Perkins Brothers Repair Company - Part 4

Suddenly the phone began to ring, a harsh shrill that pierced the ears with a cheerful tone. The teacher promptly stood up and answered it, with a tired “Yes?” A few murmurs could be overheard then she stretched out her arm toward me. “It’s for you.”

Confused, I took the receiver from her and put it to my ear. “Hello?”

From the other end there was a short pause and slight clearing of the throat before the speaker erupted into gales of maniacal laughter. “Dearest repair companions, I know you are no doubt wondering who the mastermind behind the technologic travesty you’ve witnessed is. Well don’t bother looking for me, because you’ll never discover my true identity!” The voice had the higher-pitch of a teenager, and I had a sneaking suspicion it was the voice of our only suspect. It went on. “You’re also probably asking yourself how I know you’re on my trail. The answer to that is that I can see you. Oh yes! I am watching your every move, for I am omnipresent and I-“ It was at this point that I chanced a glance outside the nearest window. Through it I could clearly see a young boy talking passionately into a cell phone. Our eyes met and the voice on the phone hurriedly stammered, “Just give up!” and abruptly ended the call. The curtains over at the other house were whisked shut.

I let out a sigh as I put down the receiver. “Come on, Lloyd. Let’s go pay the neighbors a visit.”

Picking up our tools, we left the weary teacher to clean up her destroyed living room and walked briskly out the front door.

It was a nice day. The sun was partly obscured by clouds and a light breeze drifted down the street, rustling leaves as it went. Lloyd began whistling a jolly tune as we made our way off the front porch, across the lawn, and onto the sidewalk where we made our way to the homestead next door.

It was a nice house. Humble like all the others, and yet it seemed to have its own personality that they lacked. While the others were copy-paste middle income homes, this one was indeed unique with its pale orange exterior a subtle contrast against the surrounding white households.  I rang the doorbell, and we waited patiently until the door was swung open by not our suspected assailant, but rather a cheerful woman, who looked to be around my age. She wore a pleasantly blue apron, and her hands were covered up to her elbow with what appeared to be flour. She even had some of the powder caked onto her cheek and in her hair. At first she gave us a look of surprise, but it was quickly replaced with a warm smile.

“Hiya, boys. What can I do for you?”

Lloyd piped up. “Are you Mrs. Barkley?”

“It’s Miss Barkley, but you can call me Allie.”

“Well Allie, we’re terribly sorry to disturb you, but we need to talk to your son.”

“Oh, he’s not in trouble again is he?”

“He very well might be.”

Allie’s eyes turned to me, then down at her hands embarrassed. “Sorry I’m such a mess, I’ve been making a ton of shortbread for a local bake sale…” She blushed and motioned us inside. “Why don’t you two come in, I’ll get cleaned up and you can talk to Mark.”

We followed her inside. The house was cozy and the sweet smell of baked goods drifted through the house creating a warm atmosphere. Not exactly the dark cold dungeon one would expect from their evil nemesis. Allie pulled out two chairs at a dining table, and we sat down obediently while she opened a door revealing stairs that presumably led into the basement and yelled down them, “Mark, come up here this instant! Some men are here to talk to you!”

Lloyd and I both had our ears perked up, and we heard the faint reply. “Mother, you foolish woman, they’re here to arrest me!”

She shouted back, “Oh don’t be silly. Now get up here this instant!”

“But mother-“

“One…”

“I can’t just-“

“TWO…”

“Ugh, fine!” We heard something being slammed down, then loud deliberate stomping as the boy made his way up the stairs.

Allie was busy washing the flour off her hands when the teenager’s lanky form emerged from the doorway. He had the pale white complexion of a shut-away and unnaturally black hair that hung low over his face. His eyes were wide and he was breathing heavily, but I couldn’t tell if he was angry or afraid. We exchanged intense stares of awkwardness as he moseyed over and plopped down in the chair across from me.

The kid crossed his arms and smirked. I resisted the urged to get up and smack him upside the head. “So we finally meet.” He gloated as if we were long standing rivals, but I’m sure neither of us had heard of the other until that morning.

I attempted to start my lecture, “Mark, have you-“

“You can’t arrest me!” he blurted out. “You’re not even cops!”

Lloyd shot him a burning glare that would cause a charging elephant to hesitate. “You interrupt again and I’ll smack you upside the head.” Great minds think alike, I suppose.

Mark threw his hands up in a partly sarcastic surrender. “Ok, sheesh. Calm down.”

I spoke in a soft tone, “We know you’ve been uploading viruses to the lawn mowers of your teachers.”

Mark snickered, “Heh, wouldn’t know anything about that, sir.”

“Listen punk,” Lloyd growled. “Whenever chumps like you go around screwing with people’s crap, we’re the ones that have to go around cleaning up your mess. So why don’t you cut your attitude and leave the fiddling to the professionals.”

Mark was getting visibly enraged by now, and his entire personality seemed to shift. “How dare you speak to me in that tone, you wretch!” Gone was the cocky and sarcastic teenager, his behavior began to resemble that of a cliché villain. “Can your miniscule brain not comprehend that which sits before you? I am the Neon Vamp Lord, technological hellion and master of automatons!” he yelled, slamming his fist against the table.

Allie’s head peeked around the corner with a stern expression. “Markie, you better watch your tone. And don’t hit the table like that, you’ll knock something over.”

Lloyd and I exchanged glances of utter bemusement.

“Enough of this.” Mark stood up and pointed across the table at us. “Remove yourselves from my dwelling or face the horrid consequences.”

Lloyd stood up as well. “We’re not leaving until-“

“THEN DIE!” Mark shouted as he pulled a remote from his pocket and pressed a button. We could hear a sharp whirring noise, which was followed by several silver flying bats whizzing out of the basement behind him, their gnashing metal fangs headed right for us.