S-K-Y-L-I-G-H-T - 1. Skylight 1

It was first seen as this glowing light in the glory of the nighttime sky. This flawless pearl that just seemed to blossom out of the darkness, and present itself to the world with a surprising beauty that most weren't prepared for.

The astronomer who discovered it first, mostly by accident, just so happened to be named Houdini. No relation. However, most found it appropriate that this celestial event be called the 'Houdini 3' comet...as it seemed to simply appear out of nowhere one night when the visibility was just right. There was only a couple of weeks given to astronomers to it study it and figure out its trajectory before it was ready to reach its peak. Something this big, moving this fast...it seems almost frightening that our greatest sky watchers worldwide couldn't have detected this sooner. Luckily, the comet was going to miss the Earth by at least 7 million miles. A 'near miss' in astronomical terms. It hardly gave the population of Earth enough time to panic, it appeared so fast. The 'Houdini 3' was a 22 mile wide block of solid rock and ice, moving at 47,000 miles an hour. Unusually fast for a comet of its size. And if it had been knocked out of its orbit any sooner, or had been moving any faster...the impact would have been beyond disastrous. Mankind, and all of his achievements, would have basically been turned into the fossils and archaeological digs of another species entirely a few millions years down the line. All of our vast technology...reduced to cave paintings on the walls of a more advanced world. With them looking back on our civilization, wondering what could have wiped us out so quickly.

Of course, comets race by the planet all the time. Some are simply passing by, some actually maintain an certain orbit of a century, give or take a few decades. So they're definitely not all just a once in a lifetime event like Haley's. There were going to be more than fifteen passing by us this month alone. Which is rather fascinating to anyone who truly develops an interest in their very concept. The things these pieces of ice must have seen. Virtual time machines, carrying with them remnants from a much older universe that mankind can neither fathom nor understand. Certainly not explain. But someday, the hope is to gather some of these ancient samples and study them here on Earth...finding out all the wonderful information they provide.

The 'Houdini 3' has easily become the biggest astronomical thrill since the Hale Bopp back in 1997, it's tail growing rapidly as the dust, vapors, and gasses, are warmed by the unforgiving heat and radiation of the sun. Small pieces, most no bigger than a coconut, have broken free from the comet, and supposedly created a few brief, but spectacular, meteor showers in a few select places. As it comes closer, it will be visible to the residents of Chicago in the early twilight hours. Anyone just outside of the glaring city lights should be able to pick it out easily with the naked eye. Meteor showers are sure to be evident as well, and could quite possibly become a show that they will never forget.

A show...that NO ONE...will ever forget...

Click One: "Love"

Jake Gordon had spent so many hours watching his favorite boy run for the Westlake High School track team, that most would have considered his interest obsessive. And who knows? Maybe it was. Jake never questioned it, not for a moment. There was nothing else in this world that he'd rather be doing, than watching his long time crush, Dorian Flynn, pushing himself to his athletic limits on that track.

Jake sighed quietly to himself as he attempted to push thoughts of mentally groping the 16 year old heartthrob with both hands, while kissing his slightly thickened red lips with a passion that would threaten to suffocate them both if they didn't come up for air. Dorian was built like an athlete, but despite his desire to gain some 'bulk' to his young muscles, he still maintained a playfully deceptive look to him. A sleek, tight body that was stronger and faster than it appeared, and yet, could still be so soft and smooth to the touch. Almost 'girlish' in his appearance, Dorian's angelically smooth face was curtained by long wavy locks of dark brown hair. The kind that sparkled in sunlight, and flowed like warm chocolate from the top of his head and hung sweetly just below his chin. Jake would often squirm helplessly as he watched Dorian push the chestnut brown hair out of his hazel eyes, or flick it back with a slight jerk of his head. Jake longed to touch it. To smell its candy sweet aroma, as it fell gently through his open fingers. As much as Jake tried to deny that what he was feeling was true love for a boy that he knew only in 'passing'...it was often harder to write it off as anything else.

