"Not good," *The third day of, what the residents have named, 'The War of The Condoms', continues with no visible resolution in sight* "Definitely not good.".
3 days ago
"What the bloody living unholy hell did I just go through?" you may think that after my crosswalk fights, this would seem tame by comparison. But the issue is, this is something I caused. It's not something that by accident, coincidence or otherwise happened. I directly caused this. "The feeling of responsibility starts to weigh in on my shoulders," now that I'm home, it's easier to let these thoughts consume me. "Maybe this is the equivalent exchange," have a great day at work, ensue war on your way back. "No, no," I have to have faith in the punk that he will not pursue this any further, "especially after the old man almost killed him.".
Okay, I calmed down. The more I think about it, the more likely it's that the punk either called the police, or moved to some other skatepark. "Afterall, who would return to the place where they almost got murdered," I certainly wouldn't. "That threat of his 'friend' having more stuff," which I guess would be more used condoms, "kind of lingers in my mind.". But then again, the fear of death must've brought some awareness to that young fool.
2 days ago - the following morning
*Dozens of used condoms have been seen in the Wt. Saintpark. Dozens more have been found in the front yards of the elderly, just across the street from the park. It is unknown who was compelled to do such a prank. But authorities warn that whoever passes through-*
"It was dumb of me to rely on the punk.". It's not like I could've done something about it. As far as I'm concerned, my life was in danger, so why did the punk return if he felt even in the slightest threatened? "Maybe he didn't feel threatened," there's some missing piece in here. Should I even bother myself further though? I could simply take another road and be done with it. Then again, I kind of started it.
*Bzz bzz bzz* my phone...the boss. Ughh, not the best moment. "Yes, hell-"
"Christian!!" Maybe screaming at me is what his species does to assert dominance. "Have you looked at the news, you excuse of a human being?!" He sounds real mad, as if I did something wrong. But as far as I'm concerned, the news doesn't say anything about me, the punk or the old man.
"Yes sir, I was just wa-" he cuts me off as per usual.
"You see that park, you cretin?!" must he insult me at every step?
"It's where my son goes skating," I wonder if his son is as obnoxious as he is. "Now there is no way in bloody hell I'm allowing him to skate there!" sounds about right, but why should that concern me? "My son is really upset about it, but I'm too busy to find a new park, and my precious soldier only loves that one!" Indeed an issue for a spoiled brat like his own.
"I see sir. But what does that have to do-" and he starts screaming.
"Christian!!!" Shit, I think he might've broken my phone's microphone, although it's on the lowest. "It means someone else has to do it," oh, I see where this is going. "By that, it means you, useless piece of-" my mind simply censors some of his words. I'm pretty sure his way of speech should be considered a crime in some parts. "So go out there, find whoever does this, and bring them to me!" This is not good though. Not only did I start it, but these other two can incriminate me, given that they both know my face, especially the old man. I'll try to reason my way out of it.
"Sir, what about my pa-".
"Double for a month you monkey!" say less. Reason will have nothing between me and a double paycheck this month. Two off days and one that basically felt like a day off? Heaven has too much mercy on me.
"I'm on it sir," *beep* my resolution grows stronger, the incentive of money, high enough. "Now, time to settle a war.".
32 minutes later
*Sniff* "Many victims today," the count may be in the billions. There are still people passing by this area, although they wear those masks and step carefully. "Thirty metres away from it should give me clear enough vision," let's now assess the situation. The front yards, and skatepark, have been cleaned of the condoms, though, the faint trail on the grass, leads me to believe they've been 'collected' by some of the old folk. "It can't be, can it?" I never considered the possibility of the old man having allies. I underestimated him once, and won't do it twice.
"Yo!" that jumped me, "are you here to help?". That's the punk. He carries a backpack with him today, seems quite filled, and a gas mask. I would've liked to look around a bit more before engaging with either, but perhaps this could be solved easier.
"Listen, um..." I stretch for a name.
"Penk. Penk Bos," peculiar name. I feel like I heard of it before.
"Listen Penk. You should stop this before it escalates any further," I will try reason first, then the threats will ensue. I'm willing to go as far as to show off my powers and scare him to death.
"Ain't no way big bro," big bro? "The old fossil over there has access to a sperm donation bank," that explains some stuff. "Why should I bend the knee to some out of touch fool?". Good point, still though.
I guess there is no point in trying to reason with him. He's set on doing more damage, and given the quantity of sperm he must have in that backpack, I bet he's not willing to return it to whomever provided it. "Look, I didn't want to get to this point, but you're giving me no choice," I can see him frowning, even if he doesn't know what's about to happen, I bet he's at least expecting something. "My boss sent me to-"
"Oh, my pa sent you to help me deal with this?" say what now? Something is not alright, I can feel it in the air. Still, I should pressure further.
"I don't know who your dad is. I'm here because my boss, the CEO of-" he cut me in a reminiscent way of someone else.
"Of TALK-inc right?" I see what is happening. All the good that has been happening to me, is turning around in full force. It all adds up. I just wrongly assumed that his son might be younger, given that boss likes his women 'nice and supple'. I now have to wonder how his wife looks at- focus.
"Yes, but that doesn't mean-" he's his son alright.
"He told me he paid you double to deal with it. So, deal with it," his calm tone makes it, somehow, even more frightening. This is complicated beyond belief. If I don't help the boss' son, he will report on-wait a minute actually.
"He paid me double, yes. But does he know what you're doing?". The question seems to have caught him by the throat. "So, how about you end it here and we can bot-" of course, he's the boss' son after all.
"I will not budge! Not until the dehydrated prune admits that he was wrong," his pride is a bit too much to handle. "And if you try to stop me, I will tell pa that you're the one who started all this so you can get paid double!". How dare you?! And thing is, boss will absolutely believe his insolent child over me, not stopping for a second to think. "So, now move out of my way, and I better not see you around the skatepark," I'm not even in your way, asshole.
I put my hand on his shoulder as he is passing by me "Are you sure you want to do this? There is no turning back once it spirals out of control," I warn him.
He brushes my hand off, turns with a frown and eyes that have seen too much "It's already too-" *splat* a clean shot to his abdomen. Penk started falling to his knees, the world was moving in slow motion, as I turned around to see where the projectile came from, there he stood. The old man, with a large smile on his face, a modified crossbow in both his hands and a bunch of old folk cheering for him. As the present started to move back to its speed, the smell was what hit me first. Pungent, strong, a bit of the cold substance touched my ankle. Looking back at Penk, his clothes were covered in the white life juice. His expression as the juice dripped off his clothes, truly mortified.
"Penk, listen, there is no-" he didn't need to interrupt me. I stood frozen in place, the air around him, besides the pungent smell, had the aroma of death. He wanted to kill the old man, with his own weapon. *Phwwwwwhht* he whistled, and from where he came, a bunch of punks showed up, all wearing filled backpacks and gas masks with them.
"I didn't want to bring them out, but this doesn't end until...I have your bloody head drowned in a condom!!" the scream was pretty much that of boss, while the threat, something you don't want in the history books.
One by one, they equipped the gas masks as they started to rush towards the park, for cover. Then, placing themselves inside one of the skate holes, they started using slings, on which they attached small condoms with fluid in them, to launch the attack on the houses of the old folk. In plain daylight, the punks were slinging half filled, small condoms, and the old people were using high accuracy crossbows with medium sized, half filled condoms to retaliate. People were running away, afraid of the liquid. I simply stood there, wondered "Where did it all go wrong," the sirens of the police, approaching the ongoing battlefield.
