Page 50 of The Trailer Park Twink

Oh, sure, Johnny swore he was sorry for hurting Bubba until he was blue in the face, begging and pleading for them to still be best friends.

Sobbing, apparently, demanding a platonic cuddle right then and there because he missed Bubba so much.

All while Ezra had to stand there and watch.

And now they’re all moving to fucking Minnesota with us.

There’s nothing sweet about this situation, because this is supposed to be a golden era for Daddy and me.

Our love story’s only just been written, and now it’s already overtaken by a pack of mother-frackers .

“You’re a lot cuter than Johnny,” I whisper, rubbing his shoulder in an attempt to ease some of his hurt.

Johnny and Bubba might have history, but Ezzy and Bubba have a whole future ahead of them, all they have to do is take it.

With the way they stare at each other like teenagers overcome with puppy love, the heart wants what it wants, and it’s clear as day they want each other.

“You’re nicer and kinder, and you’ve got a much cuter butt.

Meanwhile, he’s walking around with a potbelly, and he’s got the hairline so high, it looks like he has a fivehead.

” I fling my hands in the air dramatically.

“Let’s face it, Ez. The man is a total loser. ”

“The man is sitting right here,” Johnny, the trash bag, growls from the seat beside me. Loser. “And don’t worry, Ezra. The feeling’s fuckin’ mutual. Asshole.”

“Whatever,” Ezra says, turning to stare out the window.

“Where the hell did you come from?” I ask, feigning ignorance, because I’m sick of his face. Sick of him moving in without asking, even if Bubba kind of asked on his behalf.

Johnny blinks at me. “I’ve been riding with you since Texas. I’ve been here the whole fuckin’ time, bro. We literally shared a bag of popcorn an hour ago.”

“That was you?” A ridiculous question, considering I’ve been shooting him dirty looks in the rearview mirror for the whole ride.

I just figure if I pretend he doesn’t exist, it might come true.

“I must’ve mistaken you for a stowaway skunk.

Lord knows you’ve got the personality and godawful scent of one. ”

“Dude, why are you being so hostile? I ain’t got a problem with you.”

“Well, we’ve got one now. No one stands in the way of my best friend’s HEA.

If you try to, I’ll claw your heart out with my bare hands.

” I chew my cheek as he raises an eyebrow like he’s asking me if this is really the path I wish to travel, and the look he’s giving me tells me that I, in fact, do not want to take this journey, because he could break me in two with the might of his thumb.

I’m just a little guy and I don’t want to end up in the emergency room with a broken face, so I look down and sigh. “Sorry.”

The truck comes to a stop and Daddy turns to give us a stern glare.

“Now, I’ve had enough of this. We’re all in this together, and I ain’t about to let our new home descend into hateful glances and catty catchphrases meant to cut each other down.

This ends now. I want all of you to apologize, or I’ll drop you off here and you can walk the rest of the way. ”

Ezra leans the side of his face against the window and sighs. “Sorry.”

I open my mouth to object, but the look Daddy gives makes me pause.

I’m pretty sure if I talk back, I’ll end up over his knee with a blistered ass, and as fun as that sounds, I can’t bring myself to talk back.

Poor Daddy had to listen to Ezra and I bicker for days on end, trapped in his oversized pickup truck, so I know we have to be getting on his nerves, and I don’t like when he’s nervous.

It doesn’t suit him. The way his mouth curls down in a sexy frown.

How his eyes squint smaller as he groans out his annoyance.

I don’t want to be his bad boy, because I’m bad all the time, and he deserves better.

“I’m sorry. Really, Daddy.”

He gives me a stoic nod, but there’s a hint of pride swirling in his big brown eyes. “Good boy. Alright, your turn, Johnny.”

Johnny blinks at him. “I’m literally just sitting here. I didn’t sign up for this shit.”

He’s right. He didn’t sign up to bicker and complain like me and Ezzy.

When given the chance of riding with us or with the other two members of the Core Four, he surprised us all by agreeing to ride with us.

Ezra insists he’s doing it so he can listen to any master plans he has to seduce Bubba, but he swears up and down he doesn’t want a romantic entanglement with anyone right now. Lies, lies, lies.

“Apologize, young man,” Daddy warns, but it just earns him a glare.

