SKATE FICTION...
OPERATION:
INFILTRATION
IT COULD HAVE HAPPENED TO YOU...
I turned the ignition off and coasted the
rest of the way down the street, stopping
three doors before our objective. The air was
still except for the faint sound of cricketts
over in the nearby marsh.
I motioned silence to my companions, Ivan,
Rex and Rycky. We must remain quite still for
a period of time so as not to give ourselves
away. I yanked at the velcro Crystal Cover
Strap of my Indestructable nylon Commando
Watchband, revealing the luminous dial. 0200..
The Websters should be right in the middle of
their weekly Satanic ritual over on the other
side of town about now. That leaves us with
about two full hours of skate time in their
empty 12' kidney.
We have been monitoring the Websters for
about three weeks now, and have come to the
conclusion that they are devout members of a
satanic cult. It doesn't bother us though,
because their beliefs take them out of the
house once a week for meetings and sacrifices...
Our crew was pretty bushed, me included.
We had been on manuevers through the hottest
part of the day over in the now famous, lower
Eastside, behind the tortilla factory. We were
functioning at about 75 percent bodily strength
level and if not for a stop by 'The Manor' to
visit the mainman, we would be pretty much out
of commision by now. The Grade C coursed
rapidly through our veins, more and more as
we anticipated zero-gravity.
"Smoke em' if ya' got em'", I said to the
rest just before the vows of silence were taken.
We crept down the sidewalk, evenly paced.
Upon reaching the Webster's back fence, Rex.
and Ivan held a board between them, making
a makeshift step. I went over the wall first,
lightly touching the ground. Thirty seconds
was the interval time. One thousand-three, one
thousand-two, one thousand-one. I gave the
high-sign and soon everyone was on the inside.
We sprinted to the far side of the pool, so
as to have a full view of the house, just in
case our information proved imperfect.
I was crouched next to a patio table. On it
a curious looking centerpiece. I picked it up
for close quarter examination. The centerpiece,
as they are called, was a perfectly intact
skeleton of a cat sitting on its haunches. The
skull was painted blood red, with a white symbol
emblazoned between the eyes. I put it back
down with disregard. We weren't here to sightsee.
The area seemed pretty secure, so we scrambled
into the pool. Ivan's pain was becoming evident.
He was favoring the leg that got hit with a
thrown bat at a stupid game of over-the-line
that we broke up yesterday afternoon. We got