Chapter 2: Chapter 2
There were four of them. One girl and three boys. They were all dressed in black. ”What am I thinking? Black is not a good color for me. I need to change my wardrobe.” He walked over to the group and said, "Excuse me, can I borrow your phone?” “I need to call my dad."
The guy looked at him and said, "Are you serious?"
"Yeah, I need to talk to em. About what? You know what. The usual.” The man was hesitant, but gave Dump his phone anyway. Dump called his father and said, “Hey dad. How was your day? What did you? All that jazz. I was wondering if you were going to call me this weekend.” Stupidity was contagious. Just ask Mommy Dearest or Grandma Hazelnutt. Both of whom went through stages where they believed everything everyone else said without question. Mommy Dearest believed that everyone was out to get her and that the world was run by a bunch of scheming, conniving people. She never asked questions; she assumed everything about everybody because nobody ever told her otherwise. Her son might as well assume that those people were really teenagers who were up to no good as well. After all, they looked like teenagers. Teenagers did stupid things. Like steal bikes and run around with knives and get into fights over nothing. It was what they did. It was what their parents and society made them do.
“I’ve gotta go dad, see you later.”
Dump turned off the phone and went over to confront the group, since he thought that they were up to no good. He went up towards the man whom he had borrowed the phone from, and said something unintelligible to him. Something along the lines of: “Go tell your friends that there will be an increased police presence downtown tonight.” He threw the phone into the air and caught it as it fell. He did this several times until the man broke into tears and ran off. The other two were nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly, a blow came from behind as the second man grabbed the phone from Dump. This wasn’t right. Not according to plan. Where were the others? Why hadn’t anyone come forward yet? “This is my phone. I need it back.” The man with the phone looked scared. Scared of what? Being caught? That was what teenagers did. They were scared of everything. Even the things that were fake.Their lives weren’t real so why should anything they did have any meaning? Why bother trying hard in school? Who cared about being smart? Everything was a lie. The way we were raised, the way we lived our lives, the way we talked about each other behind their backs. It was all a big, stinking, steaming pile of crap. And we ate it up. Ronald jumped back to reality, and asked the man, “who are you?”. Suddenly, the man peeled off his shirt to reveal a suit and tie with smiley-faced emojis. “Hello Ronald”, the man said. “My name is Jefferauld the Broker, and I’m here to kill you”!