Get Off My Lawn: Old Man Franklin Short Stories written by Jimmy

 

Get Off My Lawn: Old Man Franklin Short Stories

 

Written by Jimmy

 

Friday

 

 

Ever since poker night with the fathers in the neighborhood Old Man Franklin has been in a bad mood.

Most people know to stay clear of his lawn, it’s the neighborly thing to do. But ever since the contest has come up everyone has been eyeing Old Man Franklin’s yard and how to not let him win.

Old Man Franklin is retired, he cuts his lawn every other day. Water it almost incessantly. Even during the droughts. He orders some kind of special seeds from overseas and watches his lawn like a father would his newborn child. Franklin loves his grass, and no one…no one would mess it if he values their most vulnerable assets.

Recently Old Man Franklin got an upgrade to his watering hose. It’s lightweight, with an adjustable nozzle, and most importantly it can spray water faster in more powerful bursts.

He can’t wait to try it out on some poor schmuck that crosses his path.

He’s reading last week paper again on his favorite wicker chair on the porch. It’s late, and he has his torchlight facing to the current page he’s on when he hears the slapping of sneakers on the pavement. The individual is about a half-a-block away, and coming closer.

Old Man Franklin puts his paper and torchlight down. Grabbing his trusty and faithful wooden cane, Franklin walks down the cobblestone path that leads through his property and waits for the runner to see him. He steps into the path so that the guy has to stop.

Blaring music from his air pods infuses the night air with unnecessary nonsense.  

“What?”

Sam Hell, aka the Devilboy glares down, huffing at the Old Man before him. He recognizes now even in the dim lightening from the nearby streetlights. Old Man Franklin is wearing a hat, cast lower over his beady eyes as he looks intently back at Sam. He does not seem intimated by the fire brewing with or the powerful half-dressed body. Sam is shirtless, sweat dripping down his flanks, his nipple hair stuck to his skin like the ones that decorate his navel. His shorts are low on his hips, and his underwear is full on display drenched and clinging. Sam’s impressive bulge outlines his shorts and he fully stops now to fire down his intense demonic gaze.

“Well, old man. You clearly had something to say. Spit it out.”

Old Man Franklin picks at a tooth with a wooden thin toothpick eyeing Sam Hell. He takes is time as he formulates his words and he continues to look Sam Hell deep into his red eyes.

Finally after a full minute he speaks.

“The other night, you boasted about your unique…genitals boy and how they are invincible.”

Taken slightly aback, Sam Hell takes a careful step backwards and reaches down to cup his sweaty, full nutsack. He plans on emptying these bad boys tonight all over Bill.

“And what of it?” Sam Hell growls, “What’s it got to do with you?”

“I just think it’s funny is all,” Old Man Franklin says, as he continues to pick at his teeth before he stops and places it behind one ear to use later. Twirling his cane he lifts it up and presses the business end right in the center of the bulge where the two plums rest at the bottom. “You didn’t seem invincible last time at poker night. It’s funny I would have thought after you moved in with Will Brady that you would have learned his secrets…and really mastered the art of being invincible. Shame I guess. You almost are.”

Sam Hell is speechless, and Old Man Franklin pulls his cane away. Sam’s nuts sway in his shorts and Sam Hell breathes get quicker “I…have asked. He has not shared.”

Old Man Franklin smiles now “I bet.”

He turns towards his house to leave, Sam grabs the old man’s shoulder.

“Do you know his secrets?” Sam Hell could not help himself. He had to ask, has to know about his foster fathers secrets so that he too can learn from the Ballbusting master. The desire to truly be invincible like his claim is so close, he can feel it.

“Hands off.”

WHACK!

The can thrust is brutal, accurate and deadly.

Sam gulps a lungfall of June night air grabs himself where the cane tip is lodged deep into his right nut, which has spilled around the jarring end like what would happen if you mashed cookie dough with a mullet.

“UUuuuuuukkkk!” Sam gags as Old Man Franklin pulls his cane away, his fingers dropping from Franklin’s shoulder.

Old Man Franklin seems to stand taller now as Sam Hell drops to one knee, heaving a cough that wracks his body as his right nut sings with heat and nauseating, bile inducing pain.

