Operation "Purrfluffin"

Aaron sat on a branch of a tall maple tree, acting as a lookout. The old, rough bark pressed against his thigh, but he stayed silent, hidden among the green leaves. Aaron stared directly at the path below, where joggers ran and neighborhood bullies headed to the kissing stone, where they smoked zaza and drank beers with their girlfriends. He had been up there for over an hour, but his focus was unwavering. He was there for revenge.

When he saw Brad casually walking down the path in his Lakers jersey and shorts, he pulled out an old walkie-talkie with cracked blue plastic and signaled, “The bird is on its way, be ready. Over.”

“Roger, over,” soon came a reply from Daniel, hiding further down the forest path with Joey. The boys have been planning the operation “Plurrfluffin” for a while, but the last straw that broke the camel’s back was when Brad shot Aaron’s cat with a BB gun. Poor Mr. Whiskers had to be taken to the vet while Aaron’s mom kept telling her crying son that it was not a big deal, not big enough to confront Brad’s father, who was the head of their HOA. But it was a deal for the gang of school outcasts, four years younger than Brad. They all loved Mr. Whiskers.

As soon as Brad passed by the tree where Aaron had set up his reconnaissance position, the boy started carefully climbing down so as not to draw the bully’s attention. Yet, luck was not on his side that day, and a treacherous branch closer to the base of the tree gave way with a loud crack. Brad looked bad, his face screwed in a grimace of amusement.

“The fuck you’re doing in the tree, you little turd?” he said, laughing.

Aaron looked around, assessing the shitiness of his situation. He needed to get past Brad and guide him to Joey and Daniel.

“Catch me, numbnuts,” he yelled with a defiant squeal and ran around the baffled Brad. The bully tried to grab the boy but failed. The chase ensued, and soon they reached the spot where Daniel and Joey were sitting in the bushes, wide-eyed. Aaron carefully jumped over the trap laid out on the path, but Brad overlooked a surprisingly flat section of the dirt path. He stepped on it with the weight of his one-hundred-plus pounds of stupidity, and the sticks covering the hole cracked. Brad fell and landed on a bed of hay and a ton of cat shit that Aaron had secretly collected for weeks. Joey, Daniel, and Aaron jumped up triumphantly, yelled “Operation Plurrfluffin, asshole!” and ran away.