh, ever think to ask Chantilly how she knows about the party? Or the weed? And, ever think of checking under the lamp in Chantilly's bedroom? There's no bottom to it; that's where she's been hiding her weed."

"You ass hole!" Chantilly screamed at her brother.

Donna leapt to her feet. Donald and Chantilly also leapt to their feet and the trio raced to the bedroom that Chantilly, Swan and Fawn shared.

Hunter kept stoically eating his dinner. Forrest, Fawn and Swan paid attention to the screaming coming from the girls' bedroom.

"Eat, before it gets cold," Hunter gently told Forrest, Fawn and Swan.

Forrest certainly could have been Donald's child; he had the same mousy brown hair and mud brown eyes as Donald, and Donna. But Fawn had bright red hair, a dark orange hair and light green eyes, the same hair and eyes as their cousin Lacy. Knowing the contempt Cousin Linda felt for Donald, Hunter very seriously doubted that Donald Davis was the father of Lacy Adams. And, mapping genetic traits, Donald Davis could not be the father of Fawn Davis.

"You fucking ass hole," Chantilly sobbed at Hunter.

"Hey, Chantilly, maybe in the future, you'll keep your mouth shut about shit, huh?" Hunter shrugged as he finished his dinner

"And you, you're not hanging out with this Violet Meynard no more, hear?" Donald demanded of Hunter.

"Uh huh," Hunter said after a long moment of staring hard at Donald.

In the morning, Hunter helped Donald and Donna get Forrest and Fawn ready for school. He also made lunches for Chantilly and Swan and Forrest and Fawn. He made Forrest grin and Fawn laugh when he wrote 'Snake Bite Davis' on Forrest's lunch bag.

"Thanks, Hunter," Swan beamed up as she took the offered lunch bag from Hunter's hand.

"Ass hole," Chantilly groused, jerking the offered lunch bag from Hunter's hand.

"Hey, Chantilly, might be hard to believe," Hunter said, grabbing his sister in a tight embrace. "But I love you."

"Yeah, whatever, ass hole," Chantilly groused, stomping away.

"You love me?" Fawn asked, batting her eyes playfully at Hunter.

"You? The way you smell?" Hunter screeched, making Forrest laugh and Fawn squeal in displeasure.

"Yeah, I love you bunches," Hunter admitted and kissed the girl on her cheek.

"Hear me? Need stay away from that Violet Meynard," Donald again ordered as he and Donna left the trailer.

"Uh huh, what the fuck ever, pussy," Hunter said to the closed door.

Alone in the trailer, Hunter searched for and found the documents the United States Marine Corps requested. He jogged from trailer to the high school and asked the school secretary to send his high school transcripts and diploma to the recruiting office.

Three days after his first visit to the recruiting office, Hunter walked in and asked the recruiting officer if he'd received the paperwork from the high school. The man nodded and accepted the other documentation from Hunter.

"Be here on the nineteenth, boy," the man said. "Five thirty. Yes, that's in the A and M."

"Don't call me 'Boy,' Sargent," Hunter said and gave a smart salute.

Returning home, Hunter mentally flipped a coin; go over to Violet's house for some pussy and some beer, or do a little housework. Hunter did not like weed, did not smoke the stuff, but he did like beer and he really liked pussy. Violet's dad had a keg of Gratchley's on tap and Violet had a shaved pussy and a hot mouth.

With a sigh, Hunter decided the trailer needed cleaning. He could go over to Violet's tomorrow, or the next day.

"Hey," Swan and her sister, Soleil Brown entered first. The girls were nearly identical; it was hard to differentiate one from the other from a few feet away. Until they opened their mouths. Soleil was wearing shiny metallic braces and Swan was not.

"Hi," Hunter smiled at the two preening, giggling girls. "What'd you do today?"

"Nothing," was the answer he expected and "Nothing" was the response he got.

"Really? Spent the whole day, from eight fifteen to two forty five and did nothing? The whole day?" Hunter teased and the two girls giggled and simpered.

"Oh, okay, whatever. Oh! Hey! Here's an idea? Why don't you two go to your room and do nothing?" Hunter teased. "Oh. Unless you're already finished doing nothing."

"Shut up," Soleil giggled.

"Yeah, shut up," Swan giggled.

"You believe this?" Forrest complained, slamming into the trailer. "That bitch, Ms. Holcomb? She's wanting us do this stupid thing on those stupid Aztecs! You believe that?"

"Oh my God! The stupid Aztecs? Not the smart ones? Just the stupid ones?" Hunter asked which caused Fawn to giggle.

"Shut up, Fawn, you making him think he's funny," Forrest complained.

"He is funny; funnier than you," Fawn said. "And I got do the same thing. We do it together, it'll go a lot better."

