Poloniousmonk@Uair@autistics.life
I know a garbage truck can handle a full stick of dynamite inside it without blowing apart. Otherwise, I woulda read about it in the paper.
My friends across the street threw a party and four fucking assholes we didn't even know showed up and made a racially motivated attack on our Black friend, Bill. Now, Bill wasn't a token, but my home town was so racist it was pretty much fully segregated, by choice on both sides. Bill was from out of town. Now, in the internet days, it's probably not uncommon for high school kids to have out of town friends. Back then, they were hard to meet.
Funny side note--I had a bit of an in because I hung out with the Asian kids in my smart classes. They kinda vouched for me. So, on his first day in a new school, in 8th grade, little skinny Ian got the shit kicked out of him by Mike at the bus stop. I mean--before school on the first day. It must have been a nightmare.
By tenth grade, Ian was about six foot four, a multi-sport athlete, and carved out of absolute muscle. But he was a really gentle, cool dude. He did have a resting bitch face. Probably from all the racism he had to put up with.
He taught me how to take revenge. I loved watching Mike scurry away whenever it looked like they may meet in the hall. He was never gonna kick Mike's ass. He was the better man. The best way to take revenge is to do nothing at all, and have the person who wronged you twitchily looking over his shoulder for the next decade.
So anyway, by 5AM, these assholes had disassembled the trampoline and were walking around with three foot steel pipes. My friends were barricaded in their house. I decided to solve the problem. I fucking solve problems, except most of the time you're not allowed to do that.
I had dynamite, birdshot, and double-stick tape. You'd be surprised how nasty a quarter stick of dynamite is. You should /see/ what it can do to a mailbox. So I made four IEDs and was heading over to fuck these guy's world up when my mom intercepted me at the door. I wasn't a big enough asshole to just throw my mother down, so I backed away and gave her my IEDs. And she threw them in the fucking trash. That's how I know a garbage truck can contain a stick of dynamite. 'Cuz that shit surely detonated when they compacted. Some people have no concept of weapons safety.
The story ends with a high speed chase. My friends had a Camaro, the four assholes had a Mustang. The chase went on for a long time. We were...not the kind of kids to ask for help. At one point, Bill went up through the T-top and chucked a 40 bottle at the Mustang, but it didn't break the windshield. The chase only ended when my friends pulled into the police station parking lot.
And as a bonus--I gotta give Bill respect. He once outran the K9 unit. He was a track star, and the cops sicc'ed the dog on him simply for being Black and at a party.