check to make sure Tod isn’t around, and make my way to the rendezvous point. Sharon is already there, smoking, a white tank top under her jacket.
“I told you to wear black.”
“I forgot. What are we doing, anyway?”
“Zip up your jacket and hide your shirt.”
She obediently zips up, then lights another Gauloise and hands it to me.
“Where are we going and why is it such a big secret?”
“We’re going to Chocko’s to exact a little old-time justice.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see when we get there.”
Sharon frowns. “I don’t know …”
“Come on. This is our chance to really get back at him.”
“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.”
“You don’t even know what the idea is, yet.” I produce the markers from my pockets like duelling pistols. “The pen is mightier than the sword.”
“What?”
“You know …” I make a scrubbing motion with the markers. Sharon raises her eyebrows. She still doesn’t understand
“His pictures …”
“The ones in his room?”
“Yes!”
“Oh! Uhh … okay … do you think that’s a good idea…?”
“Yes, I do. Are you crapping out on me?”
“No.”
“Come on, he so deserves this. We’re helping to right the wrongs in the world.”
Sharon rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”
“Don’t be a chicken.”
“I’m not a chicken!”
“Okay, let’s go, then.”
“Fine.”
We follow the road to Chocko’s, Sharon nattering nervously about Gus, her favourite topic. I guess they’ve been getting pretty comfortable with each other. I’d rather not hear about Gus because it just reminds me how pathetic my own love life is. But I don’t feel like talking so I let Sharon go on until we reach our destination.
Chocko’s house is dark except for the porch light and a room upstairs. There’s no car in the driveway so I’m pretty sure he’s out. I press my face against the kitchen window.
“Looks like the coast is clear.”
“Maybe he’s sleeping.”
“Chocko doesn’t sleep; he’s an incubus. Besides, he’d never go to bed this early. He stays up late, cutting dirty pictures from magazines.”
“I don’t know, Sioux… what if he comes back?”
I ignore her and sneak around to the back door, testing the handle. The door creaks open.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Sharon says.
“Yeah, I heard you the first ten times you said it.” I can tell she’s thinking of ditching so I decide to change my tack. I hold up the markers. “Divine retribution, remember?”
She looks over her shoulder, as if she expects Chocko to pop out of the bushes any second. “What if he’s inside?”
“He’s not here. The place is empty. You won’t forgive yourself if you miss out on this. Besides, it’ll give you ideas for your CPP.”
Sharon finally concedes, following me into the house. I have to admit, it’s creepy being in someone else’s place, especially when that someone else is Chocko.
“It’s upstairs,” I whisper, clicking on my little flashlight. We slowly ascend, every horror movie I’ve ever seen reeling through my head. Sharon tugs on my shirt.
“Remember that scene from
Blair Witch
with all the little handprints on the wall?”
“Yeah.”
At the top of the stairs, I distribute the markers.
“Prepare to be totally freaked out.”
We step into the room and I close the door. Sharon gasps as I snap on the light.
“Oh my God!”
“See!”
Sharon gapes at the hundreds of pictures, then glances at her marker in dismay.
“Just the nipples and nether parts,” I tell her.
“It’ll take all night.”
“Let’s get to work, then, shall we?”
There’s a wooden chair in one corner of the room so I pull it over to stand on, uncap my marker and start drawing black boxes over the exposed parts of the ladies. Sharon follows my lead, working on the lower half of the room so we’ll meet in the middle. At first, I black out the eyes of the women too, like those censored photos you see, to
“I told you to wear black.”
“I forgot. What are we doing, anyway?”
“Zip up your jacket and hide your shirt.”
She obediently zips up, then lights another Gauloise and hands it to me.
“Where are we going and why is it such a big secret?”
“We’re going to Chocko’s to exact a little old-time justice.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see when we get there.”
Sharon frowns. “I don’t know …”
“Come on. This is our chance to really get back at him.”
“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.”
“You don’t even know what the idea is, yet.” I produce the markers from my pockets like duelling pistols. “The pen is mightier than the sword.”
“What?”
“You know …” I make a scrubbing motion with the markers. Sharon raises her eyebrows. She still doesn’t understand
“His pictures …”
“The ones in his room?”
“Yes!”
“Oh! Uhh … okay … do you think that’s a good idea…?”
“Yes, I do. Are you crapping out on me?”
“No.”
“Come on, he so deserves this. We’re helping to right the wrongs in the world.”
Sharon rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”
“Don’t be a chicken.”
“I’m not a chicken!”
“Okay, let’s go, then.”
“Fine.”
We follow the road to Chocko’s, Sharon nattering nervously about Gus, her favourite topic. I guess they’ve been getting pretty comfortable with each other. I’d rather not hear about Gus because it just reminds me how pathetic my own love life is. But I don’t feel like talking so I let Sharon go on until we reach our destination.
Chocko’s house is dark except for the porch light and a room upstairs. There’s no car in the driveway so I’m pretty sure he’s out. I press my face against the kitchen window.
“Looks like the coast is clear.”
“Maybe he’s sleeping.”
“Chocko doesn’t sleep; he’s an incubus. Besides, he’d never go to bed this early. He stays up late, cutting dirty pictures from magazines.”
“I don’t know, Sioux… what if he comes back?”
I ignore her and sneak around to the back door, testing the handle. The door creaks open.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Sharon says.
“Yeah, I heard you the first ten times you said it.” I can tell she’s thinking of ditching so I decide to change my tack. I hold up the markers. “Divine retribution, remember?”
She looks over her shoulder, as if she expects Chocko to pop out of the bushes any second. “What if he’s inside?”
“He’s not here. The place is empty. You won’t forgive yourself if you miss out on this. Besides, it’ll give you ideas for your CPP.”
Sharon finally concedes, following me into the house. I have to admit, it’s creepy being in someone else’s place, especially when that someone else is Chocko.
“It’s upstairs,” I whisper, clicking on my little flashlight. We slowly ascend, every horror movie I’ve ever seen reeling through my head. Sharon tugs on my shirt.
“Remember that scene from
Blair Witch
with all the little handprints on the wall?”
“Yeah.”
At the top of the stairs, I distribute the markers.
“Prepare to be totally freaked out.”
We step into the room and I close the door. Sharon gasps as I snap on the light.
“Oh my God!”
“See!”
Sharon gapes at the hundreds of pictures, then glances at her marker in dismay.
“Just the nipples and nether parts,” I tell her.
“It’ll take all night.”
“Let’s get to work, then, shall we?”
There’s a wooden chair in one corner of the room so I pull it over to stand on, uncap my marker and start drawing black boxes over the exposed parts of the ladies. Sharon follows my lead, working on the lower half of the room so we’ll meet in the middle. At first, I black out the eyes of the women too, like those censored photos you see, to
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