Couch Bandits (ending)

Foreplace chat:
Fuck me if i am wrong, but do you wanna kiss??? I know its been over due to the fullest, and i am sure this on't live up to any expectations frommy overblown break, but here is the chilling conclusion.



3:00 am: The police came at just the right time, since we were only a few yards away from a break in the fence. We walked onto the path, but in the opposite direction of the cops. Both cars mysteriously ended up all the way down at the Nord Ave connection. Strange, I thought. It seemed at first that both cars should be headed right where we are. They saw us moving a couch, they told us they had our couch after we ran away from it, and now they are a four-minute walk down the path. We decided that it was in our best interest to flee like would be bandits, so we darted towards campus. All three of us hoped the next fence, hit the ground hard, and waited behind some ROTC training unit. Bright lights moved in all directions around us, but could never penetrate our radius of immediate safety.

We sat, waiting for days, and months and minutes and seconds and years and days and seconds and minutes and months and days. We had no idea what was going on. Were the cops having a meeting on the path? Did that second car bring fresh donuts? Something was up, and it was bigger than just us and our dream of stealing a couch. Our dream coupled with our blood alcohol level forced one rash decision. We wanted to know what was stopping us from completing our mission. The next moment we were hoping back over to the path, back on our mission.

“Shlacka Lacka!” exclaimed Tyler.
“What’s going on?” pondered Nick.

“Time to get arrested.” I quipped, though I was part sarcastic I was also part serious. I had already gone through a lot that night, and I was pretty much prepared for anything… well accept maybe a bullet to the face, but how do you prepare for that? Bulletproof masks? I still would get knocked over, damn, that was a stupid idea.

We closed in on the police, walking fast and keeping our heavy heads upright. There were two cop cars, one cop outside, the other cop was no where to be seen. As we walked by the one in view Tyler exclaimed, “Hey, what is the couch doing there for no good reason. Could we take it off your hands? We’d do it for free my good man.” In stating this Tyler gave this party crasher’s professional cue to take us down, because the cop immediately scoffed “I’m not dumb.” He grabbed Tyler and I, threw us on the couch and told Nick to stand against the police car.

“You’re the boys who moved this couch, I saw you. You can’t be moving couches on the train tracks… imagine what could have happened if a train came?” He handcuffed Tyler and I while keeping an eye on Nick. His radio beamed static every now and again he would answer back some stereotypical officer jargon, but he stopped long enough to let us know we had been mistaken. He said the cops were out on the path at this time of night because some bum called in a domestic disturbance call. He reminded me of Ali G when he uses racial terms to describe a police seen while he trained to be a police officer. It made me laugh at an inopportune time. I realized that this whole predicament was all because of some dumb luck. Our great quest was thwarted by coincidence. He looked at me with disgust, but his looks faded fast.

The bastard didn’t even care about me or Tyler or Nick, he just wanted to move the couch and talk to some married bums. He let us go after a bit of stereotypical questioning. Right as Tyler broke his chains he asked the cop “So, since you’re doing nothing with that couch can we take it off your hands?” Nick and I laughed hard, but the cop took it a different way. He yelled back “Get the fuck out of here!” We quietly walked back to the apartment, drank some beers, checked the path three more times only to see blue and red lights every time, drank some more beers and passed out only to find the next day the house we stole from had a new leather couch out front. Could this be revenge?