Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

Lawson Has His Fun	By : TimedWatcher Category: +M through R > Recess Views: 33000 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Recess, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
"Yes! Eat it LaSalle!" Lawson cheered when he scored the final point in a one on one that had gone to sudden death rules.
Wiping his forehead, Vince had a look of disbelief that Lawson was eating up with a little itty bitty spoon. "I don't get it. How the heck did Lawson beat me?" He asked to no one, unsure of himself.
Lawson loved this. "I beat you by just bein' plain better LaSalle!" He loved it more than the time he beat him at P-I-G or the time he beat him at four square, although that time was when they were really young kids. It'd been awhile since he tasted victory, but it was always sweet.
"I'm just having a bad week. You know I'd normally whomp you anytime." Vince pointed accusingly, brushing off this little loss. "I don't know what you're doing Lawson, but this lucky streak isn't gonna last."
"Youw wuckee stweak isn't gonna wast!" Lawson loved throwin' that speech back in his face as he mocked him with an off tone. "Yeah that's a lot of talk LaSalle. I want to see results and less of those flappin' gums uh yers. How about tomorrow, same time and place?"
"You're on." Vince responded, absolutely incited with utter contempt. Both their eyes squinted with firey competition, a lone dodgeball blowing between them.
Beep beep.
Lawson pulled up his digital watch. Speaking of same time and same place... "I gotta be somewhere ya lame-o." He tossed the ball directly at the court. It bounced with a fierceness that was easily tamed when Vince caught it.
Lawson stomped out toward the school again, making sure he wasn't being followed by LaSalle, he blew straight into the side entrance of the school while holding the middle of his cap. As the doors flopped shut, he waited a bit, staring through the glass peer ins before finally moving to his usual destination.
This off the path bathroom had become his sanctuary to his degenerate behavior, where the two girls could pay the toll at the altar of Lawson. He stood proudly for a moment, before something caught his ear, and he forced open the door slightly.
It was quiet at first, now growing louder into wet snaps of lip smacking.
Oh those girls...
He crept in like a mouse, making sure every step counted as this would be a rare treat to be sure.
Peering across the side, he saw Spinelli pressing into Gretchen, her hand discriminiately placed on the taller girls chest. Spinelli didn't want to do it because she always thought of it as just "gay stuff". Which is funny, even after eating out Gretchen's butt, it still wasn't her scene. She only did it because of one person. "Dang, ya know you two kissin' like that really gets me goin'." Lawson made his presence clear, his hand on his hardness. Gretchen on the other hand, was clearly more into it, pretending to be curious to at least try it when he first suggested the two go at it, maybe more so because she secretly got off on Spinelli's butt lickin'. The two broke their smoochin' with shock, but not surprise. "Maybe ya like it a little too much, Spinelle." He said with a knowing smirk.
Gretchen adjusted her misaligned glasses. "Believe me Lawson it's purely explorative."
Spinelli agreed. "Yeah, it's just a some fun between us girls."
Lawson brushed above his eyebrow, eyes closed as he stepped forward. "Oh I know that, I just want you to prove it." Splitting the two apart, he wrapped his arms around them as he trained his lurid eyes on them, expecting his bidding to be done.
They willingly submitted to his whims - their hands clutching in the middle together around his clothed rod, a mild rub down ensuing that was just the beginning as Spinelli took her place between his legs, as he yanked Gretchen by the back of her head, pulling her into a kiss of his own. He could taste the harshness of Spinelli on those lips. That family o' hers really liked spicy food. It made her harder to kiss but boy did it give her BJs a little kick. Speakin' of which, Spinelli was rarin' to go, not even undoing his slacks as she wrapped her mouth on the hard point of his pants. He was surprised he could faintly feel her mouth through the material, but that's just how good she must have gotten throughout their little liaisons. Lawson and Spinelli quickly exchanged glances, her dark brown eyes focused on him, her lashes fluttering all girly like.
There was nothin' else like it.
Except when she actually had her mouth around that sucker.
Undoing his belt loops and zipping down his pants, he felt himself exposed as she pulled down his jeans and popped him out through his boxers. Spinelli wasn't at all bashful about taking him in as he did see her wince for a moment. Maybe it was the sweat, but she soon began her descent down his shaft towards him.
He wanted to shoot right there.
"Gretch, give her a hand." Lawson pressed down on her neckline, the nerdy girl allowing herself to be oriented by the fifth grader. As Spinelli came up for air, Gretchen took her turn by flicking her pink tongue underneath his head, before swallowing it up. Spinelli, being the good friend she was, took hold of her pigtails and made sure they didn't get tangled up in her spit as she slid back and forth up his dick, looking all silly with them big ol' teeth, but somehow, they just made Gretchen hotter.
Spinelli pressed onto Gretchen's lower back, and without saying a word, they compromised on opposite ends of his shlong. "Mmmm-" "Mmmoi-mwah" Spinelli kissed it with closed lips that blossomed out to let her tongue stab at his meat, while Gretchen looked like she was gonna take a bite, but her lips just grazed it from side to side, her tongue hitting the corners of her mouth rapidly on the underside of his shaft. Bursts of air from her nose fogged up her glasses. A nasty slobbering noise escaping both girls. "sluh-slslslsl." As they kissed their soft lips against the side of his dick, Gretchen and Spinelli unconsciously stared at eachother over the bit of shared sausage. Their eyes shifted naturally, as if making unsaid overtures to one another.
