by Peter Butler
'We should take-off and go do your old man's building... Start that job,' Jordy offered.
'Nah... it's too early. Too many idiot workers still around that part of town,' Zac countered. He suddenly became aggressive. 'Why is this silly bastard still here?' He hissed venomously and threw his arms up in frustration. 'He should be tucked-up in his geriatric bed at home, by now.'
As he spoke they all heard a commotion come from the store and they instantly fell silent. The front door of Rafferty's Hardware flew open and a man stumbled out, almost falling to his knees. He steadied himself then turned back, placed a plastic shopping bag on the ground beside his feet and closed the door. Then he proceeded to bend and closely examine the keyhole as he tried inserting various keys in the lock without success. The boys could hear him mumbling to himself and he seemed to be rocking slightly from side to side. Eventually he got lucky and the door was locked, he straightened, picked up his bag and walked, unsteadily, to the alley. At least two minutes passed before they heard the diesel engine begin to chug over and eventually cough into life. A plume of black smoke spilled out from the alley, billowing under a street-light, the motor revved loudly a few times as the driver pumped the accelerator, then the van itself reversed erratically out. With a loud crunch of gears and another gigantic belch of smoke the van suddenly charged directly at the three boy's hiding place on the opposite side of the road.
They all pressed further into the foliage they were using for cover as the van's headlights hit them and then instantly flicked back to the road as the driver corrected his path. The van roared past leaving a trailing engine roar echoing though the night and the smell of putrid exhaust as its tail lights gradually disappeared down the road.
Zac waited a further minute before giving the nod for them to put on their masks and move to the alley.
'He drives like a freak'n madman,' Jordy said with a laugh as they rode off.
Zac was grudgingly impressed that the cameras had been moved higher so promptly. Out of reach, but not enough of a problem to abort his planned activity. He didn't know if the cameras were now part of a live link back to a security company or if they just sent pictures to a hard-drive. It didn't matter either way, he would be done in a couple of minutes.
The three of them were masked-up and Jordy shone a torch on the wall in front of Zac. Wood handed him the first can and he lined up his start point on the wall. He shook the can to mix the paint inside then did a couple of practice sweeps before he actually pressed the button. A fine misty, jet of green paint shot out and streaked across the brickwork. He quickly brought the can down and followed up with a diagonal line which he looped back to make an elongated, sausage shape.
'Something is wrong,' Jordy hissed at him. 'The paint's just running down the wall... it's not sticking.'
'Shit!' Zac said, as he looked back to see his carefully crafted strokes bleeding down the wall in an ugly green mess.
Wood moved to the wall and rubbed his finger across the surface of the bricks. 'They've put something on these bricks; they're really shiny and smooth.'
Zac glared at the wall inside his Ronald Reagan mask, his blood beginning to boil. 'The fuck'n retard!' He slowly shook his head. Some of the paint had already slid all the way to the roadway they were standing on. He stepped back to stop it getting on his Converse sneakers. 'The prick has sprayed the wall with silicon,'
'What ya want to do, Zac?' Jordy asked.
With cat-like speed Zac rounded on him and punched him, hard, on the side of his face. It sounded more like a slap as the plastic Elmer Fudd mask got caught between fist and face and bent in half. Jordy dropped the torch in shock. 'Don't use names..! you dopey shit. We don't know if those cameras have mics on 'em... Pick up the bloody torch and shine it where I tell you.'
Jordy rubbed his cheek as he retrieved the torch. When he looked up Zac was pointing at the road surface. Jordy shone the light as he'd been told.
Zac began to paint the road.
***
Larry had become more and more excited as he dished out his punishment to Zac. He had almost completed his task and his concentration was beginning to wane when he slowly became aware of the anxiety rising within his body. The excitement had over-ridden all other feelings that had existed, but now that part of the process was drawing to a close the balance was tipping the other way. He realized the increased number of endorphins and other neuropeptides in his brain, coupled with his rather large intake of alcohol had created a profound impact on his gut. Larry's stomach suddenly went into spasm. Pain shot through his belly and he doubled up, involuntarily. As he did, a loud cracking fart squirted from him and a look of horror appeared on his face as he feared it was more than gas he had just expelled.
