Es como Quitarse dulces al bebe (It’s like taking candy from a baby)

Daniel always woke up early on Halloween to plot his attack on the unsuspecting trick-or-treaters. He relished in the misfortune of others. The plan this year was to have two of his accomplices hide in bushes with scream masks, jump out when trick-or-treaters walk by and steal their candy. They all knew it was a stupid prank to play, but after so many years, it was tradition. This year, Daniel wanted over the top, so he decided to dress up like Mike Myers and crash all the Halloween parties in town.
“Ok, so this year, I say we set a goal for 150 bags of candy,” Daniel smiled, as he rubbed his large hands together. One would definitely say that Daniel was a big guy. He stood 6 feet and 2 inches tall with spiky brown hair and brown eyes. This morning he wore a shirt that read: HITMAN FOR HIRE.
His accomplices, Jack and Freddie, were just as tall. Jack, was a chubby Cuban boy with glasses, he had thick, curly black hair and piercing blue eyes. He transferred from Miami a year ago, and with his rumored ties with the Mafia, no one dared to cross him. Freddie, on the other hand, was an awkward fellow. With bright red hair, green eyes and freckles, he was often made fun of as a child. That was until the day that Freddie flipped out and starting throwing tables and chairs in the middle of his first grade classroom. After that, no one messed with Freddie.
“Why 150? Why not 200?” Jack inquired as he put on his You Talkin to me Scarface t-shirt and bent down to put on his socks.
“Every year we go up 50 bags, you know the deal.” Daniel said, opening his closet to reveal the scream masks, still packaged in plastic.
“Why can’t we go up 100 bags this year?” Jack asked, while putting on his Air Jordan sneakers.
“I don’t know Jack. That has been the plan since we were sophomores.” Freddie replied as he took a drag from his Marlboro.
“Fucking maricons! We need to do something big. We are seniors now and we need to show them whose boss. We are the vaqueros oscuros, and we don’t want those vendejos to forget it!” Jack exclaimed, with his fist in the air.
“Hell yeah man! Nacho bell fucking grande man! We need to turn this motherfucker out!” Jack shouted, now energized from the Jack’s declaration of power.
“Alright, but I don’t wanna regret this,” said Freddie, still a bit hesitant of the idea. Freddie was, if possible, the voice of reason for this troublesome trio. He always did the research, followed protocol and never deviated from a plan that worked.
The three boys agreed to meet later that evening at Jack’s house since his grandmother was out of town. Jack and Freddie were to be dressed in all black and Daniel refused to tell them what he was wearing. “It will be a surprise,” he said.
Jack’s house was quite modest, which was a vast difference from the life he led in Miami. It was a three bedroom two bath brown and tan house with stairs leading to the porch that creaked more with each step. The house had been in the family forever. Even when Jack’s father offered to buy the house from her and buy her a home in Miami, she refused. She didn’t agree with Jack’s father’s lifestyle; fast cars, lots of money and lots of women. Jack never really knew his mother, she left when he was only 6 months and never bothered to make contact after that. His father sent him to live with his grandmother after Jack got into some trouble with the law. His father had to flee the country temporarily following a drug deal gone badly and he knew that if Jack remained in Miami, the police might try to set him up. So two days later, Jack stepped off the Greyhound in Columbus, Ohio.
The banging on the door rattled any presence of peace that might have been left by Jack’s grandmother.
“Un momento, por favor. I am putting my pants on.” He winked as Sally, a cheerleader for the Varsity squad, as she pulled her tank top on. “See you later papi,” she smiled and went out the back door.
Jack opened the door to see Freddie with a large black duffel bag. “Man I just got the best piece of ass man. I mean mami was doin it all.”
“I never get ass,” said Freddie, walking into the house. He put the bag on the floor and collapsed onto the suede sofa. “Have you talked to Daniel?”
“No, I was too busy tappin ass.” Jack smiled as he fastened the belt on his pants.
A loud knock at the door caught Jack off guard; he went back into defense mode and grabbed his grandmother’s shot gun. He opened the door to find someone in a Mike Myers costume.
Daniel quickly removed the mask in fear.
Jack snapped out of it, “Daniel, don’t be fuckin knocking on my door like that, I thought you were la policía.”
“Yo man, you need a drink or something.”
“So let’s get going already.”
The three boys assumed there positions and waited for the first group of trick-or-treaters to walk by.
“Es como Quitarse dulces al bebe,” said Jack rubbing his chubby palms together.
A group of young children walked by Jack’s bush and he jumped out of the bush. The children screamed, dropped their bags, heavy with delectable treats, and scattered. Jack grabbed the bags and counted 10 bags. He repeated this with a group of third graders and hit the jackpot, 25 bags of candy. But he wasn’t satisfied, he wanted more. He jumped out when he saw a group of freshman and met his fate. One boy punched Jack in the stomach, while another held him in a chokehold. A girl walked up and snatched the glasses off his faced and stepped on them with her Mary Janes. Jack could hear the sirens of the police cars growing closer. He knew it was too late.
Freddie, who had a modest 10 bags of candy, saw this and decided to make a run for it. He took off through the ally that was next to his bush, only to find the police at the end of the ally. They apprehended him and told him that Daniel was found dead in a dumpster. Unless he gave up their plan, they would charge him with murder.
“Frederick James Jones, what the hell are you doing here?” Freddie’s mother shouted as she made her way to his cell.
“You had better tell them everything you know, you fucking twit!” His father demanded as he stood in front of Freddie’s cell.
“That’s just it, Dad. I don’t know what happened to him. We were just gonna take candy bags, that’s all.”
“What is this about you planning the crime? That is what the Cuban boy’s lawyer is saying.” His father exclaimed, barely able to hold back his anger.
“Dad, I didn’t do it,” Freddie tried to explain
“What the fuck ever, you pathological liar! You can rot in here for all I care; you are too much of an expense anyway!” He father screamed and walked away with his mother, who was sobbing.
And it was the talk of the town. They never did forget the disbandment of the troublesome trio. Jack went back to Miami, cleared of all charges; Freddie got life in prison; Daniel was dead, or so they thought…