The house was a real dump when Ronald first bought it. Being mechanically inclined, Ronald was determined to buy a fixer-upper. He got just that in the run-down two-story American Foursquare house. It was built in the early 1900's, and still had a chimney, although the flue had been closed off by Ronald himself. The porch ran the entire length of the front, and Donny saw the old wooden swing was still there, although it was no longer attached to the rafters of the porch roof. The metal chains hung around the swing like steel braids of hair.
    Ronald did many home improvements: dry-wall work, some plumbing, replacing the antiquated water heater, and other jobs too numerous to mention. Both the front facade and the side had double windows, on the edge of the corners of the house. When viewed from the sidewalk at a three/quarter angle, it seemed the house had 2 faces. The side and front doors resembled a closed mouth.
    From outward appearances, it looked like Evan did not do much along the lines of maintenance. The eave spouts were clogged with leaves, giving what seemed like a tuft of hair to the faces on the house. The rust-grimed spouts ran down the chipped blue paint of the siding. Donny sighs. If he were master of this castle, it would be kept tidier.
    Donny has his duffle bag, with all his clothes. Dirty laundry was now a better description for his threads. They had been unclean for weeks. Donny knocks on the elaborate French door to his childhood home. Ronald had installed the double-doors on the front when he and Marissa first bought the home. They had been there as long as Donny could remember. Ronald always joked they needed the entryway large because of all the parties they would throw. True to form, Ronald did in fact have quite a few shindigs throughout the years, up until Donny popped out onto the scene. Evan answers, opening one of the doors and stepping out.
    "Hey Evan," Donny says, revealing a smile he knows looks disgenuine. Evan shakes his head in consternation.
    "D-Donny?" Evan squeaks. Evan seems diminutive in attitude, although his weight has ballooned to what has to be pushing 300. He looks like he can barely fit through the ornate double doors. He wears glasses now. Even his eyes have deteriorated. The horn-rimmed frames pinch the beak of his large nose. Evan wears a pair of unflattering sweatpants, and a blue tanktop with white stripes. There is a blotch of sweat-stain on the front, underneath Evan's man-tits.
    "A lot of things have changed," Donny says obliquely, "I spoke to Marissa. She agreed to let me stay here."
    Evan blinks. He is like a stupid steer, in both size and manner. Donny detects the sickening stench of BO wafting off Evan. It is a sweetish, rancid smell that turns Donnie's stomach. Donny wonders how bad the house will stink now.
Then again, Donny wasn't exactly freshly scrubbed either. Donny makes his way forward, but Evan bars the door with his outstretched arms.
    "Marissa is incompetent," Evan says lowly. He says it with a tremor and Donny wonders if this is lawyer-speech handed to him, to prove his way. Donny withdraws the signed paper from the nursing home. Evan frowns, looking as if he never read english before.
    "The nurse was witness to her signature," Donny informs, "these are Marissa's wishes."
    "This ain't legal," Evan says with a snide laugh. Donny feels the shuddersome urge to strangle Evan, cutting off that nasally pitch he gives when speaking.
    "What?" Donny asks in amazement.
    "It ain't notarized, for one," Evan points out listlessly, "and besides, I've got Marissa's power of attorney."
    Donny's jaw drops. It was known that Evan had the house in his name now. But when did Marissa agree to hand over everything, including her say in her legal matters?!?!?
    "How dare you," Donny says incredulously, "you say this letter isn't legal, huh? Well, when did you trick her into signing her rights over to you? You fucking hypocrite."
    "Be nice," Evan says with a warning, "I'm not gonna take your lip anymore."
"I'm homeless because of you." Donny snarls.
"You made your own choices, Donny. We'll let the courts decide, if you want to go that route."
    Court? While things were in deliberation, Donny might freeze to death. Apparently Evan had grown some balls since Donny had been away. What strength of fortitude it took to weasel an older woman out of her home and possessions. But Donny still detects the unease underneath Evan's insolent tone.
    "This is my father's house," Donny says with thinly-controlled rage, "and I'm staying here."
    Donny charges forward, shouldering Evan out of the way. Evan squeals in surprise, sounding like the pig he also smells like. Donny pauses in the front foyer. Where were the pictures? All the portraits of his family were nowhere to be found. The last frame of the family while Ronald was alive used to be on the nearest facing wall. Donny had been a teenager in the picture, and Ronald had just begun to lose weight from the cancer. Now, there was a blank spot.
    Evan grabs Donnys bag, and tugs on it.
    "this is MY house now!!" Evan says, spewing forth spittle. The strap of the bag wraps around Donny's neck, ripping his head backward. Donny wheels his arm for purchase and finds none. He tumbles to the front floor mat. Evan stands above him. As the fatty looks down, his neck fat pinches outward, giving him not only a second chin, but a third one as well.
    Donny awkwardly struggles to his feet, fighting the incessant pulling of Evan. the idiot is trying to drag him onto the porch. Donny loses it. He starts punching wildly. The first two jabs miss their mark, but finally one connects with Evan's cheek. Donny was normally not violent. Even his worst crimes did not have Donny injuring anyone (although Jessie Baxter was more than willing to, during the pharmacy job).
    Donny loses his mind, as he strikes Evan again and again and again. Evan's glasses are broken along the bridge. His nose is gushing blood. Those beefy lips are torn along one side. Evan's jowls flap with the force of each punch. Donny would have beat him to death, but a shrieking voice comes from inside the house.
    "STOP!!" the feminine voice shouts, "you're killing him!!! Stop, or I'll call the police!!!"
    Donny turns his head in bewilderment, his fist still raised above his shoulder. Inside the foyer, a chubby asian woman is standing in her bathrobe. To Donny's disgust, the robe is hanging open. The woman's gigantic underwear compress some of her gullet, but that only makes the glob of her reaming stomach puff out over her thick waistband. One of her breasts hangs free, nearly touching that mound of fat gut.
    "Who are you?!?!" Donny demands.
    "I'm Wong-May," she says in a fluttering voice, "get off my fiance!!"
    Donny is blown away by this realization. Evan has taken his mother for all she is worth, and now is getting remarried. Donny would like nothing more than to drive a knife into the enlarged heart of this bastard. But he gets off of Evan anyway.
    Donny can only shake his head. There was no winning in this life. NOt for Donald Grieves. Donny turns, and examines the prone body of Evan. The zig-zagged nasal passage indicates a broken nose for Evan. Good. Donny hoped he chokes on his own blood, dying in a pitiful mess.
    Donny picks up his duffle bag, steps over Evan's body, and hurriedly walks down the front path. He will never see this house again, not after assaulting Evan. Donny might be headed to jail today. Good. Let them come. Maybe if he threatened the cops with his stubby knife, they will gun him down. Death by cop.
    Donny wished death not only for himself, but for Evan too, in the worst kind of way. He would rather watch the house burnt to cinders than have Evan stay here. In Donny's deranged fantasy, Evan was in the basement as the house was engulfed. Donny does not look back.