Tina sat in her car, the lights off, fondling a container of eggs in a shadowed corner of the street. She was nervous as hell – it wasn’t every day you decided to egg your representative’s house.
But she had tried the better methods. She wanted to speak up at the town hall, but there was no town hall. She wanted to meet with her representative, or talk, or send a fax, or something, but there was no way to contact him. She had written countless letters and she knew they had gone unread.
She didn’t like violence. She didn’t like causing trouble. She didn’t like seeing people hurt or inconveniencing people.
But she couldn’t handle the hurt, the inconvenience, the trouble of having her voice silenced. If he would not hear her voice, he’d have to listen to her somehow.
2am. It was now or never, she thought. All the cops were patrolling the streets near bars, but Mr. Rorschach’s house was nestled in a quiet little gated community. It was easy to get in – she knew a friend who lived nearby and had said she was visiting them to the guard. She’d even been to Representative Rorschach’s house when she was younger, when her friend had invited her to a party that neither of them enjoyed. He lived down the street.
Come on, she thought to herself. Don’t be a pussy.
Tina tried not to think about how illegal it was to egg someone’s house. She pulled the black mask over her head and walked to the house at the end of the block. All the lights were off. The streetlamp closest flickered on and off. Perfect.
Tina took a big breath, pulled out an egg, and started throwing. By the 8th egg she had accidentally shattered a window. A dog barked. She darted down the street before anyone could make it outside and curled up in the backseat of her car ’til morning.
It was a perfect crime.
Words of Crepuscule 