GRAFFITI

TCWG entry for December 2013 – A Story in Under 500 words

 

If only he hadn’t graffitied the bike! He just happened to pass with a green spray can in his hand, it was dark, he needed practice for the bridge competition Friday. Trust the sodding cops to leap out from under the sodding bridge – why aren’t they off catching rich bankers who screw the system or that vicious hag in the corner shop who marches him out by the ear when he tries to nick fags?

His ears reddened as he wondered what Loafer would say. He’d warned them in his cool, hard style, if they ever got caught they were out. Shit! How would he get out of this one….maybe Hong Kong would help him. Nah, he was ambitious, not like the rest of them. Didn’t even eat burgers or take aways– tosser. But he could make a wall sing, there was nobody to touch him. The ranking system was Loafer first, Hong Kong, himself, then Shreddies.  Not after the cereal, but because he shat himself when anyone got within 50 yards of them.

It had to be Hong Kong, he’d know how to get out of going down the police station with Mum in the morning.  Mum! She was out there now, screaming at Dakota for buying botox online.

“9 o’clock sharp” the constable had said “and both of you bring ID’s. The owner of the bike will be here – we’ve got great pictures of you in his driveway from his CCTV, riding off all confident into the night. You, matey, will be facing the music.”

He pulls the sheet over his head to block it all out, but now he can hear his heart thudding – disgusting! He springs up, grabs his mobile.

“Hong Kong… meet me now, its urgent.”

“No, grandmother here. No chance, Zak.”

“Jeez, I’m in deep shit. If you don’t, we all will be tomorrow.”

Hesitation, then Hong Kong says

“Hokay, corner in 5 minutes, I stay 3.”

Zak’s dressed, out the window, before he even has another thought.

“Jeez, hurry up, Kong” and suddenly Hong Kong’s there.

“What, Zak?”

 He pours it out. Vandalism, caught in the act, underage, could be looking at borstal. He’s sweating, though its November and icy.

Hong Kong thinks.

“ Buy bike.”

“What?”

“Buy bike, say sorry to owner. You got bike nobody want – everyone happy.”

 Zak sweats some more.  “I’ve got no money.”

“Ah, say sorry and still buy, but work for owner. Reasonable solution, police happy, mother so-so. Ah, no good, owner has no bike. Ah, offer paint bike one colour owner want, and sorry, sorry, respect.”

Zak sags.

“Mum’ll knock shit out of me!”

“You always full shit man, that’s why like you. Do it, we got bridge competition Friday night.  Clear up shit now.”

Back through his window Zak goes. Orientals have got –  what is it? – wisdom. Yeah.

“Cheers, Hong Kong.”

He shakes a bit, dreading the morning. School, detention, police station, and …….Mum.

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