It had been a wild night. Most nights were wild for Buddy Owen and his bros but in search of some extra spice they had decided to leave their Filton haven, depart the Chapter House and head on in to City Main.
Buddy was excited. “We’re gonna fuck shit up!”
His Kappa So Frat brother, Cooper, was already on his phone looking for the best spot.
“What about the Diamond Lounge?” he suggested. “The casino?”
Buddy grinned. He already had an idea of in his head of what they’re weekend was to bring. He was high on cocaine already and with a pocket full of singles the casino was a good start.
“A lot of Loyalists go there,” Chad stated. “Let’s go make some new friends.”
The loyalists of City Main were the support of Reginald Penn of the Penn Auction House. He called himself the King of Main and for that Buddy decided someone should put things in perspective for him. He and his weirdo triplet sons had long been a headache to the Owen family. A family heirloom falling into the Penn’s hands had caused a deeply rooted feud.
“The Loyalists are all pussies, brah,” said Buddy.
By the time the bros arrived at the Diamond Lounge they were euphoric with powder and alcohol. Buddy’s reddening eyes burned under the glare of the harsh lights.
“I’m cleaning this place out” Buddy announced his arrival. “Get me some booze and bitches,” he requested at a casino worker. Chad lowered the Brad Schroeder branded sunglasses he still wore even though they were now indoors.
“Kappa So is in the house,” he exclaimed.
The casino worker did not need to be told this. It was very much evident by their full-on attitude and the Kappa So jackets they wore. She left to fetch but it wasn’t bitches or booze.
Buddy looked around. He wished they didn’t have to have such harsh lights. The racket from the slot machines was irritating where a line of geriatrics were feeding them with coins. It was quieter than it had been the last time Buddy and the bros had been in. Then again it was only four thirty in the afternoon. This didn’t ease Buddy’s disappointment though. Where were the girls clad in Diamonte bikinis the ads offered? Why were the craps tables crowded by coffin dodgers? And where the fuck was the bitches and booze so he could get his weekend started?
“It looks like care home in here,” Buddy commented. “Are they playing bingo? What the fuck Coops?”
Cooper shrugged. It wasn’t really living up to his last visit to the casino either, at least what he remembered of it. The ads claimed to be the hottest spot in City Main. Issac Bergman who ran the casino wasn’t living up to his end of the bargain. It wasn’t supposed to be the hottest spot for the pension patrol. Chad was already helping a giddy old woman to a seat at a vacant puggy.
“Fuck it,” Buddy decided. “I’m winning something.”
Barging his way into a roulette table he dropped his money down.
“Chip me,” he demanded.
The casino worker raised her finger to her ear. The cameras were watching. The advice she was receiving was to exchange the money for chips as she would for any other customer. The powers that be were watching closely though.
“Red twelve,” Buddy threw some of the chips he was given down.
The wheel was spun. The bet was not met.
A little exasperated Buddy threw more chips down. “Red twelve,” he bet again.
The wheel spun a second time. Black fifteen.
Buddy scowled at the casino worker as she raked the chips away from him. He wasn’t giving in so easily so he took one last attempt. “Red twelve,” he requested again.
The whir of the wheel and the click as it slowed again was almost as irritating as the damn coins dropping from the slot machine two living fossils wearing what looked like tea cosies on their heads were celebrating over.
“Black thirty three.”
Buddy raged. His disappointment peaked. He hated the lounge and he hated losing. The weekend of debauchery he had planned was starting to suck. “You Jew mother fuckers!” Buddy raged. “This game is rigged.”
No one had explained the laws of probability to the son of the Owen Inc. CEO. The racial slur was directed towards the Bergmans who owned the lounge. Issac should have known better. He was a Kappa So brother too.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
More coins started dropping from the slots.
The bros carried on with getting their night in Main started. It was looking quite positive until they heard a grumpy old man yell, “Keep it down, arseholes.”
