Realistic Fiction

Desperate Times: Chapter 2

“Hey…hey…guess what?” “I am literally going to harm you,” said Jack. “I ate two pieces of string cheese, and they came out tied together; I shit you knot.” Jack grabbed the heaviest textbook in reach and smacked it on Hunter’s leg. “Damn you and your puns!” Said Jack. “…SHIT YOU KNOT…,” Hunter continued “oh, I hate myself.”

Ellie grabbed the last slice of pizza and continued studying the layout of house number two. “So how the hell do you know no one is going to be home?” asked Ellie. “Like I said, he’s an idiot, he doesn’t exactly keep private things quiet. His stepmom and dad are scheduled to take their annual trip to the Caribbean early next month; and he always tags along” said Hunter “This is going to work.”

The blueprint for the house was spread across the table, held by an unmatched shoe and a coffee stain that stuck it to the surface. The print showed the main entry points to the house, including deck doors, windows, and dog doors. Hunter recalled the last time he tried to fit through the Corgi size dog door, with not the best of luck. “Yeah, I don’t know about that” he said. “I think our best shot is the deck doors on the second floor.” “Dude, we don’t have a ladder, we need something more practical; plus don’t you think the neighbors might see us?” asked Ellie. “There is a hot tub sitting right under the deck. One of us can hop on the cover, and pull ourselves up over the deck balcony. Those doors are never locked, and they lead straight to the office” recalled Jack.

The office of the first house was where Chris’s father kept not only the entire line of apple products, but also the safe. The contents of that room they knew were worth well over twenty thousand dollars, enough to take care of their tuition bills for the rest of the semester. “All we have to do is get the computers to the car and the safe opened” said Hunter. “…and how the dicks are we going to get the safe open?” asked Jack. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it” answered Ellie “we’re college students, we don’t plan, and somehow things always workout.”

After fourteen consecutive hours in a dorm room, gathered around two-dimensional drawings of a house, a rough schematic was born. Four large pizza boxes were stacked in the corner, and the three friends were spread across the floor with twitching eyes, praying that this heist would be enough to get them through the rest of the semester. “Chris, Jeffrey, Carey, Megan…Chris, Jeffrey, Carey, Megan,” muttered Hunter drifting to sleep. “Bro, you need to take a break from game of thrones,” said Jack, “we’ll figure out the rest of the plan in the morning.”


Desperate Times: Chapter 3

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