Spinelli always had a bit of a mean look neutrally, but Gretchen wondered if she should take it as such?
Was Gretchen making googoo eyes at her? Or did her eyes just seem bigger with her prescription?
They split off from his penis, their fingers intertwining together over his rod, the slender pale ones of Gretchen's and the stubby tanned yet strong ones of Spinelli's. With them both working together, the jerking was firmer and stronger. Lawson mouthed his pleasure at the tight fisted stroking. The redheaded girl couldn't contain herself, and she lunged at Spinelli. Gretchen had a burning face, moving with a sideways verve against the face of Spinelli who resisted her advances in the moment, her focus still clearly on him, her eyes open, staring up to Lawson as if expecting critique on her performance.
He approved.
He sputtered out, firing a volley towards them. Their messy kiss became even messier, as both girls stuck their tongues out as if on command, creating a pink bridge between them, as if inviting in his boner to sit upon it's new throne. Landing on the wet and squishy muscles, he popped off another big load that nearly hit their clothes, retracting back in time to nail them in their open mouths. Eschewing their hold on him, Lawson gave each girl their fair share, painting both their faces with quick spurts. His white stuff cascaded down their faces like syrup. Gretchen got paler as he covered her freckles, her glasses smudged; while Spinelli swallowed up every droplet she could, pushing creamy frost into her mouth with her index finger, suckling her digit like it were whipped cream instead of his salty seed. With a squeeze of his reddened tip, he fed the last of it to an excited Spinelli, who inch wormed past Gretchen on her knees, as if it was a competition. "Ooooooh, girlies, ya spoil me."
He remembered a time when seeing the two girlies from TJ's crew practically wrestling in sticky goo would have been a mighty fine prank.
But now? Add the element of his wang being out and the two girls swappin' spit and his stuff? It made him rethink his life choices up until then, and why he hadn't been doing this way earlier.
"Uhm... Lawson?" Gretchen oddly had a look of disappointment, thinking maybe he was done.
He wasn't. "Aaaaah... I guess you two earned a little somethin' somethin'."
Laying his hat in a crumple, he rested the soft of his neck and head onto it, cinching himself a moment, ready for what was to come. Gretchen reminded him of a baby giraffe as she stepped over aimed her feet, trying not to step on him, those clumsy shoes of hers taking place at the sides of his face. He motioned for her to lower in a squat. Which was a tall order indeed for someone of her stature. She angled her gangly legs, lifting her dress as she lowered down, making sure to go slow so she didn't accidentally sit on him. Her outer lips were so pale they were almost a grey and translucent, but Lawson nearly started drooling once he saw those bright pink lips open up as she dropped further and further before finally glazing Lawson's lips with a tangy kiss; Lawson not the least bit surprised she was already drenched considering the way those two were goin' at it.
His neck stretched as he got nose deep into her narrow pelvis. Lawson suctioned onto the lips of her angelic and pristinely smooth twat, pulling in her skin to a point where audible pops were heard. Gretchen made faces that ranged from lip biting, eye rolling expressions of pleasure, to downright goofy wide eyed and open mouthed guffaws. Her hands wrenched her baby blue dress in clutches against her bony knees, as it started to feel more and more impossible to keep herself from falling over as he slathered up her genitals like some kind of pig -- not that she was complaining.
Spinelli meanwhile was lowering down onto his groin with a swiftness, both hands pulling her ass apart, her dime sized pucker opened to it's limit. Lifting his dick, Spinelli's butt kissed the tip. She ground down on him, wiggling her body back and forth, and once she felt him get snug enough against her, she put her full weight down on him, her ring splitting open. "Ow ow ow... wooooh..." Her lips fished out into hushed O's. Inch by inch, Lawson disappeared into her.
Sliding down his pole, she landed in his lap in a way that knocked some air out of him. "H'oof. Hey Spinelle - is that butt o' yers gettin' plumper?"
Over her shoulder, she looked at him with a huff, trying her best to act like his dick wasn't up her ass at that moment. "Sheesh Lawson, do you want me to go on a diet?"
His voice quartered from it's usual brashness. "No, no... I kinda like it. That's all." With Lawson unable to see her expression, her slutty expression made itself clear. Her teeth gnashed. Her spine arched. Her head threw back. Spinelli sucked in her lower lip, looking up to the bathroom ceiling with relief as she bounced up and down on him, the full feeling still painful, but one she couldn't deny herself, a tingling sensation that spiked as he invaded her tunnel.
"Ya likin' the view, Grundler?" He groped the tanned cheeks of Spinelli, wobbling them up and down, as if taunting Gretchen, showing how deep his prick was planted inside the stretched out hole of Spinelli. Gretchen's initial reaction was a 'yes', but she stifled it back, gritting her teeth. She did wonder if she was developing a pavlovian response seeing nude parts of Spinelli while he ate away at her. Gretchen tried to sway herself in an attempt to not see the image before her, but she felt locked in.
Gretchen shuddered. Her weakening legs butterflied in and out. The backs of her heels bore into Lawson's hairline. "Lawson!" Gretchen exclaimed, her face a blushing pink. She collapsed forward, propping herself up as best she could by his chest, shaking like a leaf.
