It was a peaceful, if not swelteringly hot, summer day. The neighborhood populace was sweating, those who could sat in air-conditioned rooms with ice-cold glasses of lemonade trying to beat the heat. Or in pools, if they was lucky enough to have one. Even the ankle-deep inflatable kiddie pools would do. Or a sprinkler. Your humble narrator and her neighbors once made due draping a car cover over themselves like a tent and flooding the inside with a garden hose. She doesn't remember how well it actually worked but no one died so it's something to try.
But this isn't about her and the questionable decisions she made at whatever age that took place. This is about a boy, at age 7, and the questionable decisions he makes. Like the decision to stomp down the sidewalk, completely unsupervised, like someone trying to be kidnapped.
He was mildly protected from the intense sunlight by a top hat that kept falling into his face every few steps, making him have to push it back grumpily. But that was really the least of his worries because the coat that he'd stolen from his father's closet (which was trailing onto the concrete behind him and getting full of twigs and leave and such) was surely going to give him heatstroke if he didn't take it off soon. His red t-shirt was sticking to his skin already, and he'd only been outside for like 10 minutes. It also would've helped if he'd put on shorts instead of pants, as well as perhaps sandals instead of the one pair of formal-esque shoes he had. Which he was totally scuffing with his angry steps. A damn shame, those were probably a bit pricey and his father does not have the money to spare after moving them here.
But this little brat couldn't be bothered with any of that. No siree Bob. You know why? Because he had a mission. A mission that required absolutely all of his wit and cleverness. A mission that he'd either complete or die trying! A fate-of-the-world kind of mission! His entire future, nay, the future of the entire human race depended on him completing his mission! And, today, he would finally do it.
He walked up to the front porch of his next door neighbors house and rang the doorbell.
No answer.
Aha! Can't fool him twice! They'd done this before, and it admittedly had worked once, but just the once! Both of their cars were right in the driveway, so they were definitely home! He rung it again. And again. And again and again and again and again. And then he started ringing it to the beat of Friends on the Other Side, humming "I got voodoo, I got hoodoo, I got things I ain't even tried. And I got friends on the other side."
It was one of his favorite songs, you see. His dad could literally just play it nonstop on long car trips and the kid would sing until he tuckered himself out. It was what he'd done when they'd moved here.
He stopped ringing for a moment and pressed his ear to the door. The motion bumped the brim of his top hat, but he caught it before it could fall to the ground. He held it tight and shoved it back on his head, at an angle so it didn't fall off again.
"Do you think he's gone?" One whispered.
"I'M NOT!" He kicked the door with all his 7-year-old strength. AHAHahahahahahaAHHAHA! It sounded like he got one! Now they had to open the door!
They regretfully creaked the door open to reveal themselves, a brown-haired man and a red-headed lady, looking down cautiously at the little monster on their porch. Clutching a giant floppy top hat to his head, his unkempt black hair managing to reach the far edges of the drooping brim, coat slipping off his tiny shoulders and nearly falling completely to the floor, a wild snaggle-toothed grin showing off what was going to be costing his dad a small fortune to rectify, all dripping sweat and filth.
"Can Kenny come out and play?" He gleefully asked for about the eleventy-millionth time.
"Absolutely not!" The man said, with obvious Oh God he knows his name terror on his face.
Before the door could be shut in his face again, the boy stuck his leg through the doorway. Ha! Now they couldn't slam the door, or they'd break his leg and he'd sue them! Well, technically his dad would be the one to do that, but, semantics. They were still blocking his path, but he'd reason with them and totally worm his way inside!
"I just want to return a toy!"
"You've never borrowed one!" The red-headed lady refuted.
"I want to return one I stole!"
"You've never been in our house!"
"That you know!"
"Oh Jesus, has he been in our house?"
"No, no he hasn't. He'd set off the security alarm." Aha! So there was a security system! He'd have to learn the password to disarm it and he'd be able to get in and out without them ever knowing!
He feigned innocence. And pretended like he really had broken in before. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry, and to give Kenny back his toy."
"Ok, what toy?" The brown-haired man challenged.
"Uhhhhh…" The boy fished around in his small pockets. All he could come up with were some a few quarters, a pair of scissors, a black marker, and a ring. Well, he did get it from a cereal box. "This hypno ring," He presented, waving it back and forth slightly with little oooohs and aaaaaahs to show off the moving spiral in the middle.
The man plucked it out of his hand disdainfully, acting like it would give him ebola or something. He also looked like he seriously doubted that this had ever belonged to his kid. "Well, now you've returned it, so goodbye!"
Before he could shut the door on him again he screamed out, "I'm a friend from school!"
"Our Kenny is homeschooled!"
"...I go here!"
"No, you do not!"
"Yes I do and I'm late for class! Let me in!"
