Conversation Took A Left Turn Ch 01

Bobby was back on the right track.

THIS IS A RAAC

You have to read Tnicoll story first, or

you will not understand the ending

of this one. This is not a standalone story.

I want to thank Tnicoll for allowing me to write an ending to his story,

https://www.literotica.com/s/this-conversation-took-a-left-turn

He is a far better writer than I am.

I loved the story and main character, Bobby. You couldn't help but love the guy. I decided I would like to try to save him. So this is an unusual RAAC. Not great. But unusual. You are warned. It is over the top.

The one thing I learned from this writing this story is. You can destroy a marriage in a couple of sentences and in a minute of time. But it takes a novel and a lifetime to fix one.

Microsoft editor said it was 100% correct and Grammarly 99% unless you are on an airplane it's good enough.

I left out a few details that I didn't think all that important. Good Luck!

The announcer's voice blared in the backed ground, "It's 4th down and Goal to go." Bobby stared at the clock. Twenty seconds remained in the game. Madison County was out of time-outs.

The scored bored lights illuminated the fact they were behind 33 to 38. They had been stopped by Chilton County from scoring on the three earlier attempts.

Everyone hurried back to the line of scrimmage. Bobby stared at the sideline, waiting for the next play to be signaled into the game from the coach.

The clock was down to 5 seconds before Bobby clapped his hands. The center fired the ball back, and Bobby dropped it. When he regained the handle to the ball, he looked up to see he was being blitzed by the safety.

He quickly sidestepped him and broke to his right, trying to find a receiver. He could feel the left-side defensive end closing on him from behind. He looked up to see his cousin Ralph standing wide open in the endzone, jumping up and down frantically, waving his arms, screaming, "Throw me the ball!"

Bobby took off towards the end zone just in time to see two linebackers waiting on him to drive his dick into the dirt. He turned upfield towards the goal line, trying to hit the open space between them. All three collided, and Bobby stopped momentarily. And with his powerful legs continually driving, he fell forward to cross the goal line.

He stood up to see the ref raising his hand to signal touchdown. He heard the crowds screaming. He turned around to receive his accolades from his teammates, but the field was empty except for him.

Bobby looked over to the sidelines for his girlfriend waiving her pom poms. He could see Mary's face smiling at him dressed in her Badger cheerleader outfit. She was surrounded by tall good looking men.

Then he saw her being lifted up by these men wearing high-priced Armani Italian suits. She was carried off the field in the opposite direction from him. She was waving goodbye. She mouthed, "I love you. Goodbye."

He looked over to see his mother, her grandmother, and his cousin Ralph cheering for her, as she was carried off the field to an area marked Successful Men Only. He could see the Mercedes, Audis, and Land Rovers parked side by side.

"Mr. Baurs," he heard coming from behind him. "You are under arrest for Aggravated Assault with the intent to cause bodily harm."

Bobby was standing in his orange jumpsuit facing the judge. He turned to see his Mother, Grandmother, and Mary sitting behind him. He looked around to see the rest of the gallery fille with men dressed in tailored suits catering to Mary's every need.

"Mr. Baurs, "Spoke the judge. Since you threw yourself at the mercy of the court, you are sentenced to five years at the State Prison at Tunica, for a period not to exceed five years, but not less than two years. You're hereby ordered to pay Mr. Paxton $100,000 restitution for his pain and suffering. Plus, any hospital charges he incurred.

I know he will never see a cent of it because you are a LOSER. But if you ever manage to get your shit together, it will be expected to be paid. Although knowing you, it will never happen." Bam! Down came the Gavel. Bobby turned to see Mary being escort out the door by her cheering paramours.

She was mouthing, "I love you, Bobby," as she slowly disappeared into the blackness of the courtroom hallway.

He screamed, "Mary, Mary, Mary, come back to me, Mary."

He felt his bed shaking from under his back. "Shut the fuck up. You're dreaming about that bitch again."

The next thing he heard was the guard banging on the bars with his stick. "Bauer's he yelled, "Shut the fuck up, or your ass will end up in solitary for a month."

"Sorry, sir," he replied. He laid back down on his pillow with his hands behind. Looking up at the ceiling, he noticed the shadow of the bars across the ceiling. He knew this would be his new home for at least the next, two to three years if he behaves, himself. He shook his head, wondering how in the hell did I get here?