“I’ll tell you the story, I was there. But you need to do one thing for me first Sam. You need to hit him. Bust Will Brady’s balls just once, and report back to me with proof and I will help you.”

“You….fucker,” Sam Hell says, spraying the ground with his spite as he coughs once again, his red eyes are crossed as he stares at the ground.

Franklin chuckles as he heads back to his porch but he says over his shoulder, “And turn that hoodlum music down! Good people are trying to sleep around here.”

Old Man Franklin claps when he gets to his porch.

Sam Hell is still on all fours as the water from the ground turns on spraying him, and drenching him from head to toe before he can back up as the sprinklers hit him full blast.

He’s in the street, his red eyes lightening up the night as the old man laughs and heads back inside.

Mission accomplished.

~End

 

 

Saturday

 

The next day, Old Man Franklin is in a much better mood.

He is certain that his plans will work out, that Sam Hell will follow through and Will Brady will finally find himself on the floor. He can’t wait to put that little whipper snapper in his place.

He’s ready to get his paper.

Jayden Gomez, the newest paper boy is usually out at first light and Old Man Franklin knows that its tip day, he has tip the little uppity brat. He is not looking forward to it, so he hopes to catch Jayden in a mistake. He’s been so good all month that Franklin is not sure if he can find fault with his work. He has a nice fiver on hand if Jayden manages to not make a mistake, but like usual Old Man Franklin has a plan.

The sun is rising over the clouds bathing the neighborhood in an orange glaze and when Jayden’s head crests his sights Franklin sees his bare shoulders, and strong arms gripping the handles of his bike as he comes into view. Jayden is tossing papers, shooting them like rockets from his satchel, an old leather sack that once belonged to his mother. Each paper flies and lands perfectly on his neighbor’s doorsteps, many of them greet him with a smile and a friendly wave as they generously tip him for his good sense of time, and care for his work.

When Jayden starts to approach Old Man Franklin’s house a branch, drops directly in front of the path. Jayden’s tires screech and he almost runs into Franklin’s perfectly shaped grass that he had cut the day earlier when he swings into the street. But from the look on Jayden’s face he landed heavily in his saddle and his soft dark eyes soften as he moans coming down Franklin’s path. He pops off his bike, kickstand already touching the cement as he grabs himself wincing.

“You alright boy?” Old Man Franklin asks, not hiding a slight chuckle as he spots Jayden’s nuts being rolled in his palm.

“Yup” gasps Jayden taking out a paper, and limping over to him. He hands it to Franklin, and Franklin knows that he got him good with that trick.

“Don’t need to put on the tough act with me, boy. Want some ice?”

Jayden Gomez waves the idea off.

“It’s not…too bad.”

He moans, slightly bending over not able to not grab his bulge again.

“Nonsense, come inside and I’ll get you a bag…along with your tip.”

The screen door closes shut, and Jayden not quite sure of himself follows Franklin inside. He closes the door softly, and the lights are off all over the house. It takes a moment for Jayden’s eyes to adjust, and he pulls back his shorts to look at his rearranged nuts that he managed to cruch and land on. “My boynuts,” Jayden moans gently prodding the bare bulge but quickly pulls his hand out, but his elastic bang snaps at his right nut that he pulled up, and he winces again tears coming to his eyes.

“Ouch…that one did not feel good,” Franklin almost giggles with glee as he places the ice against Jayden’s crotch telling him. “You should put that egg backside, you don’t want to scramble them anymore!”

Jayden agrees, and gently pulls back the strap so the nut can drop back down.

“Ohhh man.”

“Sit.”

Old Man Franklin points at a leather chair, next to the window.

Jayden does heavily cradling his bruising nutsack and looking pale.

“This is for you, you did…a sufficient job.”

“Thank you Mr. Franklin,” Jayden manages to croak out, before he closes his eyes and hisses between his teeth.

Sitting across from him, Old Man Franklin is about to speak again, but he sees the Ice Cream Truck rolling down the street and waits until the noisy truck passes before he continues.

“You are doing better than the last schmuck paper boy we had, you even seem to have improved.”