"Hey Forrest, know the difference between you and Fawn?" Hunter asked, digging two pounds of ground beef from the refrigerator. "She's a pretty smart feller and you a pretty fart smeller."

"Fuck you, ass hole," Chantilly greeted Hunter as she stomped to her bedroom.

That night, Donna snapped a 'thanks' at Hunter for preparing spaghetti and meat sauce for supper. Donald echoed his wife's thanks. Hunter just nodded.

He did not know what horrible mistake Donald had committed but Hunter saw Donald dig the blanket and pillow from the closet next to the bi-fold doors that hid the washing machine and dryer. He looked with contempt as the weak-willed man prepared to sleep on the couch.

Hunter had looked at Forrest and Fawn when Donna brought them home and looked at Donald. Even though both babies were still wrinkled looking infants, Hunter could see that Fawn and his cousin Lacy shared many similarities. At Seven years of age, Hunter did not know about genealogy, DNA, familial traits. Looking at four year old Swan, Hunter could see the child was beautiful; just like Aunt Willow. In fact, Swan looked just like Aunt Willow's little girl, Soleil.

As Hunter grew older, as his siblings grew older, the stark differences between him and his siblings, between his siblings and Donald Davis were too glaring to ignore. One Saturday morning, stumbling sleepily from his bedroom to the kitchen to make himself breakfast, Hunter saw his father sleeping on the couch. Hunter went into the kitchen, cleaned the coffee pot which still had Friday morning's dregs in it, and made a fresh pot of coffee.

"Thanks, son," Donald smiled tiredly as Hunter placed a mug of coffee onto the chipped, wobbling pressboard coffee table.

"So why you put up with it?" Hunter asked as his dad wiggled into an upright position.

"I uh, what?" Donald asked, picking up the mug of coffee.

"Swan's not yours, Forrest and Fawn ain't yours neither; why you put up with it?" Hunter asked.

"I uh, now how you know they ain't mine?" Donald tried to bluster.

"Come on," Hunter scoffed.

"I uh, I love her," Donald admitted.

"And why you let her put you on the couch?" Hunter pressed. "Ain't this your trailer?"

"Look, maybe when you get a little older, maybe you'll understand about love and marriage and stuff," Donald snapped, angered that he could offer no real answers to his son's questions.

"And you love her. She ever say she loves you?" Hunter pressed on, driving the nails deeper into his father's soul.

"Look, I don't have to..." Donald said hotly.

Hunter looked at the man he called 'Dad' and lost all respect for him. He shook his head and returned to the kitchen to dig the two cans of bargain brand cinnamon rolls out of the fridge.

Now, looking at his father as Donald prepared to sleep on the couch, Hunter just shook his head. He could not remember ever seeing his mother on the couch, even though, in Hunter's eyes, Donna certainly committed more offenses than Donald ever could commit.

In the morning, while Donald groggily roused from the couch, Hunter again made breakfast and prepared lunches for Chantilly, Swan, Forrest and 'Snaggle-Tooth' Davis. Fawn squealed indignantly and Hunter crossed out 'Snaggle-Tooth' and wrote 'T. Rex Davis' instead.

"Hunter!" Fawn giggled, stamping her foot. "Be nice!"

Again, Chantilly snarled a hateful barb at Hunter, and again, he hugged her and told her he loved her. Swan didn't wait for Hunter to hug her, she hugged him and softly kissed his cheek before following Chantilly out the door. Forrest grudgingly gave his brother a high five and Fawn accepted her hug and kiss.

After everyone left, Hunter dressed and went to Violet's trailer. Her father was home, but had dragged himself home at three in the morning, drunk and a little wired on some illicit substances. His snores were immense, even with his bedroom door firmly shut.

Violet admitted to having 'a few problems down there' so Hunter accepted a noisy and sloppy blow job from the chubby girl.

"You uh, you ever think of us you know, maybe getting married?" Violet asked, causing Hunter to choke on the mouthful of beer he'd been swallowing.

"I mean, you know, we don't got get married; shit, we could you know, just live together," Violet hastened to amend.

Hunter drank two more beers and accepted a second blow job from Violet. He then asked her when she was planning to tell him about her and Scott Ferran, or Bobby Toombs, or Terrell Jefferson.

"I uh, what?" Violet stammered. "I ain't, I mean, you know."

Violet continued to stammer as Hunter pulled up his jeans and zipped them. Her words went from stammering lies and excuses to an angry and bitter snarl as Hunter walked to the door of the trailer.

"Well, maybe if you wasn't such a shitty boyfriend I wouldn't need to fuck around, huh?" Violet screamed, which brought an interruption to her father's snores.

"I am not my father's son," was Hunter's cryptic response before he loudly slammed the door of her trailer.