"Baurs," yelled the guard. Bobby looked around to see who was yelling at him. It was extremely noisy in the laundry area. He had been assigned to the laundry crew when he first arrived.

He felt lucky. He had something to do. It could be awful boring sitting in your cell 12 hours a day.

"Baurs," came the voice. I turned to see the guard standing behind him.

"Yes, Sir. I didn't see where you were the first time. I'm sorry it won't happen again, sir."

"Get your ass over to see the counselor this afternoon after your shift ends," he ordered.

"Yes, sir. I will," I replied. I was earning the magnificent sum of $2.00 per hour before taxes. I brought home 1.50 an hour, in which I had to pay .50 cents toward the victims, restitution. Seventy-five cents to my wife for the children. And I keep .25 cents to spend at the commissary.

Mary said I didn't need to do that but, I insisted. I didn't want anybody ever saying I didn't support my kids.

I reported to the counselor that afternoon. Knocking on the door, I heard, "Come in."

I stood in front of the little pudgy, man with a comb-over. Looking at me from over the top of his glasses without raising his head. "Sit down, Baurs," he ordered. After rustling around in his papers, he pushed his chair back and leaned back in his swivel chair.

"How are you doing, Bobby?" He had removed his glasses and chewed on the earpiece, waiting on my answer, "Fine, Sir."

"Bobby, I was notified that there was a disturbance in your cell last night. Are you still having those nightmares?"

I replied, "Yes, sir."

"How about your other problem. How's it going?" he asked.

"I took the last of the antibiotics last night. It was my own stupid fault I got it," I replied. They both knew what Bobby was talking about the Gonorrhea contracted from that little whore, Patti.

"We have started a new program here at the facility," he informed me. I thought to myself, facility huh. It's just another wonderful way to say prison.

"We have started a mentor program. You've been assigned to Dutch Morgan. We find older inmates willing to help the other new inmates transition into prison life.

Dutch was chosen for you because you and he have a lot in common. You are to report to him after your shift is over in the laundry tomorrow."

The next day I walked out into the yard to see a man working at the corner of the yard. As I walked toward him, he was on his knees, running his hand through the Bermuda grass.

"Hello, Dutch. I'm Bobby Baurs."

He never looked up from his grass. "Only my friends call me. Dutch. You can call me Mr. Morgan."

I looked at this older inmate and thought, what an asshole. "Nice grass you got there. Too bad it's not the good stuff," I chuckled.

He stood up and knocked the grass off his pants. He looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties. He was in magnificent shape for a man his age.

"That's your problem," burst out his lips. "Always l looking for the laugh. You have the need the be the life of the party. Always the center of attention, the party, big man on campus.

"Fuck you, old man," I snarled. "You don't know shit about me."

Laughing, he replied. "I know everything there is to know about you, just by looking at the poor excuse of man you are."

"Bullshit," I snarled.

He shook his head. "Let me ask you a few questions. You look like a country boy?"

"Damn straight. I am."

"Small town?"

"Yep, Fifteen-Thousand"

"You look like you might have been an athlete. Football or Basketball?" he asked,

"Damn, starting quarterback. All-State." I was showing him.

"All-State, huh," he snickered, "What division?"

"C Division, I got a full ride to State."

"Didn't make it did you?" You were used to being the biggest kid on the block. You were bigger, stronger, and faster than those at your level. But at the next level, they were as big as you, and everything happened quicker. You were late with your throws. You couldn't process the information your eyes were giving you fast enough to get the job done. And even the lineman was faster than you. The game was just too fast for you."

He was taking the wind out of my sails.

"When you didn't make it as a starter, you didn't have the work ethic to get to the next level to be the starter. Everything came easy to you up till then."

I sat there quietly, taking in the information.

"You didn't have to do anything in high school you skated through. Your Daddy protected you. The coach pulled strings to get you through the school because you had lousy grades. The cops wouldn't haul your ass in when you fucked up because they wanted their team to win.

When you didn't make the starting team in college, you quit. Started partying and drinking, and you failed out."

