Bad Influences

B.

Teenagers.

Mark and I sat together on the floor of my bedroom with notebooks and english dictionaries laid in front of us with a small lamp snagged from the barn lighting the small room as the sky was black and still. Mark was laid on his stomach while I sat on my bum with a blanket huddled around me. The clock on my nightstand read 23:07. It was a routine of ours, before going to sleep Mark would give me another English lesson, and I’d help him with his German. I was much better at my English now than he was at his German. I thought it was funny.

“V….” Though there were some things I still struggled with.

“No, no, wuh not vuh, Remember?” Mark stopped me.

“Those damn double-u’s!” I huffed. “Hell, I already got down the accent but I still can’t pronounce that letter.” Mark snickered at me. “Th was easy. But AGH!”

“Burt, you’re not trying,” He teased.

“I am too!” I pouted.

“Okay, okay, here,” He sat up. “Put your lips like your gonna whistle.” I did as instructed. My ears were pinned back. “So start saying ‘oooo’ and then move that to the front of your mouth sorta like if you were humming with your mouth open.”

“I look dumb” I stopped and said.

“No speaking just double-u,” Mark scolded playfully before scooting closer and he squished my face. “Oooooo…” he prompted. I lowered my brow. “OOO” He was giggling through all his… ooing. “If you can’t pronounce double-u you won’t be allowed to say wanker.”

“Nothings stopping me,” I said with my face smushed. “Vanker.”

“Doesn’t have the same affect,” Mark told me, tilting his head. “Less whining more wew” I huffed.

“Oooooovvv“ Then came the V again.

“Wrong!” He sand squished my face more. “Don’t let your lips touch your teeth.” I rolled my eyes and tried again. That time I got it! “Okay okay, keep it!” He said and let go of my face. “Now say ‘what’”

“Wwwwwhat.”

“Huzzah! you got your double-u” Mark said, putting his hands in the air. I snickered at his stupid antics.

“Oooowwwwanker” I said with a smirk.

“See, now you sound less like a sad scrawny german farm boy trying to sound tough,” He teased with this big cheeky grin on his face, barring his misgrown canines.

“Alright blubber boy,” I teased back, scrunching up my nose.

“Hey alright little guy, hush up, at least I’ve got muscles on me,” He scoffed and gave me a shove. Truth was, he definitely did and I was definitely jealous that over the last two years I’d known him he’d actually gone from a little pudge-ball to a “cuddly hunk” (as he called himself.) and I was still a twig.

“...Wanker.”

“Right don’t make that your thing now,” Mark warned me jokingly.

“It inspires me to work on my double-u’s.” Mark rolled his eye at me and shook his head.

We got into our usual fit of mocking banter. Picking out all of our mild flaws that we were both self aware of and could take a bit of teasing for. My inconvenient abundance of body hair to Mark’s struggle growing any sort of facial hair, or my messed up ear to his big nose. Though we’d never tease one another about the aspects of what we knew the other was genuinely insecure about. Those sort of things that you think about a bit too much when looking at yourself in the mirror that makes the blood rush to your face and makes you wanna crawl out of your own skin. The sort of things your grandma would point out that you act totally unbothered by but you’re definitely going to lay in bed and think about all night. Yeah we don’t do that.

Just as I was getting ready to make what would have definitely been a really good comeback to Mark’s comment about disproportionately long legs, the doorknob turned. I didn’t care much. On the other hand Mark plopped his arms in front of him to cover up all the English books and dragged himself forward on the floor in an attempt to hide it. He was now just laying awkwardly on the ground with his head uncomfortable close to my crotch looking like the undead just crawling out of their grave. Realising this situation looked far worse than Mark teaching me some English I scooted back on my bum. My dad opened the door just as I was scooting away and his expression tightened to disappointed confusion.

“What are you doing?” My father asked.

“Hi Mr. Foxford,” Mark said with an innocent smile.

“Mark was helping me with English,” I answered.

