21 Jump Street (Tom Hanson)

Dum-Dums (Mature) ⚠️

March 1990

At the table, Fuller was telling me about a new drug that was going around Hill Valley High School. There is a new kid named Wilson who has been the prime suspect for bringing these drugs to the school. He said, "Wilson has two priors for aggravated assault and he just got out on parole."

"And he's allowed back in school?" I asked.

"It's some prevention program the school district is trying out," Fuller explained.

"Looks like we've got our work cut out for us," I said to Tom and we both started to stand up from the table.

"No, not you," Fuller said to Tom. We both froze and looked at each other in confusion, then to Fuller.

"What?" Tom asked, sucking on his spoon with a jar of peanut butter in his hand. It was his breakfast. He loves peanut butter.

He pointed to Doug and handed him his folder, "Penhall, you're on this case with Gregg."

Doug laughed, "n'yuk, n'yuk, n'yuk," like Curly from The Three Stooges.

I love working with Tom, don't get me wrong, but I used to work with Doug so much. He has been such a close friend of mine for a long time. I haven't had a one-on-one case with Doug in forever, I was excited to have one with him again.

_________________________

At school, Doug and I were posed as the McQuaids. They're the easiest covers that gets trusted among the drug-dealer community because of their mannerisms, and even the way they dressed. Old faithful.

Call Me by Blondie was playing on the boombox as I looked at my blank canvas in the mirror of the chapel's bathroom. I took my hair out of its bun and fluffed it out. I messed it up by shaking my fingers through my dark roots and scrunching the ends. I dug through my makeup bag and opted for dark eyeshadow and I smudged out my eyeliner for a grunge look.

I decided to stick to the more feminine side of being a McQuaid so I covered my legs with black lace tights, and I laced up some black boots. I slipped on a black skirt, with a slit that exposed the lace tights. My black leather jacket kept me warm, and I put a few layers of black nail polish on my nails. I finished the look by applying a plum lipstick, and grabbing some fake cigarettes that I use to make it look like I'm actually smoking without that risk of lung cancer.

Joan Jett, eat your heart out.

While sitting in English class, Doug and I were discussing under our breath what we should do about getting street-cred at the school. We needed it, and we needed it fast. We found out that there is supposed to be a big deal on campus that night, but we weren't sure exactly where it was supposed to be just yet.

"We need to do something wildly irresponsible to earn everyone's trust," Doug suggested.

"Like what, McQuaid? Throw a party?"

Doug's eyebrows shot up. "That's actually not a bad idea."

"We aren't doing that."

"I was thinking that you should humiliate the teacher," Doug proposed alternatively. He sat behind me, leaning forward at his desk so his face was by my ear.

"Are you insane?" I asked in a harsh whisper, looking towards the blackboard as the teacher was lecturing to the class. He was tall and bald, and looked very intimidating.

"It's the best way."

"Why don't you do it?" I huffed.

"I'm a guy... I already have a leg up here."