My mind was reeling from his assessment. He had hit every part of my life. "Fuck you! I'm leaving," I yelled.

"That's it," he hissed. "Just give up and take the easy way out. And you'll be back in here in a few years."

I stormed off. I couldn't admit to myself that Dutch was right about me. I'm a fuck up.

.....

Just when life couldn't shit on you any more than it already has. It does it again.

I felt a tap on the shoulder. I turned to see the guard standing there looking at me. "Bobby, you have a family emergency. Go to the visitation room you have a visitor.

I walked into the room to see Ralph sitting nervously at the table. "Hey Ralph, what going on? Are Mary and the kids ok? Mom, ok?"

Ralph choked as he spoke, "It's Amanda, Bobby. She's in the hospital in a coma. She has contracted spinal meningitis. Mary asked me to come and tell you. She didn't want to wait to tell you just in case..... you know it doesn't go well. She didn't want to hit you with shocking news all at once. It'll give you a chance to prepare yourself for the worst."

I got up and yelled, "Guard! I want to see the Warden now!"

"Bobby sit down," the Warden ordered. "I am sorry, Bobby, you can't go home, even if you kept your word and came back. It's part of your punishment. Unfortunately, your family suffers from your actions also. That's just the way it is.

I'm putting you in solitary until we receive notification of your daughter's situation. You're here for only two-and-half to three years if you behave. I don't want you doing something stupid and trying to escape. Worse yet, lose your temper and start a fight.

You're a good old boy, Bobby. When you fight, all you do is kick their ass. These men here fight to kill. They have a different set of standards. They would mudhole stomp you until it was dry. And even if you were to survive, you'll have to watch your back for the rest of the time your time here."

In a fatherly tone, "Bobby, go with the guards, and as soon as we receive any news, you'll be the first to know."

As I walked toward solitary, we passed the prison chapel. I turned to guard, "May I please go in and pray for my little girl," as my eyes redden and clouded up with tears.

"Sure, Bobby, I'll give you a few minutes. I have a little girl also. I feel your pain." he replied. "I'll pray for her in church this weekend."

"Thanks," I replied. I walked into the chapel and knelt at the altar. It had been years since I even thought about God. I hope he was listening. Why should he know who I was? I sure forgot all about him.

"God, please, protect my little girl. She's sweet and innocent. She doesn't deserve this. Take me instead. I am not worth a shit. Please help Mary stay strong and to help her get thru this. I should be there at her side with our daughter.

If you give me a chance, I promise, I will always be there when they need me from now on. God, Please help Amanda. She just turned 13 years old and has her whole life ahead of her.

If, you have to take her from us. Please don't let my little girl suffer. Assholes like me deserve what we get, but not babies." I was sobbing.

I felt a light touch on my shoulder by the guard. "Come on, Bobby, we have to go."

It was the longest two weeks of my life. I struck a lot of deals with God during my stay if he would make my Amanda better. One afternoon when I heard the door open to the cell door.

I was scared shitless when I saw the Warden standing there staring at me. It felt like a century had passed when he smiled and said, "She's going to be ok, Bobby. She is out of her coma." I broke down and bawled. The Warden said, "Come on, Bobby, let's go." A couple of months later, Mary wanted to bring the kids to see me. I refused to let my kids near this place.

I walked back into my cell. I just happened to glance at the mirror, and for the first time in my life, I didn't like what I saw. Wayne, the great American actor once said, 'Life is hard. Life's a lot harder if your stupid." And boy was I .

Mary was being generous when she said I had gained forty pounds. It was over eighty, and it all shifted to my stomach. She was right about one thing. Well, maybe a whole lot of things. I wasn't huge in the dick department, and I hadn't seen it in years.

......

I walked up and looked at Dutch as he pulled weeds out of his grass. "Mr. Morgan, I am willing to listen now if you will let me."

He stood up and asked me to follow him to the outdoor picnic tables.

"First, now that you're not acting like an asshole, you can call me Dutch. I'm happy to hear about your little girl. I don't have kids myself. I can only imagine how scared you were. I imagine it made you look in the mirror at yourself, and you didn't like what you saw."

I nodded yes.

"That's a good start. I am going to tear you down. I want you to see things in yourself that turned you into who and what you are today. I am not going to call you man because you're not. You have a man's body with a teenage boy's mindset.

