Maurice and Me

By Aaron Abilene

My twist on the David vs Goliath story. A man wants to kill a giant .

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aaron Abilene
• Release date: Apr 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223344681

Book preview

Meet Maurice

I swear on my life that I'm going to end up killing this motherfucker.  He thinks he's something special because he's so damn big.  when I first met him he wouldn't even speak.  It was almost like he didn't even see me when I first met him.

He stared right through me like I wasn't even there. It was a little bit creepy, almost intimidating the way he would look at me. It was like he was looking at someone behind me, but he was looking straight through me. I don't know how to explain the way he would look.

I thought it was a cop, or maybe like an undercover federal agent, or something when we first met. The only reason I ever met him to begin with was because he stole my ex-girlfriend. I don't know if you've ever met anyone that makes you feel like shit the second you meet them, but that's how it was when I met Garrett.

The day I met him he was with my ex-girlfriend. He stared a hole straight through me. He wasn't even looking at me, but I was looking at him. He was over 2 ft taller than me, and at least a hundred pounds heavier than I was.

He was better looking than me in every possible way. He wasn't looking at me because he was looking at the girl that was in the driver seat of the car I was riding in. I felt like shit because we were in a small town, and out of nowhere this Outsider showed up.

He was bigger than every other man in town. He was better looking than every other man in town. He was stronger than every other man in town.  Let's face it he was a scary son of a bitch, but all he had to do was look at any woman in town, and her panties would be around her ankles.

That's why I hate that motherfucker because I was the shortest man in town. When I was with my ex girlfriend a lot of times people thought I was her son because I was over a foot shorter than she was. I was bald because I had bad genetics.

that motherfucker had a full head of hair. it's not just that he had a full head of hair, he had this thick luxurious hair like a movie star. He didn't just steal my ex-girlfriend. Later on I found out that the woman I was seeing also wanted him.

Because one day when I made her mad she told me that I would never be the man that he was. What could I really do? That motherfucker was over 3 ft taller than me, and outweighed me by well over a hundred pounds.

I was never stupid enough to try to step to him because let's face it, what the fuck was I really going to do to someone as big as him? He would embarrass me in front of the entire town if I ever was that stupid. he was a type of person that if I would have stepped to him, he would have bent me over, and butt-fucked right in front of everybody.

––––––––

Maurice, a diminutive man standing at just 5'4", paced back and forth in his cramped one-bedroom apartment. Every step he took was punctuated by the creak of the floorboards beneath him, mirroring the tension that seemed to radiate from his very being. His face twisted into a pernicious scowl as he muttered something under his breath. With bushy eyebrows furrowed above his crooked nose, and thin lips drawn into a tight line, it was clear that Maurice was not someone you'd want to cross paths with. His temper was quick to flare, and empathy was a foreign concept to him.

His home, if it could even be called that, was nothing more than a squalid dwelling on the third floor of a dilapidated building in a small town. The walls were adorned with peeling paint, like aged skin slowly sloughing off to reveal the rotting structure underneath. The carpet below his feet was stained with memories of countless spilled drinks and meals hastily consumed, while the flickering fluorescent light overhead cast eerie shadows that danced across the room. This was where Maurice spent most of his time, stewing in his own anger and resentment.

Damn James, he growled, clenching his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. I'll make him pay.

Maurice's thoughts were constantly plagued by the desire for revenge, fueled by his mental issues and drug addiction. It was a dangerous combination, one that had already driven away those who dared to get close to him.

––––––––

Maurice rolled out of his lumpy mattress, groaning as the sun filtered through the cracked windows. He rubbed at his bloodshot eyes, cursing the day ahead. Sleeping had become less of a rest and more of a chore for him, with restless thoughts and gnawing hunger keeping him awake most nights.

Another goddamn day, he muttered, stumbling towards the bathroom. He stared into the mirror, surveying the damage that years of drug abuse had done to his once-youthful face. With a snarl, he turned away and reached for a half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey on the bathroom counter, taking a swig to chase away the bitter taste of his life.

