untitled.

park the car.
it's time to play.

not too far away, but far enough so you can't read the plates from the main entrance.

grab a cart on the way in, make a mental note of where the employees are.

dressed the part, gotta fit in. dickies. work clothes. carhartt.
take the long way around to the paint asile. a little paranoid. act like we're browsing.

alright. here we go.
one person to the end of the asile, a lookout. the other two fill the cart.
fuck cans, i'm talking cases. fill the cart. bottom rack too.
should we throw in a roller extension pole too? sure, fuck it.

flat black. all of it.
silver. flat white. wildflower blue. whatever will fit, as long as it's rusto.
i ain't doing this shit for krylon.

okay. full cart.
now comes the fun part. send one outside, all casual. check it out.
light a cigarette. signal all clear, just a slow nod.

then me. and the cart. out through the in door.
easy.
in the lot, heading for the car.

the last one comes through, to make sure no one noticed.
this time someone did.

he overhears her saying, "those boys over there..." to the kid in the orange vest.
"...they just pushed that cart out!"

the vest looks across the lot. what is he suspossed to do about it he asks.

she goes inside. raising hell.

fuck.

we are sprinting for the car. popping the trunk. hustle.
get the shit in, and lets go.

theres a swarm of orange coming out now. yeah, they see us.

the car is loaded. they are too slow, and we are on the gas like tony stewart.
flying through the lot, over a median, and onto the freeway ramp.

that was probably a little unnessasary. but the adreniline is flowing.

we had 600 cans of paint.

they lasted most of the summer.