stl: anamaniacs, 'pinky and the brain'
(sorry if it's not up to par, katie. this one was hard to write.)
A giggle escaped between two pairs of tight lips as the hefted the oil drum from the truck bed.
Giggling? Since when did we become school girls?
As they shuffled their way through the school toward the gymnasium, the foul liquid contained in said barrel sloshed, threatening to spill over the very moment they were caught unaware in a fit of laughter. Sure, they were taking this little prank of theirs too far but they had had just about enough of the side-long glances, the gawking, catcalls and none-too-nice threats. People just didn't understand.
They weren't like that.
They were more like Dangermouse and Penfold, Batman and Robin. They had each other's backs at all times, both when creating mayhem and putting an end to it. The former had occurred much more often than the latter until recently. Not so long ago, they had been viewed as the 'Class Clowns,' the go-to guys for a good laugh. Now they were being ridiculed, laughed at. All because they were best friends, closer than brothers; naturally, this did not go unnoticed by the cruel minds of the surrounding student body. The world of locker-lined hallways was a torturous place to exist-- some days it felt as though it were a dead man's walk.
This would teach them though.
They had been underestimated. Bonnie and Clyde had their heyday, Bacall and Bogi still lived in black and white infamy. So, too, would these brothers. They would once again rise to the occasion, two glittering stars in a filthy place, absent of individuality or humor. Perhaps now they could breathe again. Well, after the stink cleared out, of course. A chuckle ripped through the quiet night, bouncing off of the bleachers, the floor and back into its owner's face.
'Shh!'
Carefully, they placed their 'present' on the very edge of the catwalk above the stage and set to work creating the trap that would unveil just how intelligent and crafty they were capable of being. Rope looped over itself, fishing line was made into a trip wire; it all was coming together quite nicely, if they were so bold as to boast about it. They toiled until the early hours of an otherwise unremarkable Saturday morning.
Prom night was on the horizon.
In a few short hours, they would fall from the ranks of The Blues Brothers and become Pinky and the Brain.
But it would be worth it.
It was always worth it.