Damon’s Blessed Misadventures

Clark Goldem awoke from his semi restful sleep, mentally preparing himself for another draining day. He had been accepted into college with a full ride scholarship, for his athletic achievements throughout his academic life, having been playing Football decently for over half his life. He was set for his college career, or so he thought.

One day, during a particularly vicious game against their longtime rivals, his left leg was horribly broken during a heaping dogpile.

With his leg in a cast, his daily motions were difficult, and of course, aside from being sidelined for the foreseeable future, it was possible he’d be cut from the team entirely.

Clark hobbled his way to the fridge he had within his dorm, grabbing the last beer from the door. He cracked it open and chugged half of it, pausing to release a heavy belch, before finishing it off.

A heavy sigh was released, after putting on an otherwise empty bookbag, he began his miserable journey to the store near the college. With his crutches, he tottered his way through the halls, and, as opposed to how he would’ve been greeted before, he was completely alone. A long shuffling eventually ended with him at the front doors.

He continued his despondent shambling all the way to the 7-Eleven two blocks away. He made his way in, shuffling from aisle to aisle, grabbing a large quantity of snacks he’d surely finish within the day, then making his way towards the liquor cabinet. He grabbed a pair of six packs, enough or the next few days, at least. He then made his way to the register.

After paying for the ‘groceries’, as he would tell his parents, he stuffed them within his bag, then returned it to his back. Saying a quick goodbye to the clerk, his first real social interaction he’d had for days, Clark began his return journey.

As he was tottering his way back towards his dorm, a clumsily held beer in his hand being drunk slowing his hobble even further, he heard a scream, and a gruff tone which was demanding something.

Clark, being innately good, as well as having a slight hero complex, was filled with adrenaline, dropping his crutches, though still holding the beer, spilling it all, he nearly sprinted his way towards the screams, cast around his leg be damned.

He made it to the source and the offender looked at him, seeing Clark with his cast, he guffawed simply stating, “What are you gonna do, ya cripple?”

Clark stepped forward, the delinquent followed suit, a knife within his hand.

Reacting to the knife, Clark reared back his arm and hurled the empty bottle directly into the attacker’s eye socket. He immediately collapsed, dropping the knife to clutch at his face. Clark wasted no time limping towards him, using his good leg to kick the shriveling attacker a few good times, one in the gut and two more in the face. He was releasing the months of aggression he’d shove down, as he jumped into punching the begging scoundrel into submission. A good few minutes later, a siren was whirring its way towards them.

Clark prepared himself for the trouble that was coming, even with him being an active attacker, he might've gone a bit far.

A cop was on the scene, as they apprehended the deviant, and after interviewing the victim, Clark was released, as the man he had stopped was a serial mugger, he wouldn’t be questioned further.

Clark was strutting with pride, though it was staggered, as his adrenaline was wearing off and he was beginning to feel the pains of his actions.

He was resting against a building, a writhing pain was coursing through his body. As he was bathing in his pain, a sudden rattling was heard above him, as he lurched to gaze at the source.

His sight was met by the gaze of an orange cat crawling around on the fire escape above him. Clark calmed down, as he went back to licking his wounds, he went to grab another beer, of course, after making sure the cop had left. But before he could make the motion, something suddenly occurred.