A sandwich – lettuce and tomato between slices of granary. It was his: fuck Dazzie. She could suck a horse cock. He wanted it; he would have it. Now where in this shithole was the alcohol? Dodgy Dipper, the prick. He kept it behind the counter. Old bastard.
Thunder crept toward the counter and peered at the wall. Lucky day! Stupid git had nipped to the back! Thunder leapt onto the counter. He slid off to the cashier’s side and grabbed the nearest bottle. Wine. Not his favourite, but nickers could not be pickers. Checked the till. Locked. No surprise. He spotted a safety box, the kind used for stamps. Worth a look? Could not be arsed if it was stamps. He checked the box. It was open. He flipped the lid.
Holy shit! Gemstones? What a bag! Now to get the hell out of –
‘Pretty, aren’t they?’
Ah, shit. Shit, shit! The old bastard. Thunder turned. Dipper was smiling. The old fuck. Thunder was screwed. This time Dazzie would have him in a cell, the bitch. For fuck’s sake. Maybe he should have slugged the bastard and legged it. No, no, that would make it worse. Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Dipper was still smiling. Bastard. Wanted to draw it out, did he? Wanted to make Thunder squirm. He could still dip, but what was the point? Heck, maybe Dipper would let him off if he gave him back his stuff. Thunder set onto the counter the sandwich and the bottle. He replaced the jewellery box. Dipper watched him quietly.
‘There. Won’t do it again. Happy?’
Dipper smiled more widely. He looked Thunder in the eye. Thunder did not like his stare. Something was cooking in that melon. Bastard. Could not even let him off with a spot of lifting. Thunder had dropped his wine, and he still wanted to grass on him? Then Dipper said, ‘If you help me, I won’t tell the police.’
Eh? Fuck was this? ‘What sort of help?’
‘It’s very simple. Ten minutes of your time and you can leave. I’ve watched you, Thunder. I know you. I saw you lift from the shop before.’ Fucker! He had more on him! Ah, shit – he’d have seen Thunder pinch the jackets last week. For fuck’s sake. ‘But that’s OK. I’ll let it slide if you agree to one thing.’
‘Yeah?’
‘If you stare at my arse for me, I’ll let it all slide.’
The fuck? Crazy bastard had snapped! Ah, fuck, Thunder should have known: they called the old bastard ‘Dodgy’ for a reason. Stare at his arse? Did he look like a colthole? Thunder should have trounced the perv. Taught him a lesson like the one the teaching of which had landed him in clink. That’s what he thought of coltholes. Dipper spoke before Thunder could give him a piece of his mind.
‘You don’t have to touch or get naked or anything. Just stare. That’s all.’
Cracked. The fucker was cracked. Mind you, Thunder would rather stare at an old arse than be sat on his in a cell again. Mother was about ready to disown him as was. Another stint would be the last straw. Shit. Stare, had he said? Just stare? Creepy old fuck. Stare at his arse. Well, Thunder was no colthole, but it was not as though he would be touching anything – and how many times had he seen inmates’ arses in the showers? Sleazy nut got off on Thunder eyeballing his shitter, and Thunder kept his future inheritance. Heck, it really wasn’t that bad. Since Dipper would face away from him, the idiot would not know that Thunder was not looking.
‘Ten minutes?’
Dipper grinned. ‘Ten minutes. Let me lock the door.’
The bastard did not want anypony to butt in. Well, if he tried anything funny, Thunder would crack his skull. Once he had locked up, Dipper pocketed his key. He bent over without ceremony, pulling down his pants. They stood in silence in this position. Time crawled.
What the fuck was Thunder doing? How much more shitty were things going to get? Look at this crap, the shit he had to do to survive out here. Steal sandwiches and stare at arses. Just because he had taught a colthole a lesson once. Taught him that cocks were not for arses. Universe liked irony, make no mistake.
‘All right. That’s ten. A deal’s a deal.’
‘A deal’s a deal. Thanks.’ Smirking, Dipper pulled up his pants. He unlocked the door. ‘Now get out.’
Thunder left without another word. At least he was off the hook. Hungry, though, and no cash. Mooch off Mother? She would think he was after booze. He would buy booze if he found some cash. No harm in trying another store – so long as he did it carefully.
Thunder stepped out onto the docks. Ah, for fuck’s sake. A glance at an arse had him thinking about shit again. What the fuck was he going to do with himself? Scrape by only for his arsehole family to sneer? Fuck it – another store it was. Grab himself a good –
A familiar mane and familiar eyes, narrowed. In a familiar uniform. Ah, shit. What the fuck was she doing here?
‘Thunder!’ Dazzie ran at him. Thunder stopped and shrugged. ‘Get your hooves behind you.’
‘The fuck are you on about?’
‘Where’re the jewels?’
‘The fuck is this? Piss off; get your hooves off me.’
‘You never cease to amaze.’
‘Wha—? Oi! Get off!’
Dazzie cuffed him. She marched him to her police cart, whose top was flashing. Thunder saw Dodgy Dipper. ‘That’s him!’ said Dipper.
‘Where are they?’ demanded Dazzie again.
‘What are you on about?’
‘The gemstones. What have you done with them?’
‘Nothing! And he would know!’
‘You admit you were in his shop?’
‘Yeah, but I didn’t take anything! We were –’
Thunder’s stomach plummeted. His face burned. Dipper leaned forward, the ghost of a smile in his eyes. ‘He was stealing a bottle of wine when he found my jewellery box. I was in the back and caught him. He ran for it.’
Dazzie glared at Thunder. Her eyes, violet, were hard like Mother’s. She sighed and turned. ‘Mr Dipper, are your jewels insured?’
‘They are.’
‘I think you’d better file a claim. Knowing my brother, I’m sorry to say: you likely won’t see them again.’
Dipper’s mouth twitched. ‘Thank you, Ms Dash. I’ll do that right away.’