Despite the blinding vision of her slick inner folds, Lawson kept pumping Spinelli's asshole. *WHAP WHAP WHAP* Lawson unleashed with a final jab into the air, filling her cavity to the brim. Spinelli fell down with a ripple of her flesh, clenching down hard on his member. Her lips kissed out, her forehead sweltering under her hat from the boil she felt inside, a flash of pain hitting her as his tip and veins expanded for a second, an angry expression aimed at no one.
Lawson lay motionless, stirring inside her every once and awhile.
Spinelli eventually rose up off him, his weiner falling limp from between her buns, her hand clapping over her hairless pussy. Sitting between his thighs, her starfish gaped for air, a bead of cum dribbling to the tiled floor.
=========================
Spinelli and Gretchen laid side by side bent over the sink together, the red skirt of Spinelli's folded up her back while Gretchen's baby blue dress was practically a ruffled blanket draped over the counter.
Their conversations spilled in and out between his ears, both from a lack of interest on Lawson's part, but also because of the skin to skin contact as he took turns reeming them. Right now he had his middle and ring fingers wedged up Gretchen's juicy snatch, splaying out as much as he could of her taut yet soft butt.
"Did you hear -- oomph unf -- about King Bob's new cookie tax?" Spinelli then softly asked for Lawson to slow it down, but he ignored the request.
"This is why I could never got into politics -- haaaahnnn..." Gretchen winced and pushed back, which had Lawson tease the girl by removing a couple of inches from her, which made Gretchen's pale cheeks wiggle even harder. "I'm too young to vote but I'm already born into a monarchy that I have no say iIiiIiN-" Like an ice cube was slipped into her dress, her voice wavered. Lawson interjected by now humping himself into Gretchen, his right hand on her sharp hip while his left was fumbling against Spinelli's ever moistening slit.
Spinelli rattled her fingers in a thumping that repeated, looking a bit bored with a slight curled up lip. His fingers were fine but nothing was better than his...
Spinelli had to mentally check herself. Why was she even thinking like that?
He switched partners again. Lawson's rhythm picked back up faster than before while inside Spinelli, finally reaching his apex. "Here it comes Spinelle, here it comes!" He shunted her forward with his final ram, with Gretchen reaching over in an attempt to brace her from hitting the mirror at full force. "Oh yeah..." Lawson nuzzled his chin into her beanie, rocking back and forth. Spinelli didn't seem to mind him laying on her or even finishing in her pussy.
Though with his own eyes closed, he didn't notice the look of pure dumb joy that was on Spinelli's mug.
The bell rung, which brought him back to reality. With a final kneading of the high-waisted pancake butt of Gretchen's, and the rounder and more jiggly set Spinelli had, Lawson gave them a toothy smile. "Lunchtime ladies."
After his string of successes with Spinelli and Gretchen, you'd think he'd be on top of the world.
Well he was.
Lawson felt untouchable. Even the normally unbeatable winner guy that was Vince LaSalle couldn't compete with him on the court these days. There were a few moments in his life where he felt like Vince was just plain better than he was - but now? Those moments o' weakness made him want to laugh now.
Outside the court, not even the prankster prince himself that was Dumbweiler was able to get his shots in. Mainly due to two little birds in his ears. That was even better. When him and his pals try to lay it on thick, Spinster and Gretch ain't backin' him up. Lawson didn't even have to say a word to win when he had those two fighting his battles.
And to think. Ol' Spinelli had a soft spot for TJ
The times. They are a changin'...
It was a sundae Monday today, and if he had a weakness besides them girls, it was that.
Cutting his way in line, he 'rassled hisself up a tray, waiting his turn - then outta nowhere, Randall cut in front of him, placing his elbow firmly on the aluminum serving station. Lawson leaned in as well, but only Randall had a smile going from ear to ear in his usual devious fashion.
"Whadyawant Weems?" Lawson asked in a tone that could be considered threatening, but vague enough for it to be considered nothing. If Lawson ever second guessed who he was as a person, he just had to remember Randall. He knew better to associate with his kind, 'cause it was like playing with dog doo: you just get dirty.
"What in the world is a fifth grader like yourself doin' hanging around with a bunch of lowly fourth graders."
Lawson froze, before shaking his head as he grabbed a plate and threw on some bread for the chili being served. "I'm waitin' in line, doofus. Of course I'm surrounded by fourth graders."
"Walk with me... talk with me..." Lawson slammed his tray down and stared white hot hate in that hunchback of his.
Sitting across from Randall reminded him why he hated sitting across from Randall. Looking at him head-on was like being face to face with some kinda gargoyle thing -- except he knew one of those statues wouldn't try to rat him out.
Randall passed over two polaroids, their black sides facing up.
Lawson felt like he knew before he knew.
The first one was of Spinelli on her knees in front of him, his shirt untucked.
The second was Gretchen on her back, her eyes shut, her flat chest exposed while he tweaked on it.
He flipped them back over as quickly as they had been placed, like a texas hold'em player that knew he was gonna fold early.
Picking them both up, he moved to rip the pair in a single motion.
"Like it? I got more." He hated to describe Randall's voice as sinister, but it was. It had him on edge. Like 'leap over the table and rearrange his face to a point where he can't tell the tale' on edge.
Lawson gave them back. "So are you gonna tell someone about this?" He got all choked up, a lump in his throat, his accent slipping.