Bobby, have you ever heard the term, 'dumb bimbo'? I nodded my head, yes. "Well, that is what you are. Your just the male version of it. Ever seen a beautiful woman that acts like 12-year-old Valley Girls." Bobby looked confused as to where this was going.

Dutch explained, "When young girls figure they can use their looks and beauty to get what they want without having to work for it, they quit maturing. It doesn't matter what age, 10, 12, 18, or 21. If they do that, they quit maturing. And by the time they hit forty. And lose their looks, they realize they are in trouble, and it might be too late. That's when they have to start maturing again or end up living with cats.

You're the male version of it, Bobby. When you hit 15 or 16, you were bigger, faster, and had more natural talent than anyone around you. Instead of working hard to improve, you skated.

And when you failed in college, you didn't have the knowledge, drive, or know-how to become successful. Your high point in your life is High School. You were the big guy on campus.

When you get together with your drinking buddies, do you regale your high school days? They love hearing your war stories. That's because they also are stuck in that period known as the 'good old days.' How many times have you told that one story that made you the superstar to get that free beer?"

Bobby nodded his head and replied, "Maybe a thousand."

Dutch asked, "Bobby, tell me about your wife."

Bobby teared up as he spoke, "She was my first. She was the head cheerleader, and I was the quarterback of our high school. Mary and I were voted, Homecoming King and Queen, as well as Prom King and Queen. She was the sweetest person I have ever known. We were madly in love.

Well, I knocked her up when I came home from college. We didn't have much money, so we moved into the basement of my mother's house. She had kicked my dad out for cheating. He died a year later of a heart attack.

After we were married, she eventually turned into a rip-roaring bitch. I could never do anything right. She bitched about me, having a few beers with my buddies and spending weekends with them.

She bitched about how I folded towels, mopped the floors, cut the grass. Nothing was good enough. I finally gave up and let her do it all.

We won't be married much longer. Mary is divorcing me as soon Amanda graduates from high school."

I went on to tell him after I was thrown out of college. I went from one scheme to another. None worked out, but I kept trying. When I was about 25 years old. My mom gave Mary and me enough money for a down payment on the house. She was tired of my lazy ass sitting around the house drinking beer."

I couldn't look him in the eyes when I told him because of my stupidity. "Mary and I were in an open relationship that I caused by my actions," I told him that she would give me a pity fuck every once in a while but not till I proved I was STD-free.

Dutch shook his head. "Let me get this right. You fucked up with the local whore, and your wife didn't kick your ass out of the house?"

I nodded yes. Dutch sighed, "What a dumbass. Tell me, what kind of men does she see?

I thought carefully, "Well, she is a paralegal and collaborates with lawyers. I paid so little attention to her I thought she was a receptionist. I know the guy I beat the shit out works with her. She has gone out with my cousin Ralph, and he owns his accounting firm. I think she has gone out with a few stockbrokers also."

Dutch replied, "Trading up. First lesson about women. They do not marry down. And if they figure out they did, they're gone. The only reason you're still around and not divorced is because of kids.

What man wants a pity fuck from his wife. How do you feel about that situation?"

I started to answer his question. He cut me off, "I don't want you to answer. I want you to think about those questions."

I'm going to tell you why she's a bitch. She had to be the man in the family and the kids, plus you. Women are not men, no matter what you hear from other people. They're not better or worse, simply different. Each sex excels in capabilities that they do better than the other sex.

Women are not wired to manage the pressure as men do. Nature made men oversee that responsibility. When your wife goes out with other men, does she dress feminine and act like a lady? Does she seem relaxed and smile a lot?"

I nodded yes.

"That's because the man is acting like a man. He is supplying masculinity in the relationship. A woman wants the man, be a man.

"I hate it," I replied. "It kills me every time I think about her being with another man. I hurt bad."

"Good," replied Dutch. "Keep that feeling within you, Bobby. I want you to remember that feeling every time you do a half-ass job and what it has cost you.

Now, I want to give you some rules to survive this place. The first rule in here, BE POLITE. Say excuse me, Show respect." He explained.

I replied, "I'll show respect and be polite. But don't worry about me. I can take care of myself."