Jayden looks up into Franklin’s face and breathes out “Had to, you keep hitting me with your water cannon.”

This comment makes Franklin smile “It’s a hose actually.”

“Could have fooled me” Jayden says grimacing. “You are very accurate with it.”

“I was a marine, an excellent marksman. I always hit my targets.”

“Yeah” Jayden chuckles now “You always hit mine.”

The two share a laugh, before Jayden shifts and winces grabbing his bulge and repositioning the ice bag.

Loud noises bring Old Man Franklin to his feet and he’s out the door with surprising speed, water hose in hand.

The twins, Max and Rex are arguing over an ice cream cone. It’s covered in rainbow sprinkles and Max is holding it high, and Rex reaches for it both are stepping on his grass and the ice cream wobbles on the cone about to fall.

“Not on my watch.”

Two quick blasts of the hose one knocks the icecream back and into Rex’s face covering his head in cream, sprinkles with the cone flung right into his mouth. The second blast hits Max right in the goods. The powerful stream knocks his nuts all the way back into his ass cheeks as he spins and tumbles into his brother. Max lands heavily on top of Rex on the street but not before he knees Rex in the spuds.

Rex and Max holler together landing in a heap, both legs spread wide open.

“Like taking candy from a baby” Old Man Franklin comments as he turns up the hose to full cannon. He lets it rip between the twins legs right into their bulge which swish and flop as the full powered spray sends the twins nuggets into a tailspin around and around smacking into each other’s balls. They scream again holding each other before rolling to their sides away from where the water can pelt them.

“Stay off my lawn!”

The door slams and Old Man Franklin mutters “Those idiots,” before he plops down opposite of Jayden, whose mouth hangs open.

“Holy shit, sir! You…annihilated them.”

Jayden’s mouth hangs open, and color grazes Franklin’s cheeks.

“They gave me no other choice,” Franklin mutters, more to himself than to Jayden.

Jayden fully disagrees but says nothing, instead he focuses in on Franklin eyeing him fully for perhaps the first time. Thoughtfully he says, “You play poker against my Dad sometimes, right?”

“Yeah, and he’s an idiot. Always loses his shirt.”

Jayden smirks, but then feels like he betrays his father in doing so. “He’s just trying to do his best.”

“I am sure that he is.”

“I…should be going.”

Jayden Gomez stands up, taking the ice bag off and is surprised to find that he is half-hard. Watching the twins get hit like that, and so thoroughly owned made him a bit…excited.

Old Man Franklin chuckles.

“You sure you’re down with the ice?”

Jayden laughs, fully embarrassed as he gets up.

“Yeah, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Not much anyways” Old Man Franklin chuckles, but then he is past Jayden Gomez and shooting the water hose again.

Leo is on the curb doing a one handed handstand on his skateboard, wearing long jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt despite the heat. The shirt is fully around his neck showing off his chest and abs but Old Man Franklin is not looking at his skinny muscles, or his tight torso it’s his curb that he’s on, and he is far too close to his lawn.

Water blasts into Leo’s crotch, slattering his nuts against his crotch and sending Leo tipping onto the ground.

Max and Rex are drenched across the street wringing out their t-shirts, their skin glistening in the bright sunshine. They laugh at Leo as he screams “My balls! Awwww not again!”

Jayden Gomez laughs next to Franklin, and says “You got some kind of wicked humor.”

“Yup, I sure do. I never do miss my targets.”

Jayden grabs his own bulge as Franklin keeps shooting from his hose, tiny water droplets hit them both but Jayden is smiling now saying “Don’t I know it.”

The two share another chuckle as Leo shrieks covering his balls in one hand, his skateboard in another as he limps away.

 

~End

 

 

Sunday

 

The weekend is almost over, and Old Man Franklin breathes a sigh of relief.

His lawn is about to be crowned Bartlet Lawn of the Year, for the tenth year in a row. Franklin is ecstatic about the upcoming win and the prize money, part of which will pay back the five dollars the he was forced to give that damn perfect paper boy. Maybe next month he can catch Jayden in a mistake. Damn that Gomez boy.

Old Man Franklin watches the snooty old judges placing ribbons on nearby lawns, his house is the last and they still have not placed that blue ribbon. It’s clearly an already forgone conclusion.