He dropped what he was holding and with his butt-cheeks clenched as tightly as he could manage, waddled his way to the nearest bathroom. A high-pitched squeal; almost a whistle, was erupting from his backside as he made his way, crab-like, to the door. He released his trousers, dropped them to the floor and urgently sat on the toilet in one fluid movement. Fluid movement being an accurate description of what happened next; Larry's bowels opened as they never had before - spray painting every part of the toilet bowel, accompanied with an excruciatingly loud, off-key and off-color, trumpet sound.
Larry sat gripping his belly in agony, he could feel the contractions through his hands as his stomach maintained an almost continuous stream of spasms. The contents of his bowels continued to empty in sporadic, volcanic spurts.
After what seemed like several minutes the pain gradually started to ease a little and the spasms began to subside along with Larry's groans. He opened his eyes and found himself slumped forward, looking forlornly at his trousers which were gathered around his ankles and noted with dread that the initial fart had not actually been just a fart.
***
With dinner finished and a few hurried goodbyes uttered, Dillon was back on his bike and pedaling hard through the familiar darkened streets, the sack of spray-cans once again hanging off his right handlebar. He entered Colony Forest drive and left the road surface to ride on the grass verge on the opposite side of the road to Zac's property, figuring that security cameras were very likely covering the main areas. He already knew the place was surrounded by a huge fence and a gate that would be unlikely to be unlocked. But, he had a plan. He was young and agile, his only handicap was a little damage to his face, which should not be an issue for the job at hand..
Dillon crossed the road when he came to the the intersection where Briapatch Crescent crossed, and this time hugged the fence surrounding Zac's place. He chose a point that was midway between two street lights and dimly lit to lean his bike against the fence. He untied the sack from the handlebar and placed it on the ground, then took a moment to look both ways along the street to verify he was alone.
Using his weight and the angle of the bike against the fence to anchor it to the ground he cautiously climbed onto the top bar and with hands against the wall he straightened up until he was able to look over the top of the concrete wall. Darkness was what he mostly saw, shadowy bushes and trees filled the area on the inside of the fence, he could make out lights through the foliage but the immediate area seemed to be perfect for his plan. He climbed down from his bike and grabbed the sack, it had enough spare room at the top to tie a knot in its neck, securing the contents inside. This also had the added benefit of pushing all the tins together making them less likely to rattle. He stepped back and began to swing the bag in a full arm loop, releasing it at the appropriate moment and sending it in a gentle arc, up and over the fence to land, with a bigger noise than he had anticipated, on the other side.
Now it was Dillon's turn. He climbed onto his bike again and gripped the top of the fence. With a grunt, he jumped and lifted his body until he was lying half over the fence. He twisted around until he could lift his right leg up also. From then on it was easy to sit on the top of the fence and contemplate his next step. He decided it was too
high to just jump down, so he eased himself over and gripped the top as he let his body disappear over the edge until only his fingers held him. He dropped the last few feet to the ground and brushed away any dirt from his clothes as he listened for any noises that would indicate he had been spotted. He knew there were no dogs patrolling the property, as his friends had made particular mention of that - apparently Zac's sister, Lissy, was a pussy-person and would not allow her father to purchase security dogs for fear of them killing her two beloved Persians, Hilary and Barrack. Dillon had decided he would like to meet Lissy, they seemed to have a lot in common, he was a pussy-person, too.
He made his way to the edge of the garden and his mouth gaped open at the sight of a grassed area the size of a football field. To his right he could see the main house, it was an imposing two-story structure with lighted windows scattered randomly throughout. He looked to his left and could see another building, it was smaller and partially hidden by foliage. He made his way towards it, keeping to the shadows. When he was close, he blended into the bushes and waited. He needed to make sure Zac wasn't home, or anyone else for that matter. He trembled with excitement and fear, he had never done anything this bold in all his life, he suspected it was highly illegal. He knew that the breaking-in part was definitely illegal, but what he had in mind might just put an end to Zac and his gang's antics, so he was actually doing the law a favor.