The bros ignored it. If they paid attention to old people telling them to keep it down they’d never get anything done.
Buddy cheered when he won a spin on the roulette wheel. His powder high made him extra exhuberant and he could swear the casino girl was giving him the ‘I need to bone you right now, eye.’ For the casino girl it was more of a, ‘just how much powder have you snorted?’ eye. The boning eye and the drug disapproval eye tended to get mix up for Buddy.
“Keep it down,” an old man holding a single solitary chip barked at the excitable bros.
Buddy groaned. As he turned to see the old man he started to laugh. “I’ll be damned! He looks like what would happen if a bull dog fucked a turtle. Look at the glasses!” He pulled the man’s glasses off and put them on. Glaring at him through the corrective lenses he said, “get outta ma face old timer. You’re weirding me out.”
Cooper took note of how large the lenses made Buddy’s eyes when The Kappa So chapter leader turned to his bro. “Brah, you gotta try these. They’re better than pills.” Through the glasses he started to look around the casino at the odd shapes created by the tables and machines and the lighting caused by the bright colours.
As Chad and Buddy tried on the glasses and glared as though they were tripping Cooper suggested, “Maybe we should go somewhere else, brah?” The amount of old folk in the casino was starting to make him think of a zombie movie. Ever since he watched a terrible B movie called The Dead Walk he had been weirded out by too many old people in the place at once.
Buddy pushed the spectacles to the top of his head, shoving the old man away. “I’m not going anywhere. I got myself a fight with the Jews. They killed Jesus you know…”
Whilst Buddy’s voice could be heard above all the machines and Chad was trying to start some kind of mosh pit with the bingo players, from the manager’s office he had seen the triplet sons of Reginald Penn emerge. There was Marcus, a bespectacled, menacing young man with a long fair pony tail. Beside him was his brother Simon, better known as Punchline Penn. He was a professional boxer and reputedly a very angry young man.
“Must have a tiny cock,” Buddy had decided when he learned of this. “He’d only be that pissed off all the time if he had a tiny cock.”
Finally there was Reggie. He was the youngest of the three by a few minutes. He was the most vibrant of them and he looked the least interested in whatever business had brought them to the casino. He was busy looking to his phone.
“Well if it isn’t the whackos. What they doing here?” Buddy wondered.
Hearing Buddy’s voice rise above the others it had been Simon Penn who noticed the old man reaching out to get his spectacles back. Buddy was enjoying the trip looking through the lenses was giving him.
“You’ll get your turn, brah,” he told the old man waving his hands in front of his face and seeing his fingers grow really long. It was better than heether mushrooms.
The Kappa So uniform suggested a more ridiculous confrontation than even a Stoker Circus jacket would hint. The blonde hair of Buddy’s and his square set jaw confirmed an Owen on site.
“One of the mutants is causing a scene,” Simon said to Marcus. Marcus looked over and noted the old man trying to retrieve his glasses. He was now clutching at Cooper’s arm not really able to see properly. They decided to approach and intervene. No matter the location and no matter its owner, no hassle was allowed in City Main where the King reigned and his prince sons were around to keep order.
Marcus approached. Simon followed. Still not looking up from his phone Reggie was at their backs.
“I think the gentleman wants his glasses back,” said Marcus. “I give you only one warning.”
Buddy hadn’t expected to be confronted by the triplets so eagerly within the casino setting. Without saying anything the casino worker had departed her table. The cameras were still watching. Buddy couldn’t let his chest deflate too much. His coke high was beginning to wear off. He couldn’t help but take note of Marcus’ nostrils, just aching for a line. It was then he noticed all their nostrils were the same. Fucking weird. That meant they all must have tiny cocks.
Buddy pulled the glasses back over his eyes. The distorted view of the triplets hadn’t been quite what he had expected. It reminded him of a really bad trip where he was plagued by talking trees.
“We’re just playing, brah,” said Buddy.
“Yeah!” Chad confirmed enthusiastically. “Just a game, brah.”
