There they sat, three feet away from each other, texting each other. EE peered over their shoulders, trying to read.
LOL ROFL! LOL LOL LOL!
That settled it, then. EE hefted the book, an autographed copy of _Milton’s Guide to Garden Slugs_, and smashed Stacey’s head before she could finish another ROFL. Ezra didn’t even notice, not until he received a hefty dose of concussion as well. It was a bit late by then.
“What are you doing, EE?”
EE spun around, book in hand, then sighed. “Justice, Officer Cobb, only justice.”
Officer Cobb noted the two unconscious teens and scratched his chin. “True, but how am I going to explain this to the department when I get around to reporting it? Justice doesn’t cut it. Poetic, justice, maybe, but I don’t see any poems, either.”
EE smirked. “The dedication reads: Roses are red, Violets are blue, Dearest EE, this book’s to you.”
The officer’s eyebrows danced. “You’ve got a book on garden slugs… dedicated to you?”
EE snorted. “Of course not. I didn’t want to get the real cover bloody, even though it is the perfect weight for swinging.” He eased off the false cover to reveal _____, ____’s newest book, then paused. “I hear texting. Bad texting.”
“Isn’t it all? But maybe you could—” He stopped and sighed; EE was already gone, out the window like so much smoke.
Officer Cobb looked again at Stacey and Ezra and left them where they were; they’d be fine in the morning, though they’d have killer headaches. Gathering their cell phones, he left the room. “Honey,” he called.
“I think it’s time to reduce our kids’ texting plan.”