Randall held up a hand of feint offense. "Oh, perish the thought." Lawson wanted to roll his eyes at that but didn't let up appearances, wanting to hear what exactly he had in mind.
"So what do you want?" Lawson asked plainly.
"Oh you know me Lawson..." His index and thumb formed a pinch grip, which he then tapped against the bridge of his nose. "I just want to wet my beak a little."
Funny, that sundae of his had a bitter aftertaste.
============================
"You want me to what with that fish bait!?" Spinelli was understandably steamed. Lawson couldn't give her his usual Lawsonisms, 'cause he was in full agreement. This was nothin' but pure grade A bullspit.
Lawson leaned back against the sink, shrugging. "I don't want you to, but Randall's got me in a jam."
She stepped up, getting up in my face... she hasn't done that since this whole thing started. "If you think for one second I'm gonna get anywhere near Randall in that way, then you're off your rocker." Spinelli turned to stomp off, but turned back and set her foot down, her fist clenched. "You think just because you ask me to that I'll actually do it!?"
He stared her down. "You think I'd want you to!? Even the thought of it gives me the scabies. Heck, normally before I wouldn't have cared if he did that to you, but now..." His head felt sweltering as he took off his hat, swiping the brim and his hand across his forehead. "Gretch, can't ya make up a robot or somethin' that would fool Randall?" Spinelli side-eyed him like he was the dumbest kid in Third Street. "I know dang it, I know. What am I supposed to do?"
"Ah, sorry Lawson, that kinda tech won't exist for awhile. Best I could do is rig up a puppet with several holes that not even Randall would be dumb enough to fall for."
Lawson wanted to hit something, but every surface around him was harder than his fist.
Randall was her greatest enemy. More than the Ashleys. More than himself... before the bathroom thing happened. The small weasel faced little monster was always out to ruin her day. He remembered that whole trial where he had accused Spinelli of throwing a rock at him -- and he honestly had him going into believing she was capable of doing it.
Gretchen adjusted her glasses. "We could always consult our parental figures."
"No way! My parents would kill me!" Lawson clawed at his face, the undersides of his eyes exposed for a second, before he let it snap back into place. "And considering what I did, they might actually do it!"
Spinelli also wagged her head. "Nuh-huh. Not a chance in heck, Gretch. You already know how embarrassing my parents are -- imagine them crying on TV about me!" Spinelli already had grand visions of people getting an all access pass to her life story as her parents bellyached all over studio chairs about how much they loved their little 'pooky-kins'.
Nobody had anything to say. Lawson turned to Spinelli, the both of them lacking any attitude or hate towards the other. "So... you're gonna go through with it?"
Spinelli's head drooped, but sounded stern in her resolve. "I guess so."
Lawson tried desperately, but he had a mental block on the part of himself that usually would have made fun of her in a moment like that.
============================
"Man!" Lawson threw down his hat in frustration to the black top near his feet.
Vince dabbed a finger on his tongue, before pressing it to the top of his wrist. "Tssssssss. You hear that? That is the returning hotness that is Vince LaSalle. I knew it was just an off day."
He was still in denial about it, as he bent down. "I'm just distracted s'all."
"With every point I make, the crowds would be chanting my name. 'Vincent. Vincent. Vincent'. It'd start slow, then just get louder and louder with every point I made on you, until that final lay up, and then the crowd would go ballistic! You'd be happy havin' them cheer 'Luck-ee, Luck-ee' the few times you scored."
Lawson cinched his hat down hard to his head, almost sending it through the top. "That's a right big ol' fantasy you got there, Vince. Word of the day is, fantasy. You ain't gonna do it again."
"Wanna bet?"
"Whaddya got in mind?"
"All the marbles."
"All the marbles?"
"All of them. All the steelies, clearies and swirlies ya got."
Lawson knew agreeing was stupid, but he had to wipe the grin off Vince's face all the same - but he just needed to clear his head of that blackmailing worm... but how?
============================
He slid in the lock.
Alone at last with Spinelli.
Randall could barely keep his excitement in check.
"Spinelli. Or should I say..." He pretended to think on it, thumb and finger to his chin. "Ashley... Spinelli..." Spinelli cringed more at him saying that than the idea of kissing him down there. Randall continued to touch around his lower lip, seeing her reaction made this moment beyond moist. "Sorry to dust off an old chestnut, but I just like knowing I can say or do whatever I want without repercussions..." He stalked up to her. Grabbing a strand of her hair, he twisted it out of her red scrunchie before misplacing it in front of her face.
Spinelli reflexively swatted his hand away. "Let's just get this over with." Spinelli was resigned to her face, especially in the face of... the face of 'malevolence' wasn't accurate enough a description for Spinelli -- mainly because it felt like a word Mikey might use. There was nothing poetic about this jackal. He looked about twice his age, with lines on his face from a skull that looked like it wanted to escape his head, and she couldn't blame it for trying. The smell of the dank bathroom did nothing to mask that fishy smell of his.
"Hey - whose in charge here?" Spinelli sank to her knees, signifying that he was. "Exactly. Now like I discussed before with Lawson, I want that thing you do with your mouth, and I want it before I have to file my report with Finster." Tugging up his shirt from inside his tight waistband, he slipped his thumbs into the sides of his grayish green pants and pulled them down, his underwear going with it. Spinelli's face instantly soured. She pixelated the open shot of his groin through her squished together eyelashes. The reality was, it was just an averaged sized penis for a boy his age -- but Spinelli treated it like it was charred, gnarled and full of pustules, almost unable to look at it.
