Chapter 1: How It Started

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Riley looked at his best friend dubiously. John had been going over this plan for a week now, but it still hadn't grown on Riley yet. 'Let's start a business—a party business,' John had proposed one afternoon, wide-eyed and beside himself with excitement.

"We'll bring low-quality gags and pranks to kid's parties all across this part of town, for a low price of 14 dollars an hour! We'll be famous, Rye! Every four-year-old worth his juice boxes will know our names."

Riley had ignored John at the time—John was always coming up with wacky ideas. But John had persisted.

"Look at it this way," John had argued the next day, trying to appeal to Riley's logical side, "if we're ever going to get enough money to pay for a date, we need to get jobs. And as much as I enjoy sitting on my butt all day long and playing Call of Duty with you, pressing buttons on an Xbox controller doesn't exactly pay seven bucks an hour."

Riley had raised an eyebrow, keeping his eyes studiously focused on the screen in front of him, thumb dashing down on a button; he was a master of multi-tasking. "A date?"

"Huh?" John asked, confused.

"You said, and I quote, 'if we're ever going to get enough money to pay for a date', implying one. Do you mean that one of us will get a date and the other will not? Or perhaps," Riley hunched over his remote momentarily, twisted the remote to the side in a reflex reaction and pressed down on the button several times, grinning evilly to himself at the death of two computerized opponents, "you meant that we should go on the date together. If that is the case, then I reserve the right to make the first move."

John, flushing darkly, crossed his arms. "Are you serious, Rye? I put a lot of thought into that argument, and that's what you focus on—grammar?"

"Don't be mad at me. It's a rough world out there. If you want to convince people of an idea, you have to present the whole package cleanly and precisely. I'm just preparing you for the real world. You should thank me." John deadpanned, then added, "And if it took you that long to come up with that argument, then I have very bad news for you my friend."

"You are such a buzz kill." John had whined.

Yet, somehow, John had convinced Riley to go along with his ridiculous plan, and now they were standing outside the house of their first client: George Spokes.

Age: 5.

Party theme: Batman.

Number of kids attending: 11. Not including George.

"What can go wrong?" John asked, his fake inflatable muscles from the Batman suit he was wearing made a squeaky sound as he slammed the door of his Jeep shut.

"A lot of things." Riley said, fingering his plastic gun.

He was the robber, and John was Batman. The plan was to put on a show. Riley would run inside and take the birthday kid hostage. Then Batman John would burst in and save the day. A fantastic entrance, to lead into an even more fantastic party. They hadn't rehearsed it, but, really, what was there to rehearse? That had been John's logic.

Riley was beginning to regret this—and they hadn't even done anything yet.

Twenty minutes, one sprained ankle, two broken windows, one smashed cake, a mob of angry parents, twelve crying kids, and zero dollars later, Riley remembered why he usually gunned down John's idiotic ideas with merciless efficiency.

"It could have gone worse," John tried, half-heartedly. "I mean, we're not in jail, are we?"

"Don't." Riley gritted out through his teeth. "You are not allowed to say anything for two days."

"But—"

"Not. One. Word."

"...Can I hum?"

Riley considered this.

"Quietly," he allowed.

And John hummed as they walked.