Reggie had stored his phone away by this point. It was like they were deciding among themselves using some kind of triplet telepathic powers which one was going to have the joy of smacking the grin from Buddy Owen’s face. It turned out it was Reggie who won the coin toss. He pulled the glasses from Buddy, snatched his ear and with a sharp tug sent him falling to the floor. Marcus stepped on his chest. Before Cooper could intervene Simon had pushed him back with a shove to his solar plexus. Reggie gave the glasses back to the old man. He affixed them again and gave a swift kick at the bro.
“Ya arsehole!” He barked before storming off.
“Alright, let him up.” Finally someone had arrived on scene. A long featured, pale looking man wearing a black waistcoat with a diamond logo.
Marcus stepped off of him.
Casino owner Issac Bergman pulled Buddy to his feet.
“This ain’t over,” said Chad. “We’re gonna raise some tiny dick awareness for you.”
Reggie scowled. “Come at me and I’ll just drop you on your ass too, like.”
“Get out. The whole lot of you.” Issac barked.
Marcus nodded to his brothers. They had made their point. The bros? Well, they decided the party was better off taken elsewhere. It seemed he had to take that matter into his own hands and deal with the triplet beeatches.
“Thrown out by a brother,” Buddy was reiterating their treatment by Isaac Bergman. “Got a good mind to fuck his shit up. You don’t turn your back on a bro.”
Chad fell into excited planning mode. “We go in there, we wreck the casino and we piss all over the floor.”
Buddy and Coops looked at him. They didn’t know why but pissing on the floor seemed to be the most important part of his plan.
“There’s cameras everywhere,” Cooper reminded them.
He didn’t have to complete the sentence. Buddy’s father could be a little sensitive about the fraternity. He was especially sensitive when it came to anything involving the Penns. If he found out that Buddy was responsible in any way for making his dealings with Reginald any more difficult, he wouldn’t be forgiving.
“What if the Penns wreck it?” Chad continued his planning. “Then the elders are going to be pissed at them.”
“How do we get them to do that?” Asked Buddy. He was liking the sound of it but he needed his bro to hand out some more of the details.
“Duh!” Chad gasped. “We dress up to look like them.”
The other two nodded like it was the most brilliantly obvious plan in the world.
“You know Chad, you can be a bit of a genius sometimes. It’s like you’re a scientist or some shit. Those damn misfits don’t know who they messing with.”
Admiring his handy work in the mirror Buddy adjusted the cap over his feathery, blonde mass of hair that was supposed to give him the shaved head look of Simon Penn. In his black T-shirt and jeans – signature of the loyalists of Main – he would sure fool them.
The door opened. Buddy turned.
“No way!” He cried. Cooper had also adorned the cap to look like Simon. “You were supposed to be the spooky one!” Buddy complained. “Where’s the glasses and the rapey ponytail?”
The door opened again. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. We can’t all be Simple Simon!”
Chad too had opted to dress as the middle triplet.
“Does it matter?” asked Chad.
“Of course it matters,” insisted Buddy. “If we’re all the same one it’s going to look fucking stupid.” He looked to Cooper as though to ask, ‘can you believe this guy?’
Cooper was shaking his head as though to answer ‘no.’
“I’ll be the spooky one since I’m the leader. Madman Marcus or whateva’ he’s called. Coops you be simple simon because you’ve got the bod. I do too but I’m a bit out of swimming season.”
Chad groaned. “Does that mean I need to be the retard?”
“Yes, it does,” informed Buddy.
With the blonde ponytail and glasses, the cap and the wild frizzy wig (that was just a Stoker clown wig sprayed yellow) the bros were dressed and ready for their great heist.
They looked at each other. Buddy couldn’t help but laugh. The things they could do dressed as the triplets had his rather imaginative mind clambering for ideas.
“Triplet powers activate!”
They gave a leaping high five.
