Chapter 3
Troublesome Hooligans
Saved by the pizza.
Elmer never thought he'd ever be uttering a phrase like that in his life, but there was always a first time for everything.
Thankfully Brick's hunger was strong enough to overpower his blatant thirst for sadism when the food finally arrived, allowing him to free poor Elmer from his painful headlock. The boy immediately started rubbing the top of his sore head once the Rowdyruff leader finally released, and he couldn't be more thankful that he never had to find out if a noogie could actually be performed roughly enough to give him a literal "hothead".
"Thank god!" Butch said with a voracious appetite. "I'm starvin' over here!"
"Same here!" Brick agreed. "Well boys, let's dig in!"
And boy did they ever. It was the same scene as with the cake. At least with a pizza, they didn't actually need anything more than their hands, but they still managed to eat the pie like they had just been unfrozen from the caveman days. They got the gooey, stringy cheese all over themselves, as well as several of the toppings and the sauce, and they let out the same disgusting sounds as before with their shameless burping, slurping, and swallowing.
Elmer got his anchovy and pineapple pizza, and he was stuck picking off the undesirable toppings before finally taking a tiny bite of his slice of pizza himself. Right as he was in the middle of doing that, Butch decided to get a little "friendly" with him.
"Geez, you drink milk through these glasses?" Butch remarked at the thick specs on his face, before snatching them right off of his face.
Elmer reached out on instinct for his specs, but Butch acted offended, saying, "Hey, can't a man help another man clean off his glasses?"
Elmer sighed inwardly. He knew how this game worked. There was a 50% chance he'd get those glasses back intact, and another 50% chance they'd end up chucked or destroyed. Then he'd have to go out with his mom to buy yet another pair.
"I.. I guess so," he allowed defeatedly, blind as a bat without those glasses.
To his credit, Butch did clean them off, though he used his spit to do so, and wiped them off on his own shirt, which had seen better days as far as cleanliness. Afterwards he tried them out on his own face and asked his siblings how he looked.
"Like a dork." Brick replied bluntly, and Boomer laughed, seconding, "Yeah! Like a dork!"
He got a backhand slap to his face for his comment, even though it had been no different from his brother's.
"No offense Casper," Brick added, shortly afterwards.
"N-None taken," Elmer replied. "Can I have my glasses back now?" He was fully aware that he probably wouldn't get them back, but he asked anyway, hoping that just this once, he'd get a break.
"Sure kid," Butch said easily. He held them out in front of Elmer. "Here."
The pale boy reached out, and sure enough, the glasses were yanked back just as he was about to grab them. Sigh. This was another game the poor boy was familiar with. The game of keep-away.
"Whoops! Try again."
"Butch, you're such a dick." Brick criticized, though of course he made no move to stop him.
"No I'm not," Butch defended. "I'm just seein' if he really wants 'em. Come on kid, really go for 'em!"
Elmer tried. He really did. But since his eyesight was so poor, he hardly even saw what he was grabbing at before the specs were pulled away time and time again. Finally Butch got bored with just the keep-away schtick and decided to spice things up a bit.
"Tell ya what. Why don't you stand on your hind legs for me and beg like a dog?"
By 'hind legs', Elmer guessed he meant the tips of his toes. Fine. He was used to humiliation like this so he bit the bullet. He got up from his table and stood on his toes, curling his hands out in front of him like a T-rex. Then he made an appropriate whimpering sound.
The boys predictably laughed at his expense and Boomer suggested that someone give him his "Scooby Snack". Brick obliged by throwing a Dorito at him, which Elmer also predictably failed to catch in his mouth.
"Good boy! Twirl around!" Elmer obeyed, doing a little ballerina spin.
"Now roll on the ground. Keep whining."
Elmer got on the floor and rolled across the carpet on his back, whining softly and miserably.
Finally Butch threw him a bone. The bone in this case being his glasses, or what he thought were his glasses.
"Good boy. Now fetch."
Elmer went after the object thrown over to the wastebin, but in reality, it was actually a napkin that Butch had balled up beforehand and chucked past him.
After the boys burst out into mocking laughter all over again and Elmer wasted time rummaging uselessly through the bin, Butch whistled him over. "Hey kid!" he called. "I'm just messin' with ya. Here they are!"
He waved the glasses in his hand one last time before finally releasing them, tossing them over to the other side of the booth.
Before the boy could make it back to his seat however, one of the Ruffs secretly planted a whoopie cushion in the exact spot where he would be sitting.
And sure enough, once Elmer set his fanny back down to put on his glasses, a rude farting noise was soon released from the air sack.
The boys made a show of plugging their noses and waving the air, asking him what on earth he had eaten.
