The Shenanigans, chapter 1
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Man, my head hurts, I thought as I woke lying on the cold, wet floor under the bridge. Why couldn't we have just gone to the Gilman? Then I'd wake up with a hot chick naked next me, no doubt about it. I looked up to see the delightful sight of a Hit & Run accompanied by a hangover on a rather unpleasant Saturday morning. I checked my watch - 8:30 - right on time. Good. He knows I do not appreciate tardiness. Especially after what happened last time. I won't go into details but what I will say is he must have one hell of a scar. Emotionally and physically. Don't get me wrong though, I like old Hit & Run, we go way back. I've known him since we were kids but a guy has got to do something to get his own way. Why do I speak of him as Hit & Run you ask? Well, it's pretty obvious really. Hit is the guy who is afraid of commitment, so when one of his girls would mention they want to take it to the next 'level', he would drop her off quickly outside her place then hit the gas with no intention of seeing her again. Hit and run. Genius! He had a lot of dirty tricks, but he would never pull on me though; he knew I'd have him for it later.
"What have you got for me today, punk?" I called jogging up to him, "Have you brought me a kiss, sexy?" I loved calling him names like that; it seemed to intimidate him.
"Well, that depends," Hit replied, obviously ignoring my question about my kiss, how rude. "What have you got for me, Jack?" I fiddled into my pocket for the cash and casually slipped it into his hand. He fingered the roll of green while scanning the area, curiously. Even though we met up secretly under the isolated bridge, some punk had already ratted us in. I'm still hunting for the fucker that squealed; I'll teach him a lesson or two.
"How do I know it's not just a twenty wrapped around a couple of ones?" He asked moving closer to me. He's always bloody interrogating me.
"Check it," I insisted. I watched him counting through the cash. He sighed once he realized it was all there, probably wishing one day I will cut it too short and he can't serve me. After handing me the goods, Hit quickly started to hurry off. This made me wonder. I eyed the bundle in my hand up and down.
"Hey! Not so fast there buddy!" I shouted after him as friendly as I could just so he would think I wasn't going to bust his balls, "How can I be so sure this isn't just three pounds talcum powder and just one pound the real stuff?" It was now my turn to hold the interrogation.
"Ah, c'mon J! You know I wouldn't screw you over!" Hit called back. I hated him calling me 'J'. I don't want him to feel I was his friend, even though I was. What I wanted was for him to fear me.
"And besides," I heard him say, "wouldn't want 'The Shenanigans' on my back, again." I just smiled to myself. It seemed like only yesterday people were making 'air quotes' as they said the groups' name. Now our reputation was growing much worse as more people found out who we were, what we did and just how capable we were to kill someone. We first became well known by starting the tradition 'Nuke The Bridge'. One Friday night, we decided to hang out under the bridge. Just sitting on the steps, getting stoned and wasted. Double J got up, completely high, and began to torch the bridge. It went up in flames but would not burn down. From that evening, we vowed to meet up at midnight every Friday and nuke the bridge until the motherfucker was destroyed.
Oh yeah, life was treating me great. I'm so glad I have those guys.
"What have you got for me today, punk?" I called jogging up to him, "Have you brought me a kiss, sexy?" I loved calling him names like that; it seemed to intimidate him.
"Well, that depends," Hit replied, obviously ignoring my question about my kiss, how rude. "What have you got for me, Jack?" I fiddled into my pocket for the cash and casually slipped it into his hand. He fingered the roll of green while scanning the area, curiously. Even though we met up secretly under the isolated bridge, some punk had already ratted us in. I'm still hunting for the fucker that squealed; I'll teach him a lesson or two.
"How do I know it's not just a twenty wrapped around a couple of ones?" He asked moving closer to me. He's always bloody interrogating me.
"Check it," I insisted. I watched him counting through the cash. He sighed once he realized it was all there, probably wishing one day I will cut it too short and he can't serve me. After handing me the goods, Hit quickly started to hurry off. This made me wonder. I eyed the bundle in my hand up and down.
"Hey! Not so fast there buddy!" I shouted after him as friendly as I could just so he would think I wasn't going to bust his balls, "How can I be so sure this isn't just three pounds talcum powder and just one pound the real stuff?" It was now my turn to hold the interrogation.
"Ah, c'mon J! You know I wouldn't screw you over!" Hit called back. I hated him calling me 'J'. I don't want him to feel I was his friend, even though I was. What I wanted was for him to fear me.
"And besides," I heard him say, "wouldn't want 'The Shenanigans' on my back, again." I just smiled to myself. It seemed like only yesterday people were making 'air quotes' as they said the groups' name. Now our reputation was growing much worse as more people found out who we were, what we did and just how capable we were to kill someone. We first became well known by starting the tradition 'Nuke The Bridge'. One Friday night, we decided to hang out under the bridge. Just sitting on the steps, getting stoned and wasted. Double J got up, completely high, and began to torch the bridge. It went up in flames but would not burn down. From that evening, we vowed to meet up at midnight every Friday and nuke the bridge until the motherfucker was destroyed.
Oh yeah, life was treating me great. I'm so glad I have those guys.
