Vengeance for the Win
Mickey strode through the short grass, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. His cap was pulled down low, and he avoided looking at anyone. Maybe that way they would never be able to identify him, just in case his plan went south. The scowl hidden in shadows under the brim of his baseball hat etched lines all the way across his forehead and drew the corners of his mouth down.
[Peter Billings was going to pay.]
These words had become a mantra in Mickey’s mind, and his resolve for revenge solidified with each repetition.
The morning had started out great. Mickey was happy as he arrived at the ball field; after all, he was supposed to pitch in today’s game. But then coach said he heard about a comment Mickey had made the day before, and had benched him. It was all Peter’s fault; he had told the coach what Mickey had said—in confidence—and then that smug jerk actually had the nerve to laugh about it, in front of the rest of the team!
Mickey stormed away from the field, and was on his way home when the plan came to him. He knew where to find the gun, and he decided then, that Peter was going to pay for being a snitch.
When Mickey reached the ball field, he ducked under the bleachers. The weight of the loaded gun tucked into his belt at the small of his back gave him all the courage he needed.
He knew the loading of the gun—with vinegar and black ink, instead of water—was nothing short of inspired.
[Oh yeah, Peter was going to pay all right.]