Elmer sighed before removing the now flattened whoopie cushion from underneath his rear. Yeah, he was getting his daily dose of clockwork bullying today, but at least it was limited mostly to harmless pranks instead of vicious beatings.
Brick noticed his downtrodden expression and seemed to at least pretend to show some compassion. "Aw, lighten up ghostie. We're just funnin' ya, that's all. You got those glasses back didn't ya?"
Yeah, he guessed so. That was better than most days.
"Say, those are some nice-looking presents ya got there." Brick nodded over to the pile of neatly wrapped packages sitting beside the booth. "Mind if we take a look?"
Elmer wasn't stupid. By "take a look", he was sure they mainly meant steal and claim for themselves, but what could he do about it? He wasn't about to go toe-to-toe with supervillains, so he allowed them to do what they pleased.
"Sure," he said submissively.
At first they eagerly ripped off the presents' wrapping paper and took a look inside the boxes, only to be disappointed by what they found.
"Wait. A chew toy? I was only jokin' about the dog thing! Is this actually a chew toy?" Butch asked incredulously, as he held up a yellow ball with a smiley face on it.
"No, that's a stress ball. It uh, relieves stress." Elmer explained redundantly.
"You gotta be kiddin' me!"
"Where's the good stuff?" Boomer whined, holding up a thick wool sweater that made him think of some smelly old geezer.
Brick expressed similar disappointment with his find, which was a case of dominoes. Friggin' dominoes! "God, this is like being in an old person's home!"
There were more underwhelming items. A slinky, boresville. A chia pet, yeesh. And worst of all, a crossword puzzle book.
The only thing that was worth pocketing was a happy birthday card sealed in an envelope with six dollars inside.
"That was lame. Lamer than lame!" Butch criticized, like it was their birthday presents that ended up being a bust instead of Elmer's.
"No Playstation, no Nerf Gun, not even an action figure! Seriously kid, what did you do to make your parents hate you so much?"
"I would've at least taken a pet rock!" Boomer groused.
Elmer didn't know what to say. He appreciated all of his gifts, but obviously his party crashers hadn't. All he could do was shrug and apologize, feeling even more like a loser than he normally did.
Brick actually seemed to take pity on him, sighing before taking something out of his pocket.
"Well kid, this one's a first, but here ya go. Take this slingshot."
It was a bit rusty, but still looked like it was in fair condition. "You know what we used to do with that?" He asked, after Elmer wrapped his fingers around the kid's toy.
Elmer shook his head.
"Kill rabbits!" Boomer answered. "And squirrels!" Butch added. "Shot 'em right in the eye!"
Ah, so it was a hunting slingshot. Elmer wasn't sure he wanted to use it to maim poor animals though.
"So if you ever wanna merc somebody," Brick finished. "Here's what you do." He went behind Elmer and set up the ammunition, putting one of the steel balls into the pouch.
"Now first, you load up your ammo. Make sure it's right in the center. Which hand is your good hand?"
Elmer held up his right one. "This one?"
"Alright. That'll be the one that holds up the base. Your opposite hand is the one that holds the rubber band." He proceeded to take hold of the boy's hands and place them in the right position.
"Next, you gotta hold your ammo in place. Make sure you don't squeeze the pouch closed around the ammo and that there's enough of a gap for the stuff to actually pass through."
Elmer nodded. He was actually taking serious notes here, and was impressed with Brick's level of detail. He actually made a really good teacher.
"Now just draw back, not too far though, and I think for you, you wanna hold your slingshot sideways."
With that step done, it was on to the next one. Meanwhile Butch and Boomer set up a little pyramid out of the emptied soda cans on the table, stacking them up nicely to be knocked down.
That's where Elmer took aim. He stuck his tongue out and closed one eye, imagining that those cans were actually Mitch Mitchelson's huge ugly face.
"Keep both eyes open when you're looking for your target and always aim slightly above."
Ah. So he had been doing it a bit wrong then. Elmer quickly opened both of his eyes.
"Now, when you're ready to take your first shot, remember to take a deep breath in first."
Elmer obeyed, filling his lungs with air.
"You hold it, then you release. Right… now!" At the very last moment, Brick pulled a fast one on the determined little boy, and shifted his body all the way around. No longer facing the cans, he was now facing the unsuspecting crowd of diners at the other table booths!
The boy ended up releasing the ammo right into the back of an old geezer's head! And when it made its mark, it left a sizable welt.
When the old guy whipped his head around, Brick, Boomer, and Butch all pointed fingers at Elmer as the culprit, grinning like little fools.
The paste eating boy never looked more mortified than he did in that moment right there.
"Troublesome little hooligans," The old-timer mumbled sulfurously under his breath before turning back around to enjoy his meal.