It was Randall's... PENIS. Everything and anything connected to him was disgusting!
Randall was getting tired of her acting like she had never done this before. Just because he was Randall didn't mean he deserved to be treated like a second grader. He yanked her hair with the energy of a kindergartner, which brought her out of her funk. "Hey! Don't push it, Weemmmmph-!" Randall stuck it into her open mouth.
Randall nearly fell atop her. It felt like he was gonna melt. His knees shook. He couldn't even describe what it was like, it was wall to wall warmth and niceness.
The virginal Randall attacked her with his hips, unable to stop himself from bucking, going all the way in, his balls resting on her chin. Spinelli tried to retreat, but his grip on her handlebar braids prevented her from getting away. She urped in disgust, spitting up his dong, her nostrils flaring - that usual menace Spinelli could instill having no effect on the dweeb, not that he was paying attention, somehow cringing into EVEN uglier faces that Spinelli couldn't comprehend that Randall was even capable of. Spinelli firmly shut her eyes, then bobbed her head back and forth, trying to hurry it up, but it made things worse, because she was now mentally drawing what his cock looked like in her head. Even trying to lick it made her think she was trying to bite into a raw onion, her tentative tongue moving like his pecker had a forcefield around it, unable to fully commit.
"Whoa-hoh-oh! Spinelli stop! Stooooop!" Yet despite his protests, he pulled harder and harder on her hair. Spinelli winced. "Waaaah! AAAH!" Randall screamed out like he was dying, burying Spinelli fully into his crotch.
Spinelli experienced the biggest, hottest load in her whole life -- but the taste of it was beyond RANK. What did he eat? "Gulp-gulp-mmmlulp-shhhluuuurp." Her lashes blinked, as wet as could be without actually crying - though why didn't she? The worst person at the school -- no, in the WORLD, just came down her throat and she took it like a total pansy.
Randall shrunk faster than her mom's laundry. "Holy geeze, no wonder Lawson practically does it with you two everyday." He swiped the sweat off his brow. "I could get used to this... but now you got me curious to see if Gretchen is any better..."
After everything was said and done, Randall expected the usual over-the-top display of disgust his mere presence seemed to inspire in people. 'Oh Randall bad! Oh Randall stinks like liver and onions! Oh Randall I can't wait till I'm old enough to file a restraining order against you!' That last one being from Ashley A herself - yadda yadda yadda, he's heard it all before and it was like water off a duck at this point for him.
But...
Spinelli didn't do that.
Spinelli of all people!
"When do you want to see me again?" The question caught him off guard. Randall was half expecting Spinelli to try and walk out of here like this had never happened, or even rush to the sink to wash her mouth out with soap.
"Oh, uh, well-" Randall motioned to wave her off. "I'll uh, I'll let you know tomorrow, okay?" Randall moved out of the way for her to leave, and again, her face read neutral from what he could sideglance.
How? She should hate him - even moreso than usual.
Despite what he believed about himself, there may have been something likable about Randall afterall.
============================
Shaky legs, constantly fidgeting with the energy of a kindergartener, unable to decide whether or not he should be sitting or standing. He turned his cap backwards and forwards again and again, staring up at the clock like it were his new god -- but what was more disconcerting and kept Gretchen edgy rather than focusing on her projects was the fact Lawson wasn't talking. A rather unusal sight. His constant jabbering while she worked might have made for some good white noise, rather than the obnoxious squeaking and scraping he was making with his desk.
Lawson wrung the air like there was an invisible neck to choke. "Ach, it tears me up inside just thinking about what they could be doing!"
Gretchen scratched behind her ears as she squinted off to the side. "That's odd... I thought you didn't care about Spinelli."
Huh... Grundler had a point.
Why was he freakin' out? There had to be a good reason kickin' around his head...
"It's the principle!" He thumbed his chest. "Spinelli's mine! I broke her in!" There. It was all squared away and he had his reason. Randall never earned her like he had earned Spinelli.
Ah...
For a moment there, Gretchen thought there was something more to Erwin.
"You know how humiliating it is to be one-upped by Weems?"
That's it.
Gretchen threw down her pen.
Lawson knew he shoulda kept his big mouth shut.
She then stood up while leaning forward like she were about to pounce at him, her hands stabilizing herself on another desk. "Humiliating? HUMILIATING?" She squinted her eyes. "Do you know what I'M feeling right now knowing my friend is being molested by the human equivalent of a trilobite!?" Gretchen counted them off, going finger by finger. "Fear, anxiety, remorse, worry, nausea -- and that's just what I can put into words!" Gretchen then cast her hand to the wall, pointing in the general cardinal direction that their bathroom getaway was located. "I can't imagine what Spinelli is feeling right now having to face Randall all alone and without ANY of her friends to get her through it." Gretchen then thrust her finger out towards Lawson. "And it's your fault for getting us into this!" She then planted her hands on her hips and began wagging her baby blue dress back and forth. "So Mr. bigshot fifth grader, any ideas on getting us out of this mess? Huh!?"
