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He was eating a Snickers bar while lying on my bed with his legs extended up the wall. I sat at my desk and watched silently as he was voluntarily giving himself an acid reflux.

"So," he said and swallowed quickly. I thought he'd choke right then and there.

"Take your time." I said.

"So," he took another bite. "I have a plan."

"What plan?"

"First," he sat up. "You're going to The Chinese Man's magazine kiosk. Remember the kiosk? Because for some reasons I'll explain later, I need you to go shopping for me. And then to 7-Eleven."

I nodded slowly.

"Second, I made you a list." he dug in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and a wallet. He handed them to me and said, "Hundred-dollar bills from Dennison. That should cover it."

Murdock's list:

50 Playboy magazines

4 C-cell batteries

8 AA batteries

A can of Monster

A Chupa Chup (strawberry)

"What exactly is this plan?" I asked.

"Breaking and entering."

"What? Where?"

"The West Library." He grinned. "And I swear to God there will be no felonies involved."

"This is beginning to scare me."

"Good. Being scared means you're about to do something really, really brave. I'm scared too," he said and gobbled up the Snickers bar. "Only complete nutjobs aren't afraid of anything."

"I really don't want to get in any trouble, Murdock." I said, making sure he knew. "I mean, I want to help you and everything, but not at the expense of, like, my future." 

"I understand where you're coming from." He smiled. "But as Emerson said and I quote, every sweet hath its sour; every evil its good. Every excess causes a defect; every defect an excess. For everything you have missed, you have gained something else; and for every thing you gain, you lose something," he said. I tried to blink away with awe, but he saw the way I was looking at him and smirked at me. "I'm breaking in the fortress to seek the thrones of angels for a short and turbulent pleasure. Basically, Howler, retribution. Retribution. That is my cause, and it's a fine cause, which is itself the effect of a finer cause."

I looked down and up again. The American Idiot poster stared at me, and I stared back. Billie Joe was pointing his finger at me as if saying "Hey, quit bitching and get your ass in gear and do what needs to be fucking done!"

"Arggadaslf," I said with a huff. Frustrated. "Does Woody approve of this?"

He grinned. "Where do you think I got the porno mag idea from?"   

...

That Friday night, at 12:00, the four of us assembled behind a large bush in front of the West Library. Murdock couldn't have picked a better time to initiate his Retribution Plan. After the clock tower struck midnight, the campus was perfectly quiet. Everyone was somewhere else, having fun. There was nobody on campus, to disturb. "Not even the Neon Vests," Garfunkel confirmed. He'd memorized their rounds already like he'd memorized combination locks from bank vaults. Garfunkel would be a phenomenal criminal.

Crouched behind the bush, I had in my hands a paper bag filled with adult magazines and a 7-Eleven bag. Now, I wasn't sure what you're supposed to say to The Chinese Man at nine in the evening when you put a stack of Playboy magazines on the fruit shop counter. Haggling with him was beyond weird, considering he kept giving me the googly eye. 

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