"A Stupid Tale" by Hanna B

We rode our rickety bikes through our town of peasants like warriors, passing the faded, white picket fences with rusty tin cans perched to the side of each one. Some of them were dented and banged up. That might have been our doing, but then again I can’t really remember.  The night was being blanketed across the open sky, but slow enough so that we can have a once around the streets and finish what we originally came out to do, before it was time to go back to our wonderful families, our wonderful houses, and wonderful lives.

This evening, the boys and I were on a quest, a quest filled with dangerous outcomes, yet a quest of meaning. There was no damsel, no monsters, no treasure, just the satisfaction the four of us would receive from completing it.

What exactly was our quest you may ask? Well, let’s just say that we were seeking retribution for our dignity that was wrongfully taken from us. We waited long enough so that the wrongdoers had enough time to bask in the satisfaction and let it sink into their blood like venom from a viper. And now, it was time that we ripped it right from their bodies and took it right back.

We pulled up to one of the few yuppie looking houses that were in the neighborhood, the ones that had a nice lawn, fancy foliage, etcetera, etcetera, and positioned ourselves around the front of it. We pulled out our weapons that were concealed with carton from our bags. A dozen shots each. Forty-eight in total. The barrage of yolk only lasted for a minute, and in that minute the windows and door were covered with part of our revenge.

Oh yes, it wasn’t over yet. We took to our bikes and grabbed the garbage cans that were sitting at the curb. The contents were strewn about the street like confetti during a birthday and we were hooting and hollering while we were doing it. And it didn’t stop there. We took it upon ourselves, as our civil duty to recycle the neighbors’ trash onto the front lawn. Whoever said we didn’t care about the environment was clearly mistaken.

The sun was almost long gone and stars were beginning to poke out of the sky like drops of paint. It was about time for the four of us to start heading back. The boys and I separated at the main street and went our separate ways home, and by that time the moon had taken place on its throne in the sky.

My house was only a block more away. Oh sweet asylum. Mom and dad were probably already asleep, which made it easier to sneak in. I turned the corner and as I rode up, patriotic lights flashed upon my house.

Damn.

                  Just ride past.

I never lived here.  

Sadly, luck didn’t fancy the idea of tag teaming with me. I knew I was done for when I heard a ‘That’s him on the bike officer.’