And You Can't Tell Anyone (Track Twelve: III) 2, chapter 19
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*Wren*
"And we're gonna send her to crash and burn," Billie Joe added.
Tré let out a deep, resonating, "Muhahahahahahahaaaahaaa--" Cough. Wheeze. Gasp. Cough. "Erherm, where was I? Oh yeah. --hahahahahaha!"
"Now, on with the revenge." Billie Joe adjusted an imaginary tie around his neck. "We must first revisit basic anti-blackmailing techniques. The most important are the Sacred Seven S's."
Having never heard of these, Wren propped her chin on her shoulder and waited. If the guys had time to think up a bunch of guidelines to revenge, then they obviously knew what they were doing. Immediately she began to regret her confidence.
Billie Joe looked over at Tré. "What were they again?"
"Uh..." Tré chewed on the drumstick, "Smooching, sex, shit, sex, sodomy, sex, and screwing. No wait, that's for something else."
Billie Joe threw a pick at him. "Shame! I thought you of all people--Hey, that's one of them!"
"Shame. Sneaking. Stalking. Snooping. Secrets. Scare." Mike listed them off flawlessly.
Tré snapped his fingers. "Fuck. Well, I was close. Yeah. Those are the ones."
"So, now that you know that, we're ready to get on with this." Tré stuck a drumstick under his arm like a drill sergeant's baton and began pacing. "Okay. Our mission is to find out whatever dirty little secret she's got, and spread it all over town."
"I hate to break it to you," Wren drawled, "But most people don't go talking about dirty little secrets in a loud voice so we can hear. They're called secrets for a reason."
"Silence in the ranks!" Tré barked, making everyone else in the room jump. "I never said this mission would be easy. It will take all our skill, all our determination, all our amazingly good looks, all our talent, all our chocolate syrup, and a bit of our sleep time. Now, Mike, you're going to be the...Corporal WhoLooksLikesTheBadassMuscle. Billie Joe, you're Lieutenant DriverGuy. Wren, you're with me. We're Reconnaissance. Actually, you're Corporal SneaksAroundForInformationChick. I'm the Emperor."
"It sounds like we're in a big time stake out," she commented with a smile.
"Where have you been? When do we ever do anything small-time?" The Lieutenant Driver Guy responded before turning to Tré. "Why do you get to be the Emperor?" In response, Tré rapped him sharply on the head with the drumstick. Billie Joe yelped, "What was that for?"
"You're not supposed to interrupt a superior officer."
"I wasn't! Wren did that. Smack her for fuck's sake."
"Honour, my young private." Tré leered, "Never strike a lady. Now, back to business." He took the stick and sketched a square in the air. "This is our target."
"Where's the bull's-eye?" Wren chirped.
Tré fixed her with a beady eye. "Just because I said I won't hit you doesn't mean I won't do it anyhow. The dirty little secret is the bull's-eye. This is Mirabelle's house." Mike raised his hand. "Yes, Corporal GuyWhoLooksLikeTheBadassMuscle?"
"How do you know what the house looks like?"
"Well, most houses aren't built in circles or diamonds. You know, squares and rectangles seems to be the trend for the last thousand years or so. So," He illustrated a big circle, "The other Corporal will do this, run around the house with me, and look in the windows. You two," He pointed with the stick, nearly taking out Billie's eye, "Will wait in the car, so they can be ready to roll. Though, if we scream, then Corporal Muscles has to be on standby to rescue us." Tré stuck the drumstick back under his arm and puffed out his chest. "I love you all. So, go be free until sundown then, we must go into the heart of danger."
Alright, my dear soldiers, let us get to our kick ass hummer jeep and do some shit."
"And we're gonna send her to crash and burn," Billie Joe added.
Tré let out a deep, resonating, "Muhahahahahahahaaaahaaa--" Cough. Wheeze. Gasp. Cough. "Erherm, where was I? Oh yeah. --hahahahahaha!"
"Now, on with the revenge." Billie Joe adjusted an imaginary tie around his neck. "We must first revisit basic anti-blackmailing techniques. The most important are the Sacred Seven S's."
Having never heard of these, Wren propped her chin on her shoulder and waited. If the guys had time to think up a bunch of guidelines to revenge, then they obviously knew what they were doing. Immediately she began to regret her confidence.
Billie Joe looked over at Tré. "What were they again?"
"Uh..." Tré chewed on the drumstick, "Smooching, sex, shit, sex, sodomy, sex, and screwing. No wait, that's for something else."
Billie Joe threw a pick at him. "Shame! I thought you of all people--Hey, that's one of them!"
"Shame. Sneaking. Stalking. Snooping. Secrets. Scare." Mike listed them off flawlessly.
Tré snapped his fingers. "Fuck. Well, I was close. Yeah. Those are the ones."
"So, now that you know that, we're ready to get on with this." Tré stuck a drumstick under his arm like a drill sergeant's baton and began pacing. "Okay. Our mission is to find out whatever dirty little secret she's got, and spread it all over town."
"I hate to break it to you," Wren drawled, "But most people don't go talking about dirty little secrets in a loud voice so we can hear. They're called secrets for a reason."
"Silence in the ranks!" Tré barked, making everyone else in the room jump. "I never said this mission would be easy. It will take all our skill, all our determination, all our amazingly good looks, all our talent, all our chocolate syrup, and a bit of our sleep time. Now, Mike, you're going to be the...Corporal WhoLooksLikesTheBadassMuscle. Billie Joe, you're Lieutenant DriverGuy. Wren, you're with me. We're Reconnaissance. Actually, you're Corporal SneaksAroundForInformationChick. I'm the Emperor."
"It sounds like we're in a big time stake out," she commented with a smile.
"Where have you been? When do we ever do anything small-time?" The Lieutenant Driver Guy responded before turning to Tré. "Why do you get to be the Emperor?" In response, Tré rapped him sharply on the head with the drumstick. Billie Joe yelped, "What was that for?"
"You're not supposed to interrupt a superior officer."
"I wasn't! Wren did that. Smack her for fuck's sake."
"Honour, my young private." Tré leered, "Never strike a lady. Now, back to business." He took the stick and sketched a square in the air. "This is our target."
"Where's the bull's-eye?" Wren chirped.
Tré fixed her with a beady eye. "Just because I said I won't hit you doesn't mean I won't do it anyhow. The dirty little secret is the bull's-eye. This is Mirabelle's house." Mike raised his hand. "Yes, Corporal GuyWhoLooksLikeTheBadassMuscle?"
"How do you know what the house looks like?"
"Well, most houses aren't built in circles or diamonds. You know, squares and rectangles seems to be the trend for the last thousand years or so. So," He illustrated a big circle, "The other Corporal will do this, run around the house with me, and look in the windows. You two," He pointed with the stick, nearly taking out Billie's eye, "Will wait in the car, so they can be ready to roll. Though, if we scream, then Corporal Muscles has to be on standby to rescue us." Tré stuck the drumstick back under his arm and puffed out his chest. "I love you all. So, go be free until sundown then, we must go into the heart of danger."
Alright, my dear soldiers, let us get to our kick ass hummer jeep and do some shit."
