“Careful, boy. There’s a snake down there.”
Gavin peered over the edge of the dock. “That ain’t a snake, Pa.”
“You callin’ me stupid? Think I don’t know no snake when I see one?”
Gavin shook his head. “No, sir.”
“If it ain’t no snake what is it, Mr. Smarty-pants?”
Gavin shrugged. “Piece of a car–exhaust, maybe?”
“I’m so dumb I don’t know a snake from a piece of scrap metal? That it?”
Gavin looked down. “No, sir.”
His father’s palm connected with his cheek–hard enough to split his lip.
Gavin didn’t dare look up. He knew better.
Written for Friday Fictioneers.
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