Read Online The Obstacle Course by JF Freedman - Free Book Online Page B

her lungs out?”
    “I got her lungs,” Joe laughed, grabbing his balls through his pants.
    “You got jack-shit,” Burt said. “Now shut the fuck up.”
    There were two entrances, the one we’d come in and another one at the far end, about fifty feet further down. Joe stood guard at one and Burt watched the other. I took the long-necked screwdriver out of my jacket pocket and pried it into the coin box of the nearest washing machine. I’ve got this down to a science; a few good thrusts, and the box popped open. I scooped the coins into a bookbag Joe’d brought and went to work on the next one.
    I checked Burt and Joe. They were bouncing on the balls of their feet, ready to run. I was the cool one—I just went from box to box, doing my work. I’m pretty cool under pressure, I guess it comes from having to dodge my old man all the time.
    The whole operation took less than three minutes. I scooped the last of the coins into the bookbag and carefully reattached the coin boxes to the machines; until they were opened by the guy that services them nobody could tell they’d been fucked with.
    We ran out the way we’d come in and up the hill clear of the apartments, resting behind the Mobil station.
    “I thought sure somebody was coming down that time,” Joe said, gulping for air, “it was so quiet I couldn’t hardly stand it.”
    “Somebody should’ve come down the way you were mouthing off,” Burt said.
    “Oh, fuck you,” Joe said.
    “Fuck you, too,” Burt came back.
    We’re always talking to each other like that. It’s like somebody else saying ‘how you doing.’
    “I’ve been through every corner of that place,” I told them. “I’ve got ways in and out of there you ain’t never seen yet.” I’m good at planning strategy for shit like that, that’s how come I know I’ll do good at the Naval Academy.
    “Count up and let’s get out of here. I’m freezing my cookies off,” Burt said, shivering as much from the danger as the cold.
    “You ain’t got enough cookies to freeze off,” I told him.
    “Ask Carolyn Hill how much cookies I got,” Burt fired back.
    “You getting any off her?” Joe asked.
    “Bare titty and more to come,” Burt said, strutting his achievement like a goddamn rooster in a barnyard.
    “You wouldn’t know what to do with it if you got it, which you never will,” I jibed at him.
    “Fuck I wouldn’t.”
    “Come on, count up,” Joe said. It really was cold out, our breath was condensing in front of our faces.
    I laid the change out on the ground, making three equal piles. The take came to almost three dollars each.
    “Not bad for a night’s work,” I stated, feeling proud. Three dollars is good money any way you look at it.
    “Let’s adios the hell out of here,” Burt said, scooping his share into his pockets.
    “We’ve already done the deed,” I told him, “so don’t get your bowels in an uproar.”
    I silently climbed through the window into my room, crossed the dark floor, and opened my closet door, where I took out a Mason jar that I’ve hidden behind some old football pads, way in the back. I opened the lid and put my night’s work inside. The jar was three-quarters filled with nickels and dimes. That’s where I get the money to buy stuff like my models and the new Ravensburg High jacket.
    I hid the jar away and got back into my pajamas. Then I cracked my door, checking things out. There weren’t any lights except the glow from the television set.
    My old man was sleeping in front of the test pattern. He woke up with a start when he heard me come into the room.
    “Got hungry,” I explained, making sure to stay upwind from him, because his breath, a combination of booze and mouth-open sleeping, was truly vicious. He could get a job steaming wallpaper off walls, I swear to God.
    He grunted with a loud belch. If he lit a match he’d blow up the whole goddamn house. Finally he forced himself up from the couch and staggered upstairs, shedding his