“Congratulations again, Franklin. You have outdone yourself.”

Franklin nods, accepting the check and not allowing them to put the blue ribbon onto his grass, he does not want the holes from the stakes. He leans hangs it instead and to Franklin it looks just right.

“Maybe someday someone will finally dethrone you,” one of the judges says with a laugh.

“Not bloody likely” he replies shaking their hands.

It’s not a long affair before he is sitting back in his favorite chair, content and smug. He will deposit the winning $1,000 check tomorrow.

A few hours later Franklin comes back outside to enjoy the night crisp air as he spots a familiar hooligan heading down his path. A decidedly heavy limp to his gate.

One of Old Man Franklin’s eyebrows goes up and he stands to look at the disheveled Devilboy as he limps up the stairs and stands before him, an ever present scowl plastered onto his face.

“Went that well?” Old Man Franklin says, a hint of a smile on his lips.

Sam Hell sways a moment, taking his time to answer. Finally after he chews it over he tells him “I did what you suggested and…I couldn’t even get one hit in.”

He hangs his head, Sam’s fiery eyes downcast and contemplative.

Old Man Franklin pops in the toothpick he saved from yesterday and sucks at the wooden tip, thinking of a way to change the outcome for Sam the next time. He is about to make a suggestion but Sam is eyeing him again with that gaze, his laser eyes boring into his own.

“But he did have a reply for you, he said ‘If you want to ball tag me so bad, do it yourself.’”

A flash of movement from below, and a heavy THUD booms into the crest between Old Man Franklin’s thighs. Franklin’s nuts are slammed against his own body and he grips his cane extra hard, his bony white fingers hold on for dear life.

“Nnnng” he grunts, mouth open as the tiny toothpick falls from his mouth and lands between them on the front porch.

Sam Hell looks satisfied as he yanks his leg back.

“Sometimes the old are not wiser, don’t ever give me advice again old man.”

The Devilboy turns and leaves, but not before giving his body a full shake out “Ugh, old man testicles were on my foot. Gross.”

Franklin stumbles backwards, dropping his cane and tumbling into his chair grasping onto his bulge. His throbbing testicles, thump faster than his wildly beating heart.

“You…little…nnnng!”

Sam Hell is almost to the edge of his property, and even with his awkward walk he is making good time. Old Man Franklin has one shot at this. He grabs the silver nozzle to his hose, his beady eyes tracking his foe as he turns toward his house, his profile at the perfect angle where his bulge is just visible and he steps with his left leg opening up his groin fully.

That’s when he shoots.

“Take that you little hoodlum.”

A blast of water shoots straight across the yard like an arrow, and Sam Hell turns towards the noise eyes wide knowing what is about to befall him but not able to change the outcome. Water blasts into his bulge, his devil coins stopped by his extended thigh bounce and buck around his nut bag in an attempt to flee. There is just nowhere to go.

“Ugggh!” Sam Hell shouts, and falls back onto the sidewalk grabs his bulge.

Old Man Franklin does not let up but hits him full in the face, and then ass as he retreats making sure to nail just below the crack at the back of his left nut. Sam Hell’s whole body trembles and goes taut as he drops to his knees clutching at his assaulted nut.

The hose turns off and, Old Man Franklin cups one ear as he tilts his good left ear to hear the wail of anguish. A self-satisfied smile crosses his lips and he stays put on his porch content to watch Sam Hell suffer on the street for a few minutes before he is able to shuffle away.

His phone lights up in his pocket, and he looks down at it frowning.

Will Brady: “Sam is going to be late for dinner, and wet I assume.”

Old Man Franklin: “Yes, yes he is.”

Will Brady: ….

Will Brady: “You got my message?”

Old Man Franklin: “Loud and clear.”

Will Brady: “See you at poker night.”

Old Man Franklin turns off his phone, in annoyance.

Will Brady bested him this evening…yet again.

He looks up at the starry night, nightfall has descended on Bartlet and as he rolls his wrinkly nuts in around Old Man Franklin thinks about that time Will Brady was on his knees, and how he can’t wait to see him like that again.

 

 

~End