Suddenly a movement near the house caught his eye and he froze. Someone had been waiting in the darkness beside the wall of the small house and they were now slowly making their way towards the front door. Dillon was ready to bolt at a moments notice and he watched as the person slipped through a small pool of light coming from a window. He reasoned that it couldn't be anyone who belonged at the house as they would have no need to be hiding in the shadows. As the form passed another window his eyes had adjusted to the available light and he was ready to make a more accurate assessment of what was happening. He only had a second but he knew the person was a female - she was dressed in black and wearing a very small miniskirt. It must be Zac's sister, Lissy. But why is she sneaking around her own house? Dillon knew that Lissy lived in the main house with her parents and housekeepers. She must be spying on Zac.
That revelation brought an immediate reaction from Dillon, if Lissy was spying on Zac, then he must be inside. He was about to turn and head back to the fence when the girl cautiously edged into an even larger lit area and turned and scanned the darkened area beyond the house. Dillon froze when her face flashed into view. He had never seen Lissy, but he had seen this girl - it was Emily Kane.
Dillon's mind raced. What the hell is she doing here? Is she still an item with Zac? Did she lie to him? He had to find out what was going on. He left his bag on the ground and moved from the cover of the bushes, heading silently straight towards her. Emily was now peering through the front door, intently scanning the area inside with her right hand shielding her eyes as Dillon slid silently up behind her. He reached out and gently tapped her on the shoulder.
Emily reacted instinctively; to her credit she didn't scream or make any sound at all, her years of karate training instantly becoming activated - she simply pivoted around in a blur of movement, her hand flashed out and the heel of her palm rammed into Dillon's chin, an almost simultaneous knee to his groin completed the maneuver. Dillon hit the ground like a boxer with only ten seconds of fight left in him. He groaned as he doubled up in a fetal position at her feet, one hand protectively covering his balls, the other, his lower face.
'Dillon...?' she hissed at him in confusion. 'Oh... shit!' She knelt over him, placing her hand on his shoulder to reassure him the beating had ended. 'You scared the crap out of me... Sorry.'
He looked up at her through teary, squinted eyes, and said, 'I feel terrible.'
'I'm so sorry. You poor thing.'
'I was being sarcastic,' he offered in a scratchy voice. 'About scaring you... But I do actually feel terrible, also.'
Emily made a face, indicating she shared his pain. 'Is there anything I can do?'
'No...' he groaned. 'This is one of those pains that only a guy can understand,'
Emily watched as his face filled with lines of watery tears.
After a moment he slowly moved his body around and started to sit up with an accompanying, 'Arrgh..!' Emily held out her hand to help him to his feet. When he was standing, still slightly bent in the middle and cupping himself, she gently reached out and held his chin to examine the fresh bruise she had inflicted. Then she bent forward and gently kissed him on the point of his chin where she had hit him, then pulled back and grinned.
Dillon managed a small smile, then said with emphasis, 'That's not the part that hurts the most...'
Emily broke into a broad smile that threatened to become a laugh. 'I'm really, really sorry, Dillon.'
After another period of silence, this one slightly longer, she added, 'What are you doing here?'
'I was going to ask you the same thing,' he replied. 'But I was going to wait until after I'd managed to re-swallow my balls.'
She gave him a look, indicating that his balls were no longer the topic. Then she said, 'I came to payback Zac for hitting the both of us.'
'Is he in there?' he asked anxiously as he turned his attention for the first time to the room they were standing outside of. What he saw made his jaw fall open. 'Oh... my... God!'
Emily had followed his lead and was gazing into the living room, also. 'I know,' she said in amazement, 'I'd just seen it when you tapped me on the shoulder. I'm pretty sure no one is inside, I was checking the other windows as I worked my way to the front.'