Despite that nerdy slur around those big buck teeth of hers, he felt all of it. His posture fell, worse than before. It was like that unserious attitude that gave him his confidence was completely shattered - at least for the moment. He had seen Gretchen give an impassioned speech before after bottling up her problems for awhile, but Lawson never thought he'd be the recipient of one of them -- even after he had put it in her butt.
Lawson slumped into the backrest of his seat, armpits tucked over it. "Gretch, help..."
It was the most softspoken she had ever heard him, giving her those big and imploring eyes, the side of his lip curled up as he furrowed his face, looking defeated and like half the boy she had come to know the past week.
Gretchen fell back down with a big sigh and eyes shut, pressing her finger into the long wire of her glasses that ran across the side of her head, her mind racing for solutions.
============================
Huh? Who was knocking at his door? He just got home.
Randall wanted to slam it closed once he saw her. Actually, he had a few nightmares start this way. He 'eeped', but quickly recovered. "Spinelli... whuh-what are you doing here in my house?" There was something different about her -- like those wet-dreams he sometimes had about her.
She lowered her eyelids. "I want you, Randall." Her normally raspy voice had this silky quality to it. It caught him off guard and got his already greasy skin to sweat even more. "Now."
He gulped. The tendons in his arm flexed out, visible. "We can't do it here, my parents-" Randall panicked.
Spinelli pouted out her lips. "Aw, that's too bad Randall. We were gonna have so much fun..."
Randall wasn't going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. "I have a private place we can do it. My casa away from home - a place nobody will ever find us."
Spinelli was happy to hear that.
============================
"Are you crazy!?" Spinelli asked loudly, the rush of white water from beneath the grated floor spilling out from several ducts.
Randall pressed his hand to his chest. "Even I can manage it, Spinelli. Are you saying I'm better than you?"
Spinelli grumbled, looking to the grey cement wall that was like a sheer cliff, then back to the broken walkway that separated them. Both sides had twisted off, pointing down to where the missing chunk presumably fell. Spinelli imagined a giant trying to climb up the dam, and while he was halfway up, the section tore underneath his fingers and he took quite the tumble - a tumble she did everything she could to not mentally project herself onto.
At least the rest of it seemed sturdy, both on her side and where Randall currently was.
Still, it was crazy! One wrong move and you're fish food. A part of Spinelli couldn't believe that Randall had it in him. Heck, even finding this place by climbing over the fence on the bridge above must have taken him a bit of nosy legwork to find.
Despite the hand railing, it was easy to get vertigo, even with Spinelli's belief that being afraid of heights was for babies. It didn't help her when she looked down and things spun back at her. Spinelli twisted her fists on the bar, as she turned her attention from the drop to the big green and wild vista that had a winding stream zig zagging up it's middle. It was a view of the town that she hadn't seen in awhile that extended beyond what she considered the outskirts. From skinny green ashes to thick and brushy butternuts. It kinda felt like an enclosure as the view trailed off into some distant hills. There were some flattened paths, but it was mostly waist high grass and bushes. It was a little out of the way, but if they ever needed a new place for Fort Tender, the whole thing looked perfect for it.
She stepped back, each bang loud.
Her fists flexed in and out, as she wagged her arms back and forth.
Spinelli then sharply inhaled.
*CLANG*
*CLANG*
*CLANG*
"DO YOU WANT ME TO CATCH YOU!?"
"Randall!" Spinelli went apoplectic, stopping dead before the edge.
"Sorry!" He shouted over to her, his hand cupped over the side of his mouth.
After working out her anger through some made up swears under her breath, she finally got up the nerve again to do the sprint and jump, landing with more grace than the much more seasoned Randall. "Whew-" Spinelli flapped her jacket in and out. "That was almost fun."
Randall produced a small brass key with a smug expression, motioning like he was gonna pass it to her, before he took it and slipped it into the silver doorknob.
Spinelli gawped at Randall, oddly impressed. "How'd you even get that?"
"I did kind of a mold thing -- you know."
"No, I don't know." It kinda felt like she had been accused of something.
Randall didn't like the tone, but he let it slide for now. "Heheh -- don't sweat it, old Randall here knows plenty of things that he can teach you later, babe." He then flung it open, extending his arm in and letting Spinelli walk in before him.
Though the thrum of rapids could still be heard, it was far more muted now -- the walls as solid as a wartime bunker. The place had sickly painted beige walls that lead into an eggshell ceiling covered in dim tubes of caged lighting that looked like they had been there since before she was born -- it kind of reminded her of a hospital. A bright yellow railing interrupted the room, a safety protocol installed just for a small set of steps, which also didn't have any reason for being there except for a slight divot in the levelling. The only bit of furniture was a desk with a chair and an old timey computer. A mesh fence concealing seemingly more complicated devices and pipes behind it was bathed in a sterile blue light and darker paint, with distant whirrs and clicks signaling off and on, though it was nothing too loud.
Randall expected to screw her in a place like this?
"Welcome, Spinelli." He made a move to entice her, brushing her shoulder as he motioned for her to step in further. Spinelli squeaked the rubber of her boot off the epoxy speckled floors, almost getting a smile out of her after seeing the black skidmark as she followed Randall down, the both of them now standing closer to the desk and the fence. He turned, rubbing both his hands like he was hoping to start a fire. "We have all the time we could ever need..." He then stopped, pressing a finger to his worried face. "Uuuh... except I gotta be home before eight."
