Father and his son, the wimp

The boy turned fifteen. His father bought him a shotgun. He taught his son how to load, clean and shoot the gun. He would say, "Kid you've got to stand up for yourself, always." He would make the boy shoot round after round, his shoulder would ache. He would rather read comics, go on his phone, and jerk off like any normal teenager. He didn't like going to the rifle range with his father. The place gave him the creeps.

One Saturday morning in June, his father said, "Get your rifle and get in the car, MOVE IT!" He did what he was told. He sat in the front seat waiting for his father, dreading another four hours of shooting. They drove to the railroad tracks down to the river. They got out. "Where are we going dad?" Dad said nothing and gestured to the underpass of the bridge that went over the tracks.

There was a bum sleeping in a gully near one of the bridge supports. The father put his hand over his mouth to signify that he wanted quiet. He handed the boy a round, the kid loaded it into the rifle.  "When I was your age my first hit was a deer, but times have changed." He walked over to the bum and kicked him soundly in the ribs. The bum screamed and tried to get up. "SHOOT HIM!" yelled dad. The kid just stood there. "I SAID SHOOT HIM!!" The bum was now on his feet and pleading for his life. The kid started to shake. The father grabbed the rifle. The bum tried to escape. The shot caught the bum right in the cheek, removing most of his face and forehead.

He grabbed the kid by the arm and walked him over to the corpse. He pushed the kids face an inch away from the bum's shattered face. "LOOK!! Look, you little coward, look!" The boy was crying. He tried to cover his eyes but his father grabbed his arms. Finally he grabbed the boy by the hair and took him back to the car. "Let's go you wimp. We're going back home. Next time, I'll go hunting and leave you home with mom. You can wear an apron and help her sew, cook and clean, you goddamn wimp!"