This was originally in chapter 35, but it was because I forgot to split it when I uploaded to fanfiction! Ooops! Oh, well, have a double update from yesterday :)
That was it! Tybalt thought to himself, buckling up his black jeans. Normally, Tybalt wouldn't wear black jeans, but he didn't want to be noticed. He turned to the mirror, and fixed on a balaclava. It felt hot and stuffy, but it would be worth it for the trouble he was about to cause.
He left Rosaline sleeping, and snuck out their house and into his car. In the boot of his car were two cans of petrol, and in Tybalt's pocket was a lighter. On the front seat next to him were two boxes of month old rotten eggs and a bag of lettuce that Tybalt had salvaged from the fridge. In the back seat was a massive box of plastic forks, a life sized cardboard cut out of Edward Cullen stolen from outside a cinema, a bumper packet of toilet paper, several rolls of brown wrapping paper, a marker pen and sellotape. Tybalt growled in anticipation of his hate campaign as he started the car. Silently, he drove through campus to outside of Berowne, Ferdinand, Dumain and Longaville's house. He grabbed the boxes of rotten eggs, climbed out the car, and fired them at every damn window he could see.
Then he got back in the car and drove back to Verona. Verona was about an hour away, but Tybalt didn't care. As it was night and the roads were empty, it took him half an hour anyway. He parked in the road next to Denlin Avenue, grabbed the brown wrapping paper, marker pen, sellotape, lettuce, Edward Cullen and snuck along to number 20.
Benvolio's house.
Benvolio's dad's car sat waiting for him in the driveway. Tybalt pulled out the wrapping paper, and unravelled the first roll. He wrapped this around the bonnet, and tore off some sellotape with his teeth to stick into place. Tybalt kept going, until he was out of paper and the car was completely covered. Then he dumped the bag of lettuce on top, grabbed the marker pen out of his pocket and drew on a smiley jack o' lantern face. He stepped back, admiring his handiwork and laughing, before scaling over the fence to Beatrix's window. He moved a dustbin to under her window, clamoured up with the sellotape in his teeth and Edward Cullen resting against the wall. Wobbling, he slowly stood up and grabbed Edward Cullen. He propped Edward against her window, and bit off some tape to stick him in place. When Edward Cullen was securely in place, Tybalt clamoured back down. He stood back again, admiring his handiwork, before heading off to the Montague Ranch. Tybalt had heard that Romeo was having a party, and what party wouldn't be complete with toilet roll absolutely everywhere?
It took Tybalt five minutes to cover the cameras. He had parked his car out of sight. And since Tybalt was now 'friends' with Lord and Lady Montague, he knew the code to get into the house. Tybalt ran frantically through the garden, tossing loo roll absolutely everywhere. The garden was completely covered when Tybalt got back into his car, ready for the next prank.
He parked outside his father-in-law's house, and headed over to the front lawn with the box of plastic forks. He pulled them out and stuck them into the grass, in no particular order. Just as long as the garden was covered, and neither Angelo or Gabriel could get out without poking themselves. When he had finished that, he stood back with his hands on his hips, smirking. He headed back to his car, ready to prepare for his best and final prank.
Mercutio's dad's house. This one was going to be beautiful. Tybalt was still seething with rage about the sari and the Trick or Treat thing earlier that evening. He unloaded the petrol, and he already had the lighter in his pocket. Tybalt made sure where he was going to do it was in full view of the neighbourhood. He unscrewed the lid, and poured petrol over the grass in the desired word. Then he pulled out his lighter, and stood as far back as he could go. He flicked the lighter, and the petrol was ablaze. Tybalt leapt back, feeling his hand sting with the heat.
Finally, Tybalt beamed at his handiwork, as a blazing word glared out.
DRUNK.
When the fire went out, DRUNK would be permanently burnt into the grass. And even if Christopher could be bothered to haul his fat lazy arse off the sofa to tend to his yard, which Tybalt knew he wouldn't, the fresh grass would still say DRUNK because it would be a different colour and a different height because it was young.
And it would be so much funnier, because if Christopher wouldn't tend his lawn, then guess who left that to do it. The only person who was left in this world who cared about him. Well, kind of. Mercutio would. The thought just cracked Tybalt up.
After his night of pranks was over, Tybalt climbed into his car, and started to drive back to campus. He'd had his night of pranks planned long before, but Mercutio and his goddamn sari had truly put the nail in the coffin.