The Legend of Joel Riggins part 2: Donnie Savia
by Daniel Beadle - Tuesday, August 21, 2007
The front door of the Riggins household creaks open. Joel saunters in, with his clothes shredded and stained by the mud and grass from his escape at the Buckley house.
“Joel? Is that you?” asks his mother from the kitchen. Joel stops and walks toward her.
Joel passes the family room, where his father reads the Milford Daily News. Mr. Riggins has an extremely high hairline and an enormous chin. His words ooze with dry sarcasm. “Looking sharp, Joel.”
Joel nods as he continues to the kitchen. His mother sits at the kitchen table, cutting out coupons from the paper without looking up. “Did you and your friends watch the game last night?”
“Yeah.” Joel runs his fingers through his hair as he walks over to the kitchen sink for a glass of water.
“Joel!” screams his mother. “What happened to you?!”
Joel looks down at himself. He’s wearing a pair of sneakers without socks, boxers without pants, and a ripped T-shirt, covered in blood, mud, grass, and scratch marks. “It was a pretty rough slide into second.”
Donnie Savia winces as at the morning sunshine that creeps through his bedroom blinds. He sits up, rubbing the throbbing vein at the left side of his temple, while retracing his previous night unsuccessfully. He walks in a trance over to his dresser, where he produces a small bottle of morphine pills. Donnie tosses a few of the pills into his left hand and slams them into his mouth with a sense of urgency.
Donnie’s cell phone, also on the dresser, begins to vibrate. He flips it open. “Riggins.”
A half hour later, Donnie’s black Toyota Camry is idling in front of the Riggins household. Donnie is wearing his black sunglasses and no emotion. Joel opens the passenger door, and takes his seat while throwing a “What’s up, buddy,” at Donnie.
The boys make their way through the streets of Milford toward Interstate 495. “So where’d you wind up last night?”
Joel strokes his face. “Ah, ya know… the usual. Banging fat chicks.”
“I’m telling you, Riggins, you gotta get out of that.”
“Ah… at least it’s good for my abs.”
“Why’s that?”
“’Cause when I’m lying in bed with a fat chick, I’m trying not to roll into that huge dip they make in the mattress.”
Donnie gets onto the Interstate, and lays on the gas.
“Jesus!” Joel braces himself in the car as Donnie pushes the car to speeds in the triple digits. Donnie, who’s not wearing his seatbelt, begins to laugh hysterically.
“You fucking pussy.”
Donnie swerves across two lanes and slams the car to a halt in the breakdown lane. “Fine. You drive.”
“Joel? Is that you?” asks his mother from the kitchen. Joel stops and walks toward her.
Joel passes the family room, where his father reads the Milford Daily News. Mr. Riggins has an extremely high hairline and an enormous chin. His words ooze with dry sarcasm. “Looking sharp, Joel.”
Joel nods as he continues to the kitchen. His mother sits at the kitchen table, cutting out coupons from the paper without looking up. “Did you and your friends watch the game last night?”
“Yeah.” Joel runs his fingers through his hair as he walks over to the kitchen sink for a glass of water.
“Joel!” screams his mother. “What happened to you?!”
Joel looks down at himself. He’s wearing a pair of sneakers without socks, boxers without pants, and a ripped T-shirt, covered in blood, mud, grass, and scratch marks. “It was a pretty rough slide into second.”
* * *
Donnie Savia winces as at the morning sunshine that creeps through his bedroom blinds. He sits up, rubbing the throbbing vein at the left side of his temple, while retracing his previous night unsuccessfully. He walks in a trance over to his dresser, where he produces a small bottle of morphine pills. Donnie tosses a few of the pills into his left hand and slams them into his mouth with a sense of urgency.Donnie’s cell phone, also on the dresser, begins to vibrate. He flips it open. “Riggins.”
A half hour later, Donnie’s black Toyota Camry is idling in front of the Riggins household. Donnie is wearing his black sunglasses and no emotion. Joel opens the passenger door, and takes his seat while throwing a “What’s up, buddy,” at Donnie.
The boys make their way through the streets of Milford toward Interstate 495. “So where’d you wind up last night?”
Joel strokes his face. “Ah, ya know… the usual. Banging fat chicks.”
“I’m telling you, Riggins, you gotta get out of that.”
“Ah… at least it’s good for my abs.”
“Why’s that?”
“’Cause when I’m lying in bed with a fat chick, I’m trying not to roll into that huge dip they make in the mattress.”
Donnie gets onto the Interstate, and lays on the gas.
“Jesus!” Joel braces himself in the car as Donnie pushes the car to speeds in the triple digits. Donnie, who’s not wearing his seatbelt, begins to laugh hysterically.
“You fucking pussy.”
Donnie swerves across two lanes and slams the car to a halt in the breakdown lane. “Fine. You drive.”
NEXT: BEAT HER ABOUT THE BROW