He shuffled into the small, cluttered kitchenette and scavenged for something edible in his near-empty fridge. The smell of stale pizza greeted him, and he tore off a piece, forcing it down despite its rubbery texture. Maurice's days were spent in a haze of unemployment, substance abuse, and wasted time. Once an aspiring musician, he now found solace in mind-numbing TV shows and violent video games that allowed him to escape reality.

Maurice's thoughts returned to James, the giant who'd stolen Lisa from him. Anger bubbled within him as he gnashed his teeth together, the controller clutched tightly in his hands. Lisa, the one person who had once been able to see beyond his many flaws, had left him for another man – and not just any man, but the modern-day Goliath that was James.

Damn you, James, he spat, fingers flying across the buttons on the controller, releasing pent-up aggression on digital foes. You'll pay for this. I swear.

The mention of Lisa brought back memories of their strained relationship. She had tried so hard to help him overcome his demons, but eventually, it became too much for her to bear. The last straw had been an argument that escalated into violence, leaving her with a bruised cheek and a shattered heart. Maurice knew he was to blame for their breakup, but his twisted mind refused to accept responsibility. Instead, it painted James as the villain, fueling his desire for vengeance.

Shouldn't have taken her from me, he growled, pausing the game and lighting a cigarette. His apartment filled with the acrid smoke, matching the bitterness in his heart.

Hey, Maurice! a voice called through the thin walls. It was Lisa's voice, soft and hesitant. Can we talk?

About what? he snapped back, cigarette dangling from his lips.

Please, just... hear me out, she pleaded, her voice barely audible from behind the door.

Maurice hesitated, his hands shaking with both anger and fear. He knew deep down that talking to Lisa would only cause more pain, but he couldn't resist the chance to confront her – and perhaps stir up some guilt in her for leaving him.

Fine, he finally replied, flicking the cigarette onto the stained carpet. Make it quick.

In that moment, Maurice swore to himself that he would make James pay for stealing Lisa away from him. His days of wasting away in front of the TV were over; now, all his energy and focus would be channeled into plotting his revenge. And as he prepared to open the door to face his past, he couldn't help but imagine the look on James' face when he finally got what was coming to him.

––––––––

Maurice's life was a cocktail of chaos, fueled by an unstable mind and the drugs he used to cope. His bipolar disorder left him constantly teetering on the edge, swinging from depressive lows to manic highs. To numb the pain and keep his racing thoughts at bay, Maurice relied on a steady stream of pills and powders – anything he could get his hands on, really. It wasn't unusual for him to mix uppers and downers in a desperate attempt to achieve some semblance of balance.

Hey, shithead! Maurice yelled through the paper-thin walls, pounding his fist against them. He'd heard one of his neighbors snicker while passing by his door, and it was enough to set him off. You think you're so fucking funny? I'll show you funny if you don't shut your goddamn mouth!

Jesus, Maurice, the neighbor muttered, retreating down the hallway. No need to be such a prick about it.

Damn right, there's no need, but you made me do it anyway! Maurice spat back, slamming the door shut. He leaned against it, chest heaving with anger. His temper had always been volatile, but the drugs only served to amplify it. The smallest slight could send him spiraling into a rage, burning bridges with those around him, and in the end, isolating him even more.

Fuck 'em all, he muttered to himself as he stalked through the apartment, searching for the remnants of his latest purchase. Maurice found a small baggie tucked behind a stack of dirty dishes, filled with a few precious crystals of methamphetamine. As he worked to crush them up and form lines on the table, his mind raced with thoughts of revenge against James. If it weren't for that bastard, he'd still have Lisa by his side.

Hey, Maurice? came a tentative voice from the hallway. It was Mrs. Thompson, the elderly woman who lived down the hall.

Whaddya want? he snarled, glaring at the door.

Could you... could you keep it down a bit? I-I'm trying to sleep, she stammered.

Sleep? Sleep is for the weak! Maurice shouted, his eyes wild and bloodshot from days of drug-fueled wakefulness. Now get the fuck outta my face!

Alright, alright, Mrs. Thompson muttered, shuffling away with her head down.

Damn leeches, Maurice