Spinelli pulled out a roll of duct tape from her jacket. "Wait, Randall, I wanna try something." With a saucy half grin, she tilted her head toward the chair. "Would you mind if I tied you up and-" She nudged her eyebrows up and down.
Spinelli seemed kinda freaky, but he liked that. He second guessed the idea, but quickly waved it off. It was hard for him to say no to those fluttering cat-eyes she made
*SCRIIIIP*
The silver roll of adhesive was now wrapped around his chest and bound his arms to both rests of the office chair. He was already tented when Spinelli was just holding his hand as she strapped him in, feeling like he was gonna go off early before Spinelli was finally sitting in his lap, doing tricks for daddy. "Alright Spinelli baby, how do you want to do this?" Randall tried to hump the air, which only jostled his seat and got him accidentally spinning. Spinelli caught him before he needed to ask her for help.
The front door barged open; Randall shut his legs and jumped in his seat at the uninvited guests.
It was Lawson and Gretchen standing side by side with a box underneath her arm.
Randall re-opened his legs. "You two? What are you doing here? I'm busy with Spinelli if you don't mind!" Randall tried to shrug off their presence, his focus entirely undivided on Spinelli.
"Spinelli is not and will never be your slave, Randall!" Gretchen geekily declared triumphantly.
"Yeah, this is gonna be a shorter reign of terror than your time as prince." Lawson buffed out his chest, feeling like some kinda super hero.
Randall's outlook hadn't changed, still feeling in charge. "How do you figure?"
Lawson held up four photos. Gretchen held up three.
Randall smiled. "That's it? You two -- no, all THREE of you are going to be in so much trouble!" Randall struggled, kicking and squirming. "Wah-hah-nnnnnn-onceI'mfreehrgh-"
Lawson and Gretchen nodded to one another. Gretchen upturned her shoebox, spilling out a sea of photos, finishing the display by tapping it's underside to make sure any hanger-ons would fall out too. From out of his pocket, Lawson windmilled out his stack by the wrist like ammo for a game of 52 card pick up. The barren room was now covered in illicit photos, scattered about recklessly like when the school collectively gave up on Ajimbo.
The curly haired boy was aghast. "Whuh-? But how?"
"Sorry Weems, ol' Gretchen here swept your room after you left with Spinelli. And don't worry, I cleaned out your desk while I was at it." But that wasn't all of them.
"We also found your hidden cache in the cheese box and New Rusty."
Oh...
Randall had to give it to them -- there was something freeing about accepting that he lost to smarter players of the game. "Alright, but how'd you know I'd leave my room just because of Spinelli?"
Gretchen cleared her throat. "Deductive reasoning, Randall. I figured you work for Miss Finster not just because she's an authority figure or that you like to tattle on us, your fellow students - though that's no doubt a part of it considering you're well..."
"Randall." Lawson finished her thought.
Gretchen continued. "-but it's because you don't like to be punished -- and who doles out even bigger punishments than ones own parents?" Gretchen spoke in an accusatory tone, relishing in the moment as she clasped her hands at her midsection. "Never in a million years would you risk your parents catching you alone with a girl or illicit contraband, so of course you'd have somewhere private to get away to."
"Yeah, and yer all sneaky like so why wouldn't it be a place where no one could hear ya scream?"
Randall leaned back. They might be smart players -- but he was the best. "You're still not gonna get away with it. I'll tell Finster, Finster will tell your parents -- even if you aren't caught, say goodbye to your lovenest because she's gonna start watching it like a hawk."
"We have a solution to that problem too." Then it stopped being all fun and games, their gaze on him full of judgement. Behind a steely-eyed squint, Gretchen grit her big buck teeth. "You crossed the line Randall: You hurt one of my friends, and not even I can perpetuate, nay, JUSTIFY your existence for any longer than necessary."
"So me and the girls all decided that you gotta go." Lawson spoke through a sneer.
"Permanently." Spinelli hadn't spoken for awhile, and her voice was cold and sent a chill up the reptilian-like boys spine. She looked at him cross for a second, then tore herself away, folding her arms.
The color drained from his expression. What did that mean? "Permanently? HUFF-" Lawson moved Randall like an orderly who had complete disregard for the patient currently strapped into the wheelchair. Passing by Spinelli, she reached for him one last time - his elation at the gesture quickly fading as she yoinked his key from his pocket, then resumed acting like he wasn't even a person. "No wait! I'll just forget this ever happened! I'll always get you the good ball at recess!" Randall craned his neck into the stiff yet soft pleather of the office chair, trying to get a look at Lawson. "I'll do your homework for a year! No wait, I'll blackmail the SMART kids into doing it!" His voice vibrated as he was pulled awkwardly up the small stairwell. Once atop it, Lawson gave him disregarding push. "Oof! Stop! Wait! Puuuuhuuuuuhlease let me go!" He began to wail.
"Shaddup!" Lawson scowled, but Randall kept up the waterworks and howling. Lawson's mouth clicked. "Tch. I'll be back, ladies." The explosive rush poured in as Lawson angled Randall through the door with a lift - then things got quiet again.
With Lawson out of the picture, Spinelli braced her knees, looking about ready to vomit. Gretchen rushed to her friend's side, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright Spinelli?"
Spinelli paused to breathe, but then shook her head that she wasn't. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to live with myself after what Randall did to me."