'Has somebody gone crazy?' Dillon asked as he shook his head at what he was looking at. The large room contained beautiful sofas and coffee tables, rugs on the floor and paintings on the walls. There were big TV's and other luxuries that must cost a fortune and he could only ever dream of owning. And they were all covered in brightly colored spray-paint. Somebody had thoroughly vandalized the place.
'So, you didn't do this?' he asked.
'Hell no! Did you do it?'
'No way.'
'Well then, it looks awfully like Zac has made more enemies than just you and me,' Emily suggested, ' And judging by what I'm looking at, one of them is a total whack-job!'
Dillon had already done the math and he had a pretty good suspicion who that "whack-job" might be. That made his original plan even more important if his boss had flipped-out and done this. He couldn't let on to Emily that he had an idea who had done it, so he said, 'Maybe Zac went mad and did it himself? Nah! He's mad alright but he wouldn't do this. How were you planning on punishing Zac?'
Emily gave him a grin and stuck her hand into a small, invisible pocket that was part of the side of her black miniskirt and pulled out a pair of small scissors. She held them up for Dillon to see. 'I was going to cut big holes in his beloved jackets. The ones with the big "Z" on the back and the chest pockets. He totally loves those things and it would almost kill him to loose them. Oh, I know his daddy would replace them, but that would take some time.'
Dillon was looking at her in shock.
'What?' She asked. 'You think I'm such a bad person for trying to wreck his clothes?'
Dillon shook his head at her. 'No! I was just thinking how glad I was you had them in your pocket and not your hand.'
'Ha! Good point,' she chuckled. 'Valuable lesson. Never sneak up on a girl - you never know what you might get.'
Something in the way she said that intrigued Dillon.
'What were you planning to do to him?' Emily asked.
'I followed him, Wood and Jordy and I found where they were hiding their spray-cans in the forest outside of town.'
Emily looked at him like she had no idea of what he was talking about.
'You do know that Zac is the number one graffitiest in town? He's been painting crap all over the place, all of it signed with a big Z. Kinda stupid if you ask me. But I guess he figures his old man will
keep him out of trouble if he gets caught.'
'I didn't know that. I do know he's into art in a big way, he sees himself as the next Picasso. He's got a studio out the back of this place,' she nodded to herself as she took it all in. 'It makes sense. His ego is so huge he'd need a big canvas to prove his brilliance. What a schmuck!' She paused and then looked at Dillon and said, 'Why did he keep the cans in the forest?'
'I'm not sure. But I guess if your old man's a lawyer you'd probably learn not to keep the evidence of the crime with you.'
So, what was your plan?'
'I brought the cans with me. I was going to leave them by the front door for his father to find, with a note I wrote.'
'And what words of terminal brilliance did you compose?' Emily grinned, mockingly.
'I typed something along the lines - "Please stop your son. He is a graffiti vandal. These are some of his cans but I have the rest and they are covered with his fingerprints. If you don't stop him I will take them to the police and send him to jail."
Emily looked at him with a mixture of surprise and disappointment. 'Seriously! Is that the best you could come up with? Blackmailing a lawyer.'
'I was in a hurry. Give me a break.'
Emily smiled and shook her head. 'Where are the cans?'
'Back in the bushes over there,' he said, pointing at his hiding spot.
'Show me,' she said, as she took his hand and headed to where he had pointed.
It was dark and Emily couldn't see very much inside the bag after she had untied it. She felt what seemed to be a box of tissues, and said, 'What's in this box?'
'Rubber gloves.'
Emily's face lit-up in the darkness. 'Get your awesomely terrifying note out of the bag, Dillon, and put it in your pocket where it won't be able to scare me,' she grinned cheekily at him. 'Then get the box of gloves out.' She did a bad impression of Dr Evil's laugh and held her little finger to the corner of her mouth. 'I have an idea.'
Emily took Dillon's hand again, and led him away.