That entire spiel about Zachary and Monika making out in the back of Mr. Righteous's truck was true.

It was an ironic family name, really– and it was worse that it the only family heirloom aside from that seemed to be an asshole-ish and douchey attitude. That was what the rest of the town thought about them: they were white trash with plenty of money.

Zachary Righteous was just living up to that reputation.

He was 15 and barely a virgin. With his good looks and athletic build, it was easy for people to come to the conclusion he was only a virgin because of his attitude... now, in his defense, he was better than the majority of his classmates. Some of them had already gone to "juvy" for heavy drugs, or screwed someone by the time they were twelve...However, Zachary still had his fair share of kisses... and plenty of tongue to go right along with that.

It would have been hilarious for his friends to see how worked-up he was right now.

"Zachary, are you sure that you had your wallet with you?" Mrs. Righteous asked, checking underneath the La-Z-Boy couches and lifting up every pillow humanly possible. She even debated as to whether or not she should go on her hands and knees and check the floor a few more times. "What do you need it for, anyway?"

"I just wanted to go across the street and buy some shit," the hormonal teenage boy said. Mrs. Righteous cleared his throat after a moment, indicating that 'that language is not allowed under this roof,' although Zachary brushed it off as nothing whatsoever. He just wanted his cigs.

"Where'd you have it last?" She said that just as she hit her head on the marble coffee table, though even after she let out an 'ouch,' the (Italian) music was still blaring out in the backyard.

"I had it in my pocket," Zachary replied. "I swear to god that it was in there... Ah, fuck! I had at least a hundred bucks!"

While Mrs. Righteous continued her way around the kitchen, her hands (one of which had become the home to an enormous, nickel-sized diamond ring– she hadn't taken it off since the proposal) continued to lift up whatever was in her range of sight, and she seemed to care more about finding the wallet than her own son did...

But that was mostly because he just realized where his wallet had gone. It was with his brother... and his money just swirled around before plummeting down the drain.

"Shit... I'm going to kill that motherfucker!" he shouted. That earned him a couple of glares from the family members mingling around him, most of which were middle-aged women huddled around the table (that Mrs. Righteous had just gotten up from), and Zachary couldn't care less. Before his own mother had time to stop him, he stormed right out of the house to find 'the little twerp.'

There are a few things to get straight here.
1. Zachary Righteous would not actually kill his brother
2. Tommy Righteous, however, did actually spend Zachary's money
3. Both were in for a major beat down from the woman that birthed them

The very first place that he checked was the arcade. He knew his brother well enough to understand that the arcade is the exact place that he would go—at least, to spend money.

He rose his bike the fastest at moments like these. Knowing Tommy well enough, he had pulled little money-draining stunts multiple times, so checking the arcade became a habitual reaction to things like these.

He was quite the reckless driver. He was close to doing quite a few things: running over a handful of small children, crashing into a line of shopping carts (which were, for some reason, meticulously placed for him to run into right outside of 'Mr. M's Department Store'), or breaking every bone in Madame Dubois's petite, fragile, old-lady self. Zachary only narrowly escaped doing all of those things.

He put on the brakes hard enough for the bike wheels to squeak, and as if it was the only way for them to express some form of pain, they left some wispy black lines of rubbery debris upon the ground. It was a surprise that Zachary hadn't thrown himself off of the bike in the process. It was probably because of the death grip that he had on both of the handles (which turned his knuckles white... in a way, he was doing it to take his anger out on Tommy without actually being there to do so).

He stormed right into the arcade, almost like he was an angry parent trying to pull of the door to their kid's room to give them a spanking or... something.

He paused when he realized that he would have to wait in line. The attendance of the arcade seemed to triple after the four kids left, and therefore, he would actually have to wait until he could get a word in with the pizza-faced clerk. That guy, who could easily be identified as Samuel Siller (if he ever faced the register), was clad in his red vest and doing a horrible job. The Galaga machine's flashing lights reflected off of his eyes, and he gave even less than a half-assed effort to assist the customers still filing into his line... after all—watching Galaga was far more important than his own job.

After getting at least four kids' drink orders wrong and giving out an endless amount of sweets, Samuel finally got to speak with Zachary...

And yes.

He was still pissed.

"Hey, have you seen a little punk around here?" Zachary spat. He did so coolly, though—simply because he was trying to be nice to the guy to get an answer out of him—but after a brief glance around the arcade, he realized that the term 'little punk' could be used to describe just about anyone there. Hell, he waited in a line full of them– whether they were little kids holding the hands of their parents or teenagers who still hadn't gotten over their video game craze, there was enough to nearly wind around the desk.... So giving the description of 'a little punk' did nothing but hold the line up. Surprisingly, Zachary was smart enough to go on and explain more precisely what he was talking about.

"He's about this tall," he started, placing a flattened hand up to his chest (which was currently covered by a large logo of a band that he was supposed to be a part of). He had gotten a particular stare from a teenager behind him, whose sunken eyes, hollowed face, and heavy eyeliner indicated that he was definitely still in that sort of phase. "And he's wearing some denim that's way too big for him and looks like a dress... He's got this really ugly face, and I'm pretty sure he's–"

"Sorry, haven't seen him."

"Excuse me?" Zachary asked. His fists rested against the polished wood that was supposed to be a desk. Samuel turned around, seeming to make eye contact with someone for the very first time during his career at Coinstop, and he gave a smile that was so overly-happy that it could only be described as fake.

"I said, 'sorry, I haven't seen him.' There's been 'little punks' running around in denim all day... So are you going to buy something or just stand here and hold up the rest of the line?"

The thing about Samuel Siller was that he definitely had some balls... and with that came dumb decisions. He was so dumb, in fact, that he didn't even realize that what he said would earn him a spot on Zachary righteous' kill list (aka, the list of people he would ruin the social life of– even though Samuel Siller was a solid two years older than he was).

Zachary's jaw clenched. Poor Samuel Siller had just given himself a ticket right onto the train of social suicide, and he could just about kiss his job at the arcade 'goodbye.'

"I don't have any money on me. Enjoy the rest of your day," Zachary said. The grin on his face could only be described as something sinister. There were two possible reasons– either he was planning the hundreds of ways that he could ruin that acne-faced clerk's life, or he was simply trying to smile so sarcastically that it came off as hostile and aggressive...

It was probably both of the above.

Zachary Righteous stormed out of the building, murmuring 'what a fag' under his breath as he busted through the double doors and stomped right out. Perhaps he would have felt just a little happier if he knew that this really was Samuel Siller's last day on the job... Sure, while his bad attitude and lack of enthusiasm may have had something to do with it, the real problem was that he would be reported as missing the next day. He'd be found in a ditch a long afterward, with his insides missing and his eyes yanked from right out of their sockets.

All anyone in that damned town could do was pray that they weren't next.