The rough surface of the walkway was Randall's only reprieve. The bumpy and skittish ride was slow, but it allowed Randall to come up with an idea, changing tact now that it was just the two of them. "Come on, Lawson, I didn't do anything to you personally. Let's just let bygones be bygones. There's a frosty tall drink at Kelso's with your name on iiiit..." Even in the face of certain death, Randall still could turn on his impish charms -- even sounding a little convincing.
"This ain't personal..." He always wanted to say somethin' like that -- but Lawson then thought about it. "Wait a sec, it is personal!" He got in Randall's line of sight, obscuring his future end of the road. "Spinelli's my property, so ipso facto, ya messed with ME, so you gots to go down for it."
"But-AH!" Randall was given another firm shove, the curly haired boy teetering over the side. Randall's teeth chattered, his fear coming out in warbling, a part of him still expecting the bandaid of this bad prank to be finally ripped off.
Lawson knew the only way he would be rid of Randall and to keep the secret would be to send him on a one way trip to Antarctica -- or do this. Both options weren't exactly viable, but of the two he could do, he chose the latter.
Lawson pushed.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUuuuuuuuu-" Randall's voice drifted off into the loud splashing torrents below.
Lawson gave an insulting salute. "So long Randall -- write me if you end up anywhere interestin'."
He stopped his showboating for a moment, standing there all by himself. He never liked to be alone with his thoughts -- but there were none in his head. The fifth grader inhaled the air; a weight lifted. The smell of the rushing water was lackin' that chlorine smell, but it was still so so sweet...
============================
The three were now crowded in the corner of Randall's former hideout. Lawson was against the chainlink. Spinelli sat on the empty side of the desk, trying her best not to bother Gretchen. Gretchen was bent over at the computer, the tall girl having to do it awkwardly without a chair -- but her being all bent over like that got him all... riled up. "You know I feel kinda bad for the guy." She swung her boots back and forth from inside the desk then outside again. "I think he really believed I LIKE-liked him."
"Ah forget 'em, he deserved it." Lawson blew off Spinelli early, even if she was being facetious. "I think even Weems himself knew deep down NOBODY could ever like him." Lawson then sprung off the loose feeling material. "Hey Gretch." He massaged her tense shoulders. "Whatdya say you, me and Spinelli break the place in?"
"Actually Lawson, I think I've found something quite interesting."
"Whatssat?" Gretchen clattered her fingers across the keys, and the solid black background of the CRT monitor covered by mint green text completely changed, like it had regained color and an entirely new interface.
"The oldest file here goes back to the start of the cold war." Gretchen was no longer blinking, but her irises moved a mile a minute. "Apparently our town was part of a project that was going to be rolled out all over the United States to spy on..." Gretchen lost her train of thought -- all this information too important to just parse through quickly.
"On who Gretch?" Spinelli asked with genuine curiosity.
"Everyone." She swallowed. "Oh no... remember the SAL 3000?"
Lawson cocked his eyebrow. "Who could forget that hunk of junk?"
"Well... imagine that, but worse..."
Spinelli seemed confused, throwing out her hands. "How can it be worse, Gretch?"
"It's a much older version. A prototype of the SAL -- but it had total control over the whole town." According to the press release with appended notes to it, they hadn't implemented the creepy voice module yet, but promised the feature in a future iteration. "The project was scrapped, as it was deemed too expensive to implement countrywide -- but also to remove, and they didn't want to rip up the fiber optics that covered every square inch of-" Gretchen was about to say the name of their town, when she gasped. "Egads! The government had access to microprocessors back then that wouldn't be available to the general public for decades! And just look at this!"
Gretchen typed in an address:
It was Spinelli's house.
Four panels popped up with options for more at the side, which consisted of toggles as simple as locking doors or turning on/off lights, to scarier things like triggering carbon monoxide floods.
Spinelli's face fell into her palm seeing her parents salsa dancing together.
Lawson just thought it was interesting seeing her place for the first time with the sun up. "You mean Weems was spyin' on everybody?"
That wasn't her point, but still. "I'm afraid so. This terminal isn't password protected so he would have been easily able to find this if he snooped long enough."
Grim realizations filled Gretchen's head while Spinelli had only just begun working the kinks out on what this all meant, but it suddenly hit Lawson like the brightest bulb above his head. "I think I got this whole thing all figerred out." He spread his arms like it were a presentation and his grade depended on showmanship. "Picture this: I can finally live out my ultimate fantasy-" Lawson then threw up his hands in proclamation, looking like a ref declaring the goal was good. "Screwing all the girls of Third Street!"
Neither Gretchen nor Spinelli were amused.
Gretchen had overestimated Lawson, thinking he might have understood why this was such a violation of their rights as American citizens.
Meanwhile, Spinelli wondered why Lawson even needed any more girls when he had them -- but moreso, just her.
============================
The playground looked empty, like it was meant to be that way.
Lawson sauntered up to the basketball court, and as he cocked his head to the side, a group of second and third graders began beelining out of there, hiding behind or ducking into things.
Vince was standing on one foot, back against the shady side of a partition -- the kind kids with no friends bounced balls off of, his arms crossed.
Lawson motioned to his holstered pouch of marbles.
Vince shot his arm up, bouncing his satchel up and down in his open palm.
"You ready?"
"Always, LaSalle."
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Lawson Has His Fun