Part One: The calm before the storm...
The best gifts are the ones that last forever.
Nathan chewed on his somewhat stale fortune cookie while he read the little slip of white paper for the second time.
"The best gifts are the ones that don't involve doing two hundred hours of fucking community service." he said out loud. The mousy-looking kid sitting in front of him on the bus turned around, surprised and offended by Nathan's swearing.
Simon something. Simple Simon more like it, Nathan thought, judging from the goofy-ass expression on the kid's face. Nathan held up the piece of paper in his hand.
"Just reading my fortune, Buddy. I have yours here, too. It says," he looked down at the paper, "you will never get laid without the use of your credit card number." Nathan feigned shock. Simon quickly turned back around in his seat.
They were all trapped on the bus together, Simon and him, along with a few others, being shipped off into the deep country to clean up some old, long forgotten campground that the city was planning on opening up at the start of Summer. Long hours of boring yard work and the horrible orange jumpsuits that they'd all have to wear was their punishment for breaking the law and humiliating their respective parent figures. If being able to embarrass his idiot step dad Barry was even possible anymore. By the time they finished with the campground, his service would be done and he could get on with living his life. He'd have the police out of his hair, Barry off of his back, and hopefully would never have to see anyone from the FBI ever again.
Still, it could have been worse. He could have gone to prison. When he broke into the arcade in the middle of the night, he made sure that he wrecked every machine, spray painted crude penises all over the walls, and even took a healthy shit on the front counter, right next to Barry's Employee of the Month photograph. He gave the picture a tiny Dirty Sanchez for good measure. He was fairly sure that Barry was still yelling for his blood on that one. When he snuck out of the building later, he saw someone putting a body in trunk of their car. Nathan wasn't seen, but he got picked up by a patrol car when he dashed around to the front of the building. The FBI was talking to him an hour later.
Help us Nathan, and we'll help you.
He could still smell the rank cigarette smoke wafting off the fed talking deals to him, two weeks ago.
All that damage you caused, the breaking and entering, plus all your prior's, however petty, and you're looking at least three to five years. If you behave well. And you don't strike me as someone who behaves well at all. And let's not forget about Ferrow.
No. Let's forget about him.
Yesterday morning his mom showed him the newspaper and he heard about it later on T.V. Martin Ferrow, aka Mister Cinder, was killed by another inmate while standing in line for breakfast. One tabloid said that he had scrambled eggs on his tray when he was stabbed to death.
Jesus, Nathan thought, scrambled eggs for a last meal. That sounds fucking awful.
The State was planning on executing Ferrow anyway for nineteen counts of first-degree murder, now they'd have to settle for some junkie putting a homemade shiv in the back of his head.
Nathan didn't want to think about people getting stabbed, or seeing psychos stashing dead bodies, or the shitty community service he got in exchange for his help in the authorities catching a wanted serial killer. He wanted to think about learning to play poker so he could win big goes to Las Vegas next year with his fake ID. He wanted to think about his twenty-first birthday the year after that when he was going to make it his mission to get black out drunk and get laid until he went into a coma. He wanted to think about something positive and uplifting to occupy his thoughts.
He looked over at the brunette sitting across the aisle from him. Kelly. Of everyone on the bus, she was the only one he knew and that was only from passing by her in the halls of high school last year. Hand-me-down clothes, shoes looking like they were going to fall apart any second, and a make-up job that looked one step above a Halloween clown kit. On the upside, she liked low-cut tops and lacy bras from what Nathan could see from where he was sitting. From the looks of it, she appeared to be quite cold. Or excited, he wasn't sure. It was an uplifting thought.
That's when he noticed she was starring at him, a sneer on her lips.
"Um, excuse me, what the hell are you looking at?"
Nathan flashed her his most charming smile.
"Just trying to figure out how the Grand Canyon moved from Arizona to relocate on your chest. You ever lose change or food in that crack of yours?" He motioned to her cleavage.
"Pig." she yelled. A few others on the bus turn to look at them. She stood up and moved to a seat several rows back. He watched her walk away. If the rumors he'd heard about her were true, then the cheeks of her ass had more brains than in her head.
He pulled his headphones out and put on some punk music. Sitting back in his seat, he gazed out the window. Nothing but trees along the side of the road as the bus sped by. He looked at his fortune again, still crumpled in his hand, as the music started.
The best gifts are the ones that last forever.
And what lasts forever? he thought, and tossed the little piece of paper out the open window, smiling.
The fortune was carried away on the wind and the bus moved on.
It was a beautiful day and not a cloud in the sky.