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Porter is asleep on the couch when Dick gets home, waking Porter up by yelling. “Stop lazing around, boy! I’ve been working hard all day at the casino to keep a roof over your head!” Porter will never forgive himself for being asleep at that moment. Dick doesn’t seem all that forgiving either, judging by the way his finger caresses the trigger of his gun. But he wouldn’t kill Porter. At least, probably not. He could, though… very easily. And Dick definitely wants him to know that. Is the gun’s safety on or off? There’s only one way to find out, and Porter’s never liked one way streets… or dead ends. He shoots off of the couch at the sound of Dick’s voice, images of belts flashing through his mind. “S-sorry!” “Sorry? Just sorry?” “Sorry sir!” “Better. Now get your ass in the car, we’re going hunting.” Porter silently complies, making sure not to drag his feet, no matter how much he wants to. They get into the pickup truck, and the drive to the hunting grounds is long and silent.
When they arrive, they take their gear, go crouch in a bush, and wait. An hour passes by and finally Dick sees a deer. Porter watches as it takes shaky steps, it seems smaller and more emaciated than normal. “Now, Porter!” Dick smiles like a rusted shard of metal. “You- you want me to shoot it?” “Yes, it’s about time you helped put food on the table. Now shoot it before it gets away!” “But it’s just a child! And I think there’s something wrong with it! It looks sick!” “There ain’t nothing wrong with hurting a child. And the sick ones especially, they deserve to be hurt. Someone’s got to cull the herd. Survival of the fittest and all that.” Porter’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Are we still talking about the deer?” Dick stared at him for a long time before saying “Depends. You gonna shoot it?” Porter slowly shook his head, too afraid to speak the words he knew would disappoint Dick. “Alright, well I'm not a monster, Porter. What, did you think I was gonna shoot you?” He laughs boisterously, and obviously at Porter’s expense. Porter tries to speak, but Dick talks first. “I won’t shoot you. But since you’ve treated the noble sport of hunting like a fucking joke, i’ll have to carve a J into your arm. J for joke, because that's what you are. It’ll be deep enough to scar, as a reminder so this doesn’t happen again.” As soon as Dick finishes, Porter is GONE.