Jake was having so much difficulty with his sexuality before Dorian came along. A boy with light blond hair, cut short to just lick the temples on either side of his head, and blessed with his father's dark blue eyes, Jake has been pegged as a bonafide 'heartbreaker' since his 12th birthday. Expected to be beating girls off with a stick by now, four years later. He was supposed to be enjoying his youth, going to parties, and getting into the average teenage boy's acceptable version of trouble every other weekend. But, while Jake could easily pull off a few flirtatious remarks to the girls around him, and had a nice collection of acquaintances that gave him the appearance of 'normalcy' through popularity...he knew deep down that it wasn't what his heart desired. All of the party invites, friendly grins, and high fives, in the world couldn't satisfy his heart's true desire. The desire to walk out of this self made 'trap' that he had thrown himself into. He was finally realizing that once someone gives themselves over to being a part of a 'group'...there's a rigid list of rules and regulations that goes along with it. Expectations. An image to live up to. A personality that is to be defined and chiseled into a block of concrete It is not up to him to change it any more. It is considered 'rude' to step out of his typecasting where his many 'friends' are concerned. That means no more growth. No more change. And it most DEFINITELY means that the concept of being a homosexual has to be thrown out of the window. He can't be gay. It hasn't been written into his performance. He has come too far to break character now. Too far to watch it all collapse behind him. So he keeps it hidden. Right there between his fear of the horrible consequences of being outed in high school...and the mind-blowing potential of actually finding a boy like Dorian to have and to hold someday. Someone who's kiss could light up his whole world and make life glisten and gleam with the kind of magnificence that he knew it could. The kind of shivers that he felt from just one glance at Dorian's bright hazel eyes could fill his whole existence with pride and joy...if only he had the chance. If only Dorian could feel the same.

Dorian Flynn...the kind of boy that was what many would think to be untouchable. Beyond being good looking, he has had to adjust his perspective of people in general as he often catches them staring at him with the glow of infatuation in their eyes. As soon as his hormones kicked in, along with all of his classmates, he became more and more gorgeous. Taller, thinner, with model-worthy cheek bones and soft tanned skin that was free of blemishes of any kind. And no matter how dreadfully insecure he became about the stares that followed his every footstep, every second of the day, his body just continued to bloom in the most amazing ways. And that level of beauty could sometimes be more intimidating than alluring. Some days...Dorian was thankful for that. And other days...it could be oh so very lonely.

A star athlete on the track team, Dorian had no problem moving up and down the soccer field that day in gym. He could easily run for speed or for distance, and that kept him energized throughout the entire game. He wasn't really into scoring as much as he was just playing These sports activities were one of the few times when the other kids in his class didn't notice his looks. Where it didn't matter if he was prettier than most boys. He was just a part of a team, and to him it felt like the pressure was off. If only for a little while.

However...it was about half way through the class period, when he noticed someone watching him from the edge of the field. The same blond boy that always seemed to sneak out of his class during Dorian's gym period to come down and gawk at him for a little bit. Jake didn't mind missing a few classes here and there. As far as he was concerned...he was getting more education and experience from watching Dorian run up and down that field in a pair of gym shorts than he ever could in some boring history class. Jake couldn't take his eyes off of him. The rush of infatuation filling him up inside, like helium, swelling his heart until he was almost floating in mid air. He didn't want to be too obvious about it, and would always pretend to be just scanning the whole field, or just 'watching the game', every time Dorian caught him staring. But...funny thing is, out of all the strangeness Dorian felt from other people...for some odd reason...

He liked it when Jake watched. Jake could stare at him anytime he wanted to.

Click Two: "Isolation"

"Dude, come on! You've GOTTA come to the comet watching party tonight! Don't back out on me." Martin whined. He was fifteen years old, and comfortably orbiting on the outside of almost everything that could be referred to as 'popular'. It could have been the unfortunate thickness of his prescription glasses, or the spattering of dark red pimples that had taken up a permanent residence in all of the most visible places on his face, or maybe it was just that his lack of contact with his peers in the sophomore class had made him a bit of a misfit when it came to 'connecting'. Whatever it was, Martin had been labeled pretty harshly as an undeniable 'geek', and after a few years of being taunted and teased by it, he grew to accept his place in the social order.

