TCPS Tales

To TP or Not to TP?

“Dude, this stuff is nice,” Finn said. He rubbed the roll of toilet paper against his cheek. “Where did you get it? My mom buys the crappy kind that falls apart as soon as it gets wet.”

“What kind of turd are you turning out?” Talon asked. His fingers dipped into the container of black face paint. He wiped it across his forehead and down his nose covering his exposed skin.

Mitch guffawed from the back seat of Talon’s truck. “You don’t want to know.” He blended into the background, his black clothes and painted face concealing him from prying eyes.

Finn rubbed it again. “Make fun of me all you want but you don’t know torture until you’re stuck on the crapper with a handful of holey paper.”

Talon shook his head. “Will you put that thing down? You can moon over it later. We have a job to do.” He read the text message that popped up on his phone. “Kevin and the rest of the guys are in place.”

Smirking, Finn looked at the multiple bags of toilet paper sitting on the floor. “I can’t wait to see Brewer’s reaction. He’s gonna be pissed.”

Talon smirked. Not only had they bought fifty rolls of toilet paper, but they’d punched a couple of holes in each roll and dropped several drops of food coloring in them, staining the paper green and yellow. Zach was in for a major Halloween trick. 

“Alright, you guys know the drill,” Talon said, turning to his two best friends. “No talking once we get out of this car. Kevin and the others are keeping watch nearby. They’ll whistle once if someone is passing by, twice if we’re about to get caught. If you hear the second, split up and run away as fast as you can.”

They each grabbed a bag and hopped out of the truck. Crouching low to the ground, they scrambled down the street.

Finn got to the house first. He snuck up the Brewer’s driveway and looked into one of the windows. Motioning the all-clear sign, Talon and Mitch started pulling out rolls and tossing them over trees and bushes. 

They TPed everything in sight. From the lawn to the trashcan to the car parked in the driveway. Nothing was safe. Finn even busted out green and yellow chalk and started drawing on the walkway leading up to the door.

Suddenly, two sharp whistles broke the silence as a light on the second floor of the house popped on.  Talon stopped in his tracks, his last roll of toilet paper halfway wound around the garden hose.

“Run for it!” Finn whispered harshly, ditching his bag and chalk. He scrambled down the sidewalk and ran out of sight.

Talon was about to do the same when he noticed Mitch, over by the rose bushes, wasn’t moving. “Come on,” he whispered, motioning for him to hurry.

Mitch thrashed around for a few moments before shaking his head and throwing up his arms. “I can’t!”

Talon rushed over. “What’s wrong?”

“My shoe laces…” Mitch struggled to break free, pulling and pulling. “I can’t move!”

“Forget about your damn shoe. Take it off and let’s go,” he ordered.

“I can’t! It has my name on it.”

Afraid he heard wrong, Talon rubbed his ear. “Say that again.”

“My name’s written on it,” Mitch said through gritted teeth.

“Why the hell do you have your name on your shoe?”

“My sister likes to practice her handwriting.”

“And you let her do it on your clothes?” he asked in disbelief.

“You don’t have a little sister so don’t judge me!” Mitch barked.

A downstairs light turned on and Talon’s eyes widened. If they were caught they would get into serious trouble.

“Just go,” Mitch said, already resigned to his fate.

“No! I won’t leave you behind.” Talon knelt down and thrust his hand into the rose bush. Ignoring the stinging sensation as the thorns scraped his skin, he found the branch that was tangled with Mitch’s shoelaces. Quickly, Talon unknotted the cords and pulled them free.

The porch light came on and a moment later the front door opened.

“Crap,” Talon muttered. He knew they were seconds away from being caught. He looked around wildly, trying to find a good place to hide. That’s when he saw a small hiding space near the corner of the house, but it was only big enough for one of them. Making a split second decision, he pointed to the spot and ordered, “Go hide in there.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” Talon lied. He knew Mitch was already on poor standing with his parents. He couldn’t afford to get in any more trouble. “Go.”

Mitch dove out of sight just as a man stepped out onto the lawn. He loomed over Talon, his arms crossed, his expression hard. “What do we have here?”

“Umm…” Talon tried to come up with an excuse, but he was tongue-tied.

The man, who he assumed was Zach’s father, looked at his yard. After taking it all in, he turned back to Talon and raised an eyebrow. “I’m assuming you’re from Crosswell. Is that right?”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

“What’s your name, boy?”

Knowing he couldn’t get out of this, he lifted his chin and said, “JT.”

Mr. Brewer’s eyes lit in recognition. “I see. Well Mr. Harrington, how about we go inside and call your parents. I’m sure they’ll be interested in knowing what you’ve been up to.” He motioned for Talon to walk ahead of him.

Talon marched silently inside the house. It could be worse, he could call—

“I think we’ll give your coach a ring as well.”

Damn it. It just got worse.