"Don't you have friends whose parents you can bother instead?!"
"Does Kenny!?"
"What?" The red-headed lady asked incredulously.
"Does Kenny have friends?!" The tiny lunatic demanded. "Do you ever let him go out and play with anyone else ever?!"
Well, that got a reaction. The two grown-ups looked at each other like they'd gotten caught stealing the cookie dough from the freezer. Good, good! Here was his chance!
"Aha!" He pointed at them accusingly like a lawyer. "You don't! You're keeping Kenny from making friends and having a life! You're bad parents!"
"Now see here you little-" The man cut himself off, probably not wishing to swear at a literal child for acting exceptionally childish. Because what would that accomplish? He took a deep breath, trying not to strangle the pint-sized gremlin. "Where are your parents?"
"At work." He lied.
"You're lying."
"Am not!"
"Where do you live?"
"Far."
"You moved in next door, didn't you?" The red-haired lady pointed to the spoopy gray place he now lived.
"...nooooooooooooooooooooo..."
She sighed and took him by the arm. "It's high time we put an end to this."
The man grabbed his other arm. "You're right."
"Hey! Wait for a second!" He protested as he was dragged off the porch and to his own home. "Hold on! No No Noooo!" He fought to free his arms, which did not work since he was a grimy little 7-year-old and they were two thirty-something-year-olds pulling him down the street prisoner-style. "I just wanted to make friends!" He screamed, adding in some sobs to really lay it on thick.
They continued dragging him up the small steps to his own front door and knocked twice. Blast it! He thought he'd be able to sneak off without being noticed. His brilliant plan was failing!
The door was answered by the boy's father, who took one look at the adults on his porch holding his screaming, thrashing son by the arms, and casually asked, "Are you the ones whose garden he keeps stealing from? Because I am sorry about that and I'm in the process of planting one in the hopes he'll stop."
The parents eyed each other like We aren't the only ones he harasses? Before the man said "Uh, no, we're your next door neighbors. Your son-"
"Was just trying to make friends!" He wailed. "They have a kid, but he never comes outside and I wanted to be his friend!"
His father gave him an odd, kind of sad look. He turned his gaze back to the neighbors. "You can go ahead and let him go, I got him."
They reluctantly unleashed the little cretin, who ran to his father and latched onto his pant leg. He stuck his tongue out and made nyah nyah noises. His father picked him up, much to his annoyance, scrunching his face up to show it. He wasn't a baby anymore damn it!
"Stop that, B.H. Would you like to come in?" He asked Kenny's parents.
"Do you think Kenny will be alright alone?" The lady asked the man.
"We'll just be a minute. He has Fives with him." Fives? Who was Fives? And how dare his dad invite people into HIS house!
"You're fired." B.H. hissed at his father.
"Fired from what? Being your dad?"
"Yes."
"Then I guess I don't have to make you that grilled cheese sandwich for lunch, do I?" B.H. pouted, crossing his arms and looking away. "And I guess I don't have to stick the straw into your juice box anymore either, huh?" He was grinning as he led the neighbors into their messy house.
"DAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAAaaaad! Don't say that in front of people!"
"Say what? That you're my little overlord? My tiny Napoleon? Am I embarrassing you?" Ewwww he was hugging him! And showering him with paternal affection! Disgusting! "Is this my jacket?"
Uh oh.
B.H. wormed his way out of his father's arms (a.k.a. His dad put him down so he wouldn't hurt himself) and bolted up the stairs. The coat flapping behind him like a cape. He perched near the top, out of sight but close enough that he could hear what was going on. He heard his dad lead the two of them to the kitchen, offer them something to drink, and it wasn't long until the conversation got boring. Just so much "he's going through a tough time right now", "he hasn't been able to get along with the other kids", "couldn't we set up a supervised playdate or something?" At least his dad was kind of on his side. But it didn't sound like Kenny's parents were going to go for it. They just kept going on and on about how Kenny was "delicate", and "you need to keep a better eye on your son!" and "ooh what pretty flowers". Yeah, and guess who stole them? HIM! Fresh from the flower pots across the street!
He sulked into his room, with it's big window facing their house. Kenny had a window facing back at him, that's how he knew him. He couldn't see him, he wasn't in his room right now. They wrote signs back and forth to each other, sometimes Kenny would use words B.H. didn't know. Like "vitiligo", which he said made him look so funny. Other things just sounded silly, like when he called his hair color "strawberry blonde". It sounded like a milkshake. Kenny seemed to read a lot, but B.H. could see he had lots of toys and stuff too.
B.H. was determined to get to him. Today! He'd already made up him mind that he would! It was his mission! He'd stood at this same window and declared, with one hand pointed up in the air like a TV star, "I want that one!"
He was all alone over there.
Because his parents were over here.
And...not guarding the door...
B.H. had an idea then.