“Back up!” Narendra barked, “Everybody back up!” The bulbous little man waved his arms above the swarming pack of children, eagerly reaching out for his attention. He was clad in a bright, unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, revealing a skinny gold chain and a white t-shirt. Narendra leaned out of the window of the ice cream truck and pointed his fat finger at the crowd, “Now listen up! I ain’t gonna say it again; if you ain’t got no money, get your broke self outta my line!”
The mass of children began to disassemble as some shuffled off while others found their place in what quickly became a line in front of the Grandma’s Old Fashioned Ice Cream truck. Narendra bared a sharp smile as a blonde boy stepped forward.
“One chocolate cone, please.” muttered the boy, wiping the sweat off of his brow.
Narendra’s smile formed into a greedy snarl as he retorted, “Ten dollars.”
The boy’s eyes went wide in disbelief, while Narendra mused in his dismay. His voice cracked, “But sir, I always buy a cone for two dollars.”
“Supply and demand, kid. Ten dollars or get lost!” He spat.
The blonde boy spilled coins from his pocket into his hand and counted the eight quarters he knew he had. His head fell as he walked away, the change jingling back into his pocket. Narendra chortled as his eyes followed the sad little boy. He returned his attention to the jumbled line of children, each desperate for an icy treat on what was quickly becoming the hottest day of the school year. “Next!” he shouted.
A young girl walked briskly to the truck window and slapped a ten dollar bill on the counter. She locked eyes with the greedy salesman and ordered, “One vanilla cone with a chocolate dip.” Narendra matched the young girl’s stare before looking down at the crisp bill she had slapped in front of him. His eyes rolled back up to meet the girl’s eyes as he muttered out coldly, “Fifteen dollars.”
The girl puffed out her chest, shouting back, “But you’ve been selling them for ten dollars all day!”
A lanky man appeared from behind Narendra, his noodle arms whipping chocolate sauce in a mixing bowl. From two pouty lips, he snapped, “You think-uh-all this chocolate is free? Huh? Shoot!” He glared at the little girl from two little dark beads. The girl eyed the two men, snickering to themselves within the window. She was angry, hungry, and hot, but she knew she wasn’t going to win this fight. She reluctantly handed over a five dollar bill to the pudgy man who accepted it with a toothy smile.
“One vanilla cone, coming right up.” he laughed.
Behind the salesmen, a third figure appeared. Her voice came sultry and bright, “Oh, boys!”
The two were startled by her, both addressing her by name, “G-Gracie!”
“How’s our operation going?” she implored.
“Just as planned.” Narendra answered, “These kids are practically throwing their money at us!”
“Perfect.”
“Stealing this ice cream truck was your best idea yet, boss!” said Ivan, as the three of them grinned at the crowd of children in front of them. A little girl holding a leaflet caught Gracie’s eye. The woman reached out and snatched it from the helpless child. Gracie scanned the flyer, announcing a picture day taking place at the elementary school.
“These brats are having their picture day tomorrow.” she said aloud. She brought her hands to her chest, scrunching the leaflet in her hands. “Oh, I remember picture day…” she mused, “It was horrible!”
She returned her stare to the sea of children outside the truck, “We need to make sure that none of these little brats take any good pictures tomorrow! Narendra! Ivan!”
“Y-yes, boss?” They answered in unison.
“I want you both to get to work on a humidity machine. We’ll show these kids a real heat wave.”
The trio huddled together, rubbing their hands as they snickered at their own villainy. But their laughs were promptly interrupted by another voice; “Excuse me!” The three shifted their eyes towards the window where the young girl who had payed fifteen dollars earlier stood with her hands on her hips. “I still haven’t gotten my ice cream!”
Gracie and her henchmen eyed the girl before turning around and saying, “Shut it down, boys!” Ivan rushed to the driver’s seat while Narendra reached for the window shutter.
“Alright, back up you little creeps! We’re closed!” he yelled out.
“I want my money back!” the little girl shouted.
“My money!” Narendra laughed, slamming the metal shutter down. “Dumb kids.” he sneered, as the children outside banged against the side of the truck. He situated himself in the passenger seat, counting the days earnings. Gracie leaned in behind them as Ivan started the engine.
“We’ll give these brats something to cry about, and a name they’ll never forget—“ Ivan floored it, sending the truck screeching off as the trio shouted aloud, “The Disruptor Gang!”
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