Nobody would've ever thought that Bubba Hensley (Fat Slob) would've went insane that day. He was a quiet fellow, usually keeping to himself, He didn't have any hobbies that anyone was aware of nor did he ever go out to see the daylight. Whenever anybody saw him it was mostly in the late evening hours. He was about 5'7, and two hundred pounds and shaped like a bowling ball. He lived in a house with twelve cats, two dogs and his mother. His mother was eighty years old and most of the time required some assistance. Bubba was in his late fifties and had never had a job as far as anybody knew. He spent his days watching TV and staring at the yellow stained walls and cursing his mother for smoking.
He hated it when she smoked and often accused her of not caring about his health. And she usually told him to quit worrying himself over something so silly and to shrug it off and man up.
That was his father's way of handling things whenever Bubba came to him with some kind of personal matter.
Shrug if off and man up.
His father worked at an old Chrysler plant before they closed it down because they outsourced everything to Mexico and sent thousands of Hoosiers out of a job.
Things got worse pretty quick from there. The neighborhood starting deteriorating fast and crime was on the rise. People breaking into houses for food and extra cash for drugs.
Not long after that Bubba's father dropped dead from a heart attack. The doctors called it the widow maker and said he didn't stand a chance.
That happened when Bubba was only fourteen and heading into the hardest years for a teen to ever have to go through. His mothers advice wasn't cutting it.
Just have a cigarette.
And a drink. Helps take the edge off.
While you're at it change the cats water bowls and the litter boxes. They're smelling up the house and it's starting to kick my asthma. She said this as she took another puff of her Marlboro, puffing it down to the bud and lit up another.
She had him sweeping up the floors from the dogs pee and the litter box issues was constant. The cats would sit and look at him as if they were making fun and like he was the nobody and they were the kings.
Every day around nine I the evening he'd walk down to the Village pantry and get her cigs and a case of beer. She'd spend the rest of the night drinking, smoking and cursing the day was born.
She'd call him names like fat slob and good for nothing and told him how a man his age should be out earning a living for his wife and children. She said he was too ugly to get married and no girl in her right mind would look at him, calling him a fat slob.
Bubba took it the abuse, day and night he took every bit of it till she ran her self down and passed out. Then the next day it would start all over again. Thank God the mornings were slow times because she had to recover and once her headache subsided she was back at him again.
Bubba was so stressed out he seemed to only get relief from eating. Food had the way of soothing him. The only problem with that was that all the stress didn't help his metabolism.
His mother would scream at him so loud the neighbors could hear her. And they thought what a filthy mouth that old woman has and how it was such a shame she talks to her son that way. But, nobody could anything about it. The only person that could was Bubba.
And he did it on that night. Mother had gotten herself in one of her moods and was ragging on him more than ever.
She'd hit him with her cane like he were a dog.
That night he had a surprise for her. It just so happened that on that very day, on that morning he woke he made the decision that he was going to fix this problem of his. He told himself that if she says one more nasty word to him he is going to kill her.
And she did. She was more ruthless than ever, using words that would make a sailor blush.
He went in his room and seconds later came out with an AK 47. An amazing assault weapon. Nobody knew he even had a such a thing. He sure did surprise a lot of people that night.
She was smoking on the couch and looked at him like he were some kind of blubbering fool. What are you doing with that thing? Put that away before you kill somebody.
Her mouth widened when he pointed the gun at her and pulled the trigger before she could get another nasty word out. Put a bullet right between her eyes and she went down like a dead log. She reached out to grab her walker but it slipped out of her fingers as she tumbled to the floor.
He pumped another bullet.
Blood spraying all over the floor,
Take that mother. How you like it now mother. Do you feel better mother?
Unfortunately it didn't stop there. If it had everybody in the neighborhood would've understood a bit. It didn't mean that it was right what he did but it was understandable.
What wasn't understandable was when he ran outside firing his AK 47 down the street and shooting at cars and the houses across the street. Folks peeking out their windows to see what was going on and ducked back inside their shell.
Of course it didn't take long for the police to arrive and when they did they were met with gunfire and one of the officers lost his life. Now, we see cars driving around with little stickers in the corners of the windows 'in memory of'.
Fortunately, the police being far better shots took him down. That blood spot is still there to this day on that neighborhood street. Folks can't help but think back about that night Fat slob lost it.
There wasn't much of a need for an investigation after that point. The detectives went looking for a motive behind his horrid actions. Turned out fat slob had a whole closet full of special weapons, automatics, rifles,grenades. It was pretty obvious he was prepping to go to war on the neighborhood. Everybody were saying wow that sure could've been a disaster even more so than it was.
They did find a diary in his drawer. He had been recording all the fights he and his mother had gotten into.
He wrote about how he was going to kill her.
And how he was going to do it.
He wrote about blowing up the neighborhood one day cause that was his dream.
He wrote about how he heard all the whispering behind his back and how nobody understood anything. This had been written in the diary several times over in various places.
He wrote about his best friend. And the detective reading all this thought wow he had a best friend?
Names of people he didn't like or had said something been to him were written on a list on the first page of the book. Everybody in the neighborhood was written on that list. Except for a young boy who'd friended him which had been dead for six years. The boy's name was Riley, and he was always playing with fat slob and it was probably the only time anybody ever saw him out in his front yard laughing,
But Riley wasn't going to be around long and he knew it. He had been born with some kind of cancer and lost the battle six months after his sixth birthday. You wouldn't know know it bay talking to him to though. He was a happy go lucky kid full of spit and spirit. The kind who makes everybody laugh when he's around. He lived his life to the fullest for such a young child. It was then fat slob tucked himself away in his shell and hardly ever went outside except at night to make the run for his mother.
A lot of people were thinking that if the boy was still alive to this day none of this would've ever happened.
Perhaps it was the boy keeping him sane preventing him from flipping out. But nobody will ever know that now.