I am Xeros, The Black Streak: Bane of all Males and Deflowerer of Virgins. That’s not what my folks call me, of course, but fuck them.
I jumped up onto the top of the wall and set about washing my ears (avoiding the scars from the fight last year) - nonchalantly, because you never know who’s watching. I was wondering where I would dine tonight; the food’s usually Ok at home, but they’re away on holiday and the teenage girl they’ve got looking after me is a waste of space; she’s forgotten to put my food out twice this week already. No, it’ll be number 25, I think you have to watch for the bastard poodle, but the grub’s worth it.
I paused in mid ear-wash and looked around; a door had opened down the road. It was Tommy, that boy from the house on the end. It had been his brother’s eighteenth birthday on Monday and the waste bin yesterday had contained wonderful things. I must have put on a few pounds from that.
My ears flattened for a moment as a fox dashed off from that very same bin. You have to be careful of those buggers, though one look at me is usually enough to send them packing - I am not a pretty sight when I’m feeling aggressive.
I flicked my tail and looked down. I must be getting old: I hadn’t noticed someone else walking quietly, the other side of the wall. There were two of them. They were keeping in the shadows and trying to be very quiet. Leather jackets and jeans. And they had ski masks on. I looked back at Tommy, then at these other two; this was interesting, I thought: it looked like there was going to be an Encounter.
The wall I was on has the street on one side, and a factory yard on the other. It’s dark there at night, and the grass is mostly hardened mud. You get the occasional mouse or vole, but it’s usually not worth bothering with. The two guys were waiting, pressed against the end of my wall, hiding. As Tommy walked past, they ran out behind him, grabbed him - gagging him with a hand - and dragged him back round the end and into the yard. There was a minor scuffle, but it didn’t last long they’d brought ropes or handcuffs or something and soon they had him tied up with tape over his eyes and mouth.
One of my balls itched, so I licked it. Ah, relief.
When I looked down again they were dragging him towards a van that was parked at the end of the yard. They couldn’t have been very good with the duct tape because one side had come off his mouth.
“For fuck’s sake! Stop it! You’ve got the wrong guy!” He spluttered. “It’s my brother you’re supposed to get!”
They stopped. “What?” One of them said.
“Terry! My brother! He’s the one who wanted kidnapping. Not me!”
There was a pause.
“For fuck’s sake yes! It was me who arranged it. For his eighteenth. He’s the pervert.”
There was another pause. “You really sure?”
“Ah.” There was another pause. “Well. Sorry mate.”
They released him and dusted him down apologetically. After a few minutes of more quiet conversation that I didn’t bother listening to, Tommy shook his head and resumed his walk. Muttering, the two guys went back to the van and sat in it.
I padded along the wall, jumped down and wandered off in the direction of number 25, keeping an eye out for the poodle.