“I WAS NOT,” Mark squeaked in fear.

“Sounds educational,” My father remarked.

“Yeah, I’ve learned a lot.”

“I wasn’t teaching him English,” Mark sputtered, his voice going up by an octave due to his nervousness.

“I couldn’t care less about Burton learning English, Marquis. You’re fine,” My father dismissed. Mark’s whole body untensed with a long sigh and he placed his head on the ground.

“Thank the Lord,” Mark mumbled in English.

“You two aren’t off the hook.” We both looked at my father, with his arms crossed with grey hairs peeking out from his flat cap. “I was doing my usual carriage rounds in town today with the mares… now tell me why the police came to talk to me about you two,” my father ordered with furrowed brows. All the weariness Mark was feeling about being caught teaching me English quickly flipped onto me. My father raised an eyebrow. I looked at Mark. He was the mastermind, I was just his right hand man.

“Mr. Krüger denied an older woman a room at his Inn and we overheard him at the pub talking shit about the lady saying horrid things about the poor lady all because she was an Italian immigrant,” Mark started, his voice no longer having that squeaky panic and rather a solid confidence. My father titled his head, beckoning him to continue the story. “Rather than starting a bar fight, since there’s no way in hell I’m going to let Mr. Krüger talk piss poor about another person, Burt and I decided to go to his Inn and steal all the keys for the rooms and take pillows off the reception couches. No worries, they went to a good cause.” I looked back at my father. He put his index and thumb on the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Mark I appreciate your honesty but good lord boy can you refrain from doing a Robin Hood stunt like that for at least a month,” My father grumbled putting his head against the door frame. “I swear I’m stressed enough having to deal with bums trying to mooch off lower ride prices, I don’t need to pass men on the street and constantly hear ‘hey, hear what Foxford’s boys’ did now?’ It’s ruining business.” My father groaned and took off his flatcap to show his brown and white receding hair.

“Duty calls, Mr.Foxford,” Mark said along with a confident nod as his grey ear stood tall whilst he was still sprawled out over notebooks in English on the hardwood.

“Could duty not call for a few weeks? You boys are killing me. Your mother’s already complaining about less people wanting to buy from the farm,” My father asked with that defeated look of pleading on his face where you could tell he was anticipating a long back and forth argument that would end in more disappointment. “I don’t give a damn what you two do out there, as long as you aren’t getting trouble and quit getting caught.”

“We haven’t gotten caught Mr. Foxford.”

“Not after you and Walt streaked down Aldonadorf! Police don’t want to catch you, boy!” He squacked at Mark.

We had saved the local newspaper about that incident… I couldn’t help but snort when my dad brought up that incident again. I still remember the look on Mark’s face in the newspaper photo where he was assnaked but the photo cut before anyone could see any dickiness. Walt, Mark’s younger adoptive brother got away. I stood back and watched their idiocy. Good memory. I saw Mark hold back a grin.

“It did its job,” Mark shrugged.

“Mark, let's make a deal. You and Burt take a break from wreaking havoc and I’ll pay you extra and try and get the annex done before October. Deal?” My father bargained, his hands shoving into his pockets. Mark squinted and thought. I could see the gears slowly turning in his head.

“Deal.”

“Thank the lord,” My father groaned in relief and tilted his head back. “Burt keep that kid in check, you hear me? He listens better to you than he does me!”

“Yes sir,” I nodded.

“Good. Now you boys get to bed. It’s late, I don’t want to have to wake you for chores tomorrow.”

“Yes sir,” I repeated.”

“Will do,” Mark replied to him.

“Good night you two,” My father said with a sigh before shutting the door behind him. The door clicked. Mark and I looked at each other as Mark lifted himself up on his arms. Once he was sat down I snorted, failing to hold back a laugh. The two of us started laughing our asses off like that was the single funniest thing our two dumbasses had gone through. It was nowhere near as funny as our uncontrollable cackling made it out to be. That was just how our brains went to the gutter past 22:00. Absolute nonsense.