“Jesus,” Jay Carling enthused, “That’s the greatest half-pipe I’ve ever committed to film…” He aimed the JVC camcorder towards his airborne best buddy Ricky Gordon, as he flipped and propelled his skateboard and somersaulted twice than thrice through the air, above Cheese Dip Skater Park in this tiny district of Birmingham in the UK.
Out of breath, and still on his skateboard, Ricky drew to a sharp halt beside his friend, grinning, and gestured for Jay to pass him a chilled can of beer out of the backpack by his feet. “Man,” he said, “Look at me, mate—the sweat is pissing out of me…just pass me an ice-cold Fosters and I’m happy for the day!”
Giggling insanely, Jay obliged whilst grabbing one, too.
Together, they slurped the best Australian lager ever canned and chewed on sweet homemade flapjack, loaded with extra honey and a mixture of varied chewy seeds and soft nuts, concocted by 18-year-old Jay’s mum this morning before they set off out into the city on the train.
One thing, though, that Jay despised about his friend Ricky, was his continued interest in Jay’s girlfriend, Sandra Mays, since at 18 like both them, she was the hottest babe and blond-haired vixen studying at their college. A girl who was so scatty and dippy, she was also a girl that could never make her mind up as regards to who exactly was her official boyfriend at any given time. Currently, Jay liked to believe it was him—they held hands, they kissed, they screwed—and Hell, she was the greatest fuck in the world!
She used her tongue expertly, as well—and had the power and suction of a Dyson vacuum cleaner. What more could a boy ask for? And apart from this, at weekends, she caught the train to London, where she went for photo-shoots making a little money as a fashion model for various top-end firms based in the capital.
But Ricky was overstepping the mark lately and Jay was understandably jealous of him showing her all that uncalled-for attention—and even the attention Sandra reciprocated when, say, they went to the movies, did a little window shopping in town, or the many times they’d go clubbing and dancing…yes, dancing… she sometimes wanted to dance with Ricky, and her official boyfriend Jay just sat there in a corner of the room with his Guinness and Black, bored shitless on his own amid the thunderous noise of House and Trance beats.
Everything centred on inner-city dance-floors in this era. The very order of the day (or night) was House Music and Trance…It was all teenagers listened to, at least when they were not indoors (usually upstairs) playing their Xbox One, shooting zombies, or driving along Miami beachfronts in fast cars, searching for arms-dealers or drug-dealers to shoot or mow down and leave by the roadside before moving on to the next big challenge—more of the damned same—every time.
Jay and Ricky played their share of videogames, it was true to say. It was 2017—who didn’t?
Kids would kill nowadays for a brand-new Xbox game, make no mistake. From 9 years upwards, many girls and boys wished to dominate the planet, and bloodily execute any of those poor fuckers that happened to stumble along or get in their way of obtaining certain power.
But Jay had suffered enough.
He surprised Ricky by saying, “I poisoned your flapjack with arsenic. I’m sick of you hitting on my girl. Sandra loves me and nobody else, and especially not a dork like you…someone about to die and no longer pose as a threat, not to me, and not to my girlfriend. When Sandra and I leave college, I’m going to ask her to marry me. I’ll get a job; she’ll start modelling full-time and make loads of money, and we’ll travel around the world, live in luxury, and we’ll have kids, lots of kids…and some cats and dogs.”
Grinning crookedly, Ricky said, “You’re fucking deluded, pal. Sandra is her own girl and once she grows bored with you she’ll move on to the next sucker. Oh yeah, she’s good-looking and a very fine specimen, but you’ve heard that beauty is only skin-deep? And that’s exactly the case with her…she’ll give you your overwhelming blowjobs at this very time, yes, but only until she yearns for another cock. Then, believe me my friend, she will move onto the next…”
“You’re talking through your arse, Ricky. We’re in love and it will last forever.” Tears welled in Jay’s eyes, and he added after a rough swallow that hurt his throat, “Besides, I just went and poisoned you, old friend… you won’t be around for much longer to see anything transpire between Sandra and me, whether it works out for us or not. You’ll be six feet under and rotting away in a grave.”
“What would you say if I second-guessed a prick like you and switched the flapjacks? And that it was I all along who planned on doing a creepy rat like you in? I’ve thought about doing it for a long while. I’m growing sick of your jealousy, your slurs about Sandra and other boys…boys, like you and me, that are screwing the arse off her most nights of the fucking week—whilst SANDRA LOVES EVERY SECOND OF IT!”
“You switched the flapjack?”
Ricky chuckled as he surveyed the vicinity. His eyes widened as he spotted a figure approaching from the distance. “Oh look,” he said, “Here’s Sandra coming over…” He waved his hand dramatically to attract her attention, which he did and she waved back, her perfectly white teeth visible from even this distance. He yelled, “Hi, Sandra—over here!”
Jay was resolute and determined as he picked up his skateboard. “If I’m about to die, I’ll hit my very last half-pipe…my idea of Heaven. Tell that bitch we’re finished…I don’t want sloppy seconds off anyone, least of all that slut!”
Ricky said, “She’s not a slut, Jay. She just likes screwing around. For example, I take my turn tonight. I’ll be thinking of you with every pump I make.”
 Jay skated away as Sandra entered the park through the gates across the expanse of concrete. Ricky watched Jay skate away. He felt saddened. He’d lost his best friend—the best friend who was about to poison him today—so not such a best friend after all. But despite everything, he figured he’d join the traitor for another skate. Another great half-pipe just to thrill his old buddy before he finally croaked. What a fantastic way to go, though—drifting on a greased skateboard. And it would be Ricky screwing the hottest chick in these parts tonight. So—out of deepest sympathy and goodwill for his oldest friend—Ricky wheeled over the concrete towards Jay to enjoy one last skate with him.
Sandra paused to marvel at their gift for navigating the concrete. It took some doing those stunts, flips, as well as the great speed they maintained. Just then she coughed and spluttered, as she lifted her hands to her throat in pain. Something wasn’t right. Her throat constricted and grew tighter. She looked down into her hands where she held the honey-filled slab of homemade flapjack. She realized to her abject horror and panic, the morsel was to blame. Little did Sandra know, she was experiencing the tell-tale signs indicative that the teen beauty had been poisoned—and she realized this as she collapsed to the ground. The arsenic worked quicker on some than others. Nobody had an easy run.
Karma was a bitch.

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