Not like his best friend, Jason Riley.

"Jason, if you don't go, you're gonna ruin my whole weekend. This is the BEST night to see it! Visibility won't be this good ever again! You SAID you would go. What else have you got to do?" Martin asked, brushing a few dandruff flakes off of his shoulder from his chaotic mass of short brown hair.

Jason sighed to himself, wishing that he didn't have to explain. "I don't know, Martin. I just don't feel like going, that's all." Jason, while a very cute and intelligent boy of fifteen, had somehow found himself in the same category as Martin. More by choice than by circumstance, although he'd never admit to it. Martin knew that Jason was gay. He figured it out a few years ago, and Jason trusted him to be the lone bearer of that particular secret. Jason was extremely withdrawn most times. Almost phobic when it came to taking risks. Not risks like swerving out into rapidly moving rush hour traffic, or climbing the jagged side of a mountain with his bare hands. But little risks...like talking to people, or raising his hand to answer a question in class, or maybe even looking boys like Jake Gordon in the eye as he passed him in the halls on the way to class. God, how he wished he had the guts to talk to that boy. One day. One day.

Jason's mind started to wander off into a misguided fantasy about kissing Jake Gordon on the lips...just once Having Jake run his fingers through Jason's soft brown curls, stare into his blue/green eyes...and whisper 'I love you'. The kind of fantasy that would win an Oscar if only someone could capture it on film. It was then that he noticed Martin giving him a somewhat dirty look and clearing his throat as he waited for a positive answer. Jason snapped himself out of it immediately. "Look, I'm sorry, ok? I just...I don't think I wanna go."

Martin leaned closer, causing Jason to shrug away from him a bit, avoiding his eyes so he wouldn't be talked into giving in. "Jason...this is the 'Houdini 3' comet we're talking about? Nothing like this has EVER happened before. Ok? It's probably never going to happen again. And even if it does, it won't be in OUR lifetimes! This is, like, a HUGE event! We're talking the biggest comet to EVER come this close to hitting the Earth. EVER! Ok? We're talking meteor showers from falling debris and everything. How can you not go?"

Jason frowned a bit, his mouth still getting used to a shiny set of braces. Even after nine months of having to wear them, he still couldn't quite feel comfortable with having a mouth full of metal. And it would still be another year at least until he could get them taken off. "Martin..." He started, but his nerdy friend made sure to cut him off.

"Come on, don't be a jerk. You promised you wouldn't be a recluse this weekend."

"I'm NOT being a recluse! I just don't wanna go tonight."

"I'll bet if 'you know who' was going, you'd want to go then." Martin said with a roll of his eyes. He could understand Jason being gay, that he could take. But his constant chasing after Jake Gordon was absolutely 'baffling' to him. As far as Martin was concerned, Jake was the 'enemy'. He was one of the popular kids. The same kids who made fun of people like him and Jason, laughed at them, and walked around school feeling like they were so high and mighty over everybody else. Why would Jason want to chase after somebody who was soooo opposite from everything they stood for?

Jason seemed almost hurt by the comment. "You know what? That's just plain mean. So...you know...fuck you, I'm not going. End of story."

Martin apologized, and went back to pleading with him. "Come on, I need a comet watching buddy to be there. I can't just go by myself. You're one of the only friends that I've got who's just as into this stuff as I am."

"I'm one of the only friends you've got, period, Martin." Jason sulked, getting his cheap shot back.

Martin half expected it, and hardly let it phase him. "Even MORE of a reason for you to feel at least morally 'obligated' to go with me." He said "Who knows? Maybe you'll find a hot astronomy stud and you two can make out all night in some closet somewhere while I take pictures of the comet."