Meanwhile, at the Penn Auction House, Reginald Penn was overlooking the damage accompanied by his sons.
“Those Hill Billy cunts!” Reginald was growling.
The previous night someone had tried to drive a four by four into the Auction House. Luckily the fortified structure of the building hadn’t let them get very far. The small army of loyalists who had been on hand to guard it had drove them off before any real trouble could start.
“They were giving some trouble at ‘Diamond’,” explained Reggie. “They were thrown out and so were we.”
Reginald thought about it. It was time to address the Cappy directly.
“You will compensate for the damage your boys have caused,” Reginald insisted.
Still in his office in the Great States, Charles ‘Chick’ Owen held the King of Main’s gaze.
“You have no proof that my boys had anything to do with it. So might I suggest, sir, that you throw your accusations elsewhere.”
No proof perhaps. All that was seen by Reginald’s own team were three grown men dressed as parody’s of the triplets. The one imitating Reggie throwing rubber rats at them. He knew, however, it was Buddy and his bros. The Cappy knew too but pride would prevent him from admitting it.
“I suggest that if your boys come into my area I will cut their fucking balls off. If they come near my Auction House again I’ll send them back in boxes.”
The Cappy glared. “I will warn them. However, you will offer the same courtesy and tell your progeny that if he ever touches my son or any of my brothers there will be consequences.”
The call was ended. As predicted the long held feud escalated. Now the threats of violence were in the air.
The following morning gave for a huge headache. As Buddy began to come around he realised he had fallen asleep on the Kappa So Chapter House lawn. Someone turned beside him and laid his arm across his chest.
“Morning Bud,” Chad said sweetly.
“Aaaaah!” Buddy screamed. “I can feel your morning wood against me.”
He rolled over and he was offered a close up of Cooper’s face.
“Morning Bud,” Cooper said.
Buddy sat up. “What the fuck happened last night?” He finally thought to ask when he realised none of them were wearing trousers. Chad was wearing diving fins. Cooper’s feet were covered in cream. Buddy was wearing a pair of sneakers. That wasn’t so bad. Although when his eyes continued to adjust to sobriety he realised they were royal blue sneakers with black trimming. They had either been stolen from a Coldford City player or a Penn.
“I think I’m being called home,” Cooper said.
Buddy lay back on the grass. “Don’t listen to it Coops. Stay alive, brah.”
“No I mean I think I can hear my phone.”
Urging themselves to stand they could finally take in some of the debris left on the lawn from the last nights escapade. There was a Bobby’s lunch box sign, a whole collection of Kappa Si cheer leader uniforms one of them size XXXXL and a Cooper four by four which had left track marks on the lawn and was now totalled against the wall.
‘Wait?’ Buddy thought. ‘Was that the sign from the Auction House?’ He couldn’t read it properly. Whatever he had been taking the night before was leaving him with some blurry vision. When the blurriness suddenly dropped away, he realised it was because he was wearing spectacles not prescribed to him.
“What the fuck?”
Cooper had followed the noise of his phone and he managed to find it among a cow pat.
“Coops brah, you better check the bro cam.”
With so many lost nights the bros had decided to fit themselves with pro cams. The footage automatically uploaded to Cooper’s phone and it made for some interesting memories.
Wiping the bull shit away Cooper was happy to find his phone as good as new. He checked the bro cam. First there were the photos. A photo of Chad’s ‘Reggie’ fingering the backside of a rubber rat. A photo of Cooper’s Simon humping a donkey. A photo of Buddy’s Marcus with nipple tassels. Then there was the video footage.
“Triplets assemble!” Called Buddy as Marcus.
The other two leapt into frame. Cooper as Simon was scowling dramatically. Chad was still fingering the rat.
The next alert was a message from The Cappy.
HAVE BUDDY CALL ME IMMEDIATELY.
The bros are certainly in trouble this time. It is the Hickes Agency, better known as the Good Gang that are on their tail. September 18th we’re off to the Great States on an adventure!
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