The Not-Outcast by Tijan
17
Cheyenne
There were so many different uses for toilet paper.
The obvious wiping your ass use. Toga use. Bridal party use. General party decoration use. Apocalypse panic-buying use. Then, you know, the whole rolling it and stuffing it somewhere and everyone’s imaginations can fill in the blank for those places. Bulging penises. Bras. Maybe just the use of wiping sweat from under the boobs. But today, no, tonight. Tonight the toilet paper was being used to make a statement: to be a pain in someone’s ass.
Chad’s ass, to be specific. Fucking Chad.
The entire back of Matilda was filled with toilet paper. Some might think we went overboard, but no way. The TP would always be used if we didn’t use it tonight. Pulling up, Sasha cut the lights and we frowned at the massive amounts of vehicles parked in both driveways and on the street.
“Did your boy say they were having a party?”
“The house is dark.”
“They have a backyard?”
I glanced sideways at Sasha. “You’ve not been here?”
She shook her head, her face grim and focused on the house. “He came over to my place each time.”
Right.
Fucking Chad.
“I think they have a big backyard.”
Her mouth tightened. She swallowed. She tightened her hold on the steering wheel, she might’ve been trying to strangle it, pretending it was Chad’s neck. She let it go in the next breath and unclasped her seatbelt. “Let’s do this.”
My heart started pounding.
My blood started searing, rippling, getting worked up.
We were in our older twenties. We were into our careers. We should know better, right? Well, we did. But I still loved doing stupid, immature stuff like this.
Made me feel normal.
Not that we didn’t do this when we were in college, but I’d still been figuring things out. Half the shit I did, I didn’t know what I was doing or why I was doing it, I was just in a craze. Now, though…now I could enjoy it. And my girl was hurting, and fucking Chad, but I was having fun this time.
I was just hoping no cops were called, because … embarrassing.
Right now, we were both moving stealthily.
The secret agent and the assassin.
We were business-like.
We’d even gone to Sasha’s and changed clothes. All black.
I wanted to wear a mask. I had a cool, skull-looking one at my place, but Sasha vetoed it, saying we’d for sure get cops called on us then. So, we were going no mask, but still all black, and though my heart was thumping out of my chest, both of us were the epitome of a Toilet Paper SEAL Team being called in.
It was effin’ awesome.
Sasha lifted the back door. We each took an entire case of rolls and then we went to work.
Cut had told me once that Chad’s side of the house was the smaller one, so that’s where we went. We went over, stopped in the lawn, and perused the house. Then, exchanging a nod, we got to work.
The toilet paper cases were dropped on the lawn. Tore open. And the first roll was out, being cocked back, and we each let ’em loose. They flew through the air, the paper trailing behind it looking like a small, fluttering little kite tail. It was a sight to behold. Absolutely glorious.
I went back to Matilda and grabbed some earbuds from my purse.
A good bass and some rap beat were going to make this night epic.
* * *
An hour later,the entire front was covered.
We weren’t thinking. We should’ve done the back first, but we had already committed. We couldn’t back out now.
Sasha waved and yelled over my music, “I’m going to the side.”
I nodded, trekking back to Matilda for my third case of toilet paper. This stuff was caked on in some places.
Then I headed to the backyard.
* * *
Two hours later,Eminem and the 8 Mile soundtrack was blasting in my ears and most of the backyard was done.
Over the windows.
Tucked in between some of the siding.
Over, around, and through the hedges.
Under some of the rocks. Over the rocks.
I had made trails of toilet paper over and around the other piles of toilet paper. I was considering the logistics of making a whole toilet paper igloo when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
Expecting Sasha, I was smiling, and knowing I looked a little drunk because that was the level I was on, I turned and it was not Sasha.
Not Sasha at all.
My Not-Brother was glowering at me.
He was so not happy.
Fucking Chad.