"Fucking ass hole," Violet screamed after Hunter, now hearing her father's heavy footsteps on the floor of his bedroom.

Despite Donald's declarations that Hunter was not to go to Violet Meynard's party, less than an hour after the long, tedious graduation ceremony dragged to a merciful end, Hunter was in Violet's trailer. He smiled as Violet brazenly made out with Scott Ferran, making sure that Hunter could see them.

Hunter did leave after Jeff Wolcort produced some meth and people began to snort the drug. Violet and Jeff had provided the guests with some very tightly rolled joints and several of the recent graduates smoked the free weed. Hunter stuck to beer, and when the hard stuff came out, he left.

Afterward, Hunter heard from Scott Ferran, shortly after the meth came out, Violet pulled a train, fucking nearly every guy that had attended the party. Tanya Sellers, not to be outdone, had also fucked nearly every guy in attendance.

Somehow the news of the drugs and sexual hijinks reached Chantilly's ears. With obvious glee, Chantilly waited until everyone was seated at the dinner table. As they began to eat the chicken stir-fry that Hunter had prepared, Chantilly asked Hunter if he'd done any of the drugs or fucked either Violet or Tanya at the party.

"I did not," Hunter said calmly. "Remember? I wasn't at that party; I was at the Cotton Bowl, bowling with Tricky Rick and Timmy."

"Oh! You lying," Chantilly sneered. "Scott Ferran said you was there."

"I thought I told you..." Donald shrilled at Hunter.

"Want to call Rick? Or Timmy?" Hunter yelled at Donald. "Huh? Instead of just believing every bit of bull shit comes out of Chantilly's face? And, uh, Chantilly, how you even know anything about Violet's party, huh? Maybe that's what y'all ought be asking her. How's she always know about this shit? How's she know about this shit long before I do?"

On the eighteenth of June, Hunter went to Violet Meynard's trailer, drank some of her father's beer and fucked Violet to three screaming orgasms. Pulling out, Hunter knotted the condom and tossed it into the kitchen wastebasket. Then he kissed her as he prepared to leave.

"I, I'm pregnant," Violet admitted.

"Way you been fucking around? Not surprised," Hunter said, walking to the door.

"You, you don't care?" Violet shrilled. "Huh? I'm carrying your baby and you don't fucking care?"

"Ain't mine. We been using condoms," Hunter said, opening the door of the trailer.

"They ain't a hundred percent," Violet yelled angrily.

"I'm not my father's son," Hunter smiled and left the trailer.

That night, Hunter lay in his bed, watching the alarm clock as the digital numerals blinked and advanced, one minute at a time. He'd been told to bring a twenty dollar bill and a toothbrush. Uncle Sam would provide everything else Hunter would need for the next four years. When the clock read 4:50, Hunter stealthily crawled from his bed. Walking to the kitchen, Hunter could see, from the light of the hood above the stove that Donald was once again on the couch. Hunter wasn't a hundred percent sure, but he suspected that Donna might be pregnant again, and most likely was blaming Donald for her pregnancy.

"You just keep on loving her, loser," Hunter muttered as he put the single sheet of paper onto the kitchen table.

"Dear Chantilly, Swan, Snake Bite and T. Rex:" Hunter had written at the top of the paper.

His simple note told his siblings that he loved them. Hunter wrote that he expected great things from them, he expected them to do good in school and expected them to love one another, to care for one another and watch out for one another.

Hunter wrote that college was not in the future for him; his grades had been mediocre at best, barely passing most of his classes. So, in an attempt to give himself a future, he had joined the U.S. Marines. By the time they read this note, he would be on the bus heading to boot camp.

Hunter wondered if Donald or Donna would ever notice, he'd not addressed one word of the note to them.

"Doubt it," Hunter said as he quietly closed the trailer door.

1. Stovetop Alfredo is one or two boxes of generic macaroni & cheese, prepared according to the instructions on the box, with six to eight generic hot dogs cooked in the water and taken out just before dumping the noodles into the boiling water. After the noodles are drained, the hot dogs are cut up into the noodles right before you add the imitation cheese packets.

The END

**Author's Notes. I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment. I thank you sincerely for reading my stories. I especially thank those that take the time to leave comments, good and bad. I also thank those that take the time to rate my words, those that 'Favorite' my work.

Oddly enough, there are no characters from previous stories present in this offering. However, the location of Lowen Bag Factory was introduced in 'Failing To Hold On' in the loving wives category. Stovetop Alfredo was introduced in 'Vanity' in the Loving Wives category. Gratchley's Beer is introduced in "Am I?" in the Lesbian Sex category, and the origins of Gratchley's Brewery, Inc. are detailed in 'Swill' in the Anal category.

Have a swell day. And some of you, have a swollen day.