“Don’t try to pull that age play shit with me. You all might be into it, but I’m not. I ain’t nobody’s good boy.”

“And you never will be with that attitude,” Ezra mumbles.

“Sorry, what was that comment?” Johnny snaps .

“Enough! That’s e–fuckin’–nough. I ain’t letting y’all tear each other to shreds on the first day of the rest of me and Aussie’s life together.

I’m already opening my new home to everyone, just so the Core Four doesn’t have to break up, you’d think I could at least get five minutes of uninterrupted peace without you three biting each other’s heads off.

Just fuckin’ apologize and move on already. ”

Johnny reluctantly looks over at Ezra. “I’m sorry.

I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to be sorry for, but I’m sorry.

” He doesn’t sound sorry in the slightest, but then, neither did we when it was our turn.

It must be good enough for Daddy, because he turns his attention back to the country road and continues driving.

We ride in silence for the next ten minutes until Daddy pulls up to Pathfinders Lake.

When I see the job the boys have done, my heart slams in my chest. It probably breaks every rule instilled by the HOA, but my God... it is glorious.

After our performance at Pretty Boy Prison, we returned home to find Mom already gone, having abandoned the trailer house with a note stating she was running away to join a commune.

Apparently, the group calls themself The Temple of the Rising Snowfall.

Stupidest fucking cult name ever. Via Google, I learned there are sixty-three members, and they all worship a giant rock of crystal meth that’s bigger than a human head.

Together, they do tweakerly things like search the carpet for stray shards of meth they can superglue to the table holding up the methball like the world’s worst mosaic.

They rewire electrical outlets that don’t need to be rewired—often shocking themselves in the process.

Yes, they do many things, but one thing they don’t do is ingest methamphetamine.

If the cult member testimonials are any indication, it’s a recovery program of sorts.

They worship meth so they won’t do meth.

What-the-fuck-ever.

Mom’s on her own journey once again, and whether that leads to sobriety or a Jim-Jones-style exit from this world is in the hands of fate.

Regardless of reasoning, when she left, she left the trailer house to us, claiming she didn’t need earthly possessions, and she only wanted someone she referred to as “Daddy Dom.” I’m assuming she’s talking about Dominic Dominguez, the man in charge of their silly little temple.

I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s a doomsday cult, and I’m one-hundred percent sure I don’t really care.

The first thing we noticed when we arrived was a large time bomb strapped to the front door.

She may have thought it was a time bomb, but she must’ve been high as fuck when she did it, because the bomb in question was simply an old toaster with a stopwatch glued in the center.

Still, Daddy was scared of removing it, so he called the police who, in turn, called in the bomb squad.

When they arrived, the officer-daddies stared at us like we were stupid, snatched the toaster off the door, and tossed it into the trailer park’s dumpster, threatening us with legal action if we ever bother them again.

In return, I told them to get a real job. They didn’t seem to care for that.

The festivities didn’t end there, because an hour later, Bubba got a call from the other guy who works at their shop—Queerbait, apparently—who broke the bad news.

Bubba wept as he was told Mom burned the machine shop to the ground on her way out of town, pausing long enough to open a tube of Morton salt and spread it in a circle around the building as it burned.

Thankfully, Daddy and Bubba came up with a plan.

Whether it’s a good plan or a bad plan is yet to be seen, but they seem optimistic about the prospect of using the insurance money to build anew, starting from scratch.

Clint said he didn’t have anything better to do, so he asked to tag along.

“I want you all to behave yourselves,” Daddy warns. “I swear to God, if we get out of this truck and you boys start swingin’ on each other, I’ll be busting some asses.”

Ezzy gasps as he looks out the window, and his knees are shaking so hard, they’re knocking against mine, which... ouch.

“Bubba,” he whispers, his eyes widening with something that looks a lot like hope in his eyes .

Daddy turns off the engine and hops out, walking around the truck and opening the back door, helping Ezra to the ground.

The moment his feet touch down, he rushes toward the cabin as Johnny shouts, “Oh, no you don’t!

” Johnny tries to open the door on his side, but it’s child locked.

He jerks the handle frantically before turning and lunging our way like a rabid dog.

Seeming panicked, he climbs over me and past Daddy, falling out of the truck and landing on his knees.

“Son of a—” He stands and runs toward the house as fast as he can, shouting, “Bubba!” at the top of his lungs.