The visual it gave Jason was an appealing one, but even if such a situation had been presented to him in the most blatantly perfect way, he'd probably still run away from it. As much as Jason wished and hoped for things that he wanted more than anything...taking those first few steps towards getting it were simply too frightening to consider. He was a boy that was afraid of the world. A boy that just wish he fit into a much larger circle.

"Fine. I'll go. Whatever." Jason Pouted, feeling defeated for having caved in.

"Gee, don't sound TOO happy about spending time with me or anything. I don't know if my ego can handle it." Martin said sarcastically.

"Sorry. I just...I'll go, ok? I'll go."

Martin smiled. "You're gonna love it. We're gonna get there, and you're gonna look up at that big blue ball of light in the sky, and you're gonna love every nerdy minute of it. You'll see."

"Sure. Whatever." Jason mumbled, and then left Martin to get back to his notebook...while he went back to subtle fantasies about smooching passionately with the boy of his dreams. Jason had made an art of avoiding the rest of the world, either by burying his nose in books and homework, or entertaining sensual images that he could only wish were real. The more time he spent submerged in fantasy, the happier he was. Fantasies were fun. They were safe. And with Jake there by his side...it was hot! Asking for more would screw everything up, he was sure of it. It's best to keep a decent distance between dreams and reality. One NEVER adds up to the other.

And why mess up what he already has, trying to get a better deal than that?

Click Three: "Escapism"

It was maybe the third or fourth time that Rusty Jacobs had done this, and he was getting increasingly confident about never getting caught. The 15 year old stoner boy had found a slightly faulty lock on the door leading down into the school's boiler room, a large enough basement area where he and his best friend, Kyle Bellows, could 'smoke' in peace. While Kyle was a dedicated skater boy, and definitely looked the part, from his short blond dreads, to his decoratively ripped jeans...Rusty saw that as way too much activity for him to involve himself in. Rusty kept a mask of dark brown hair flopped over his brown eyes at all times, and dressed just as lazily as he walked, talked, and felt, throughout most of the day. Somehow, the two boys had fallen in with one another, united by their one favorite pastime. Partners in 'green'.

Rusty cringed as he heard Kyle trip over a broom, and quickly shut the door behind them. "Shhhh...what the hell, man? Watch your feet." Rusty told him with a smirk, anxious to get down to business already. Rusty had figured out that the unfixed lock to the basement could easily be picked with the use of a paper clip and any ordinary house key two weeks ago. And that opened up a lot of opportunities for mischief. But most importantly, since his mother was always at home, and Kyle's little brother was a total narc, they needed a place to have some privacy. They couldn't afford to get caught in the park, especially with police making the occasional 'drive through' just to make sure everything was on the legal side. So the basement was quickly becoming a second home to them. And they couldn't have been happier.

"Dude, hurry up and get your bag out. I gotta be in Chemistry in like twenty minutes." Kyle told him, sitting down on the ground behind the large pipes intertwining all throughout the room like iron serpents. Everything seemed dark and dusty, heated almost to the point of being uncomfortable, with a loud hiss and a hum that made it almost difficult to hear anything. And yet, to the boys, it was a beach property paradise.

Rusty opened up his backpack and got out his bag of marijuana and some rolling papers. Already an expert in the act, he carefully sprinkled a healthy amount down the middle, and began to roll it up. "Don't get it all wet and shit, like last time." Kyle told him.

"Shut up. It's my shit, I'll do what I want with it." Rusty grinned, and licked it, sealing it closed. "Gimmee your lighter." Kyle supplied him with one, and he ran it back and forth under the neatly rolled joint for a few seconds before lighting the end of it. To Rusty, that first drag was always the best. The most relaxing part of his day.

He handed the joint to Kyle who no took control and took a few quick puffs of his own. Always a bit more for smoking theatrics, Kyle always made some kind of noise, or attempted blowing smoke rings. Anything that was outside of your typical 'inhale, hold, exhale' routine. Rusty watched for Kyle's first smile, which came as soon as the high began to take over And they both giggled at one another as they leaned back to continue.

The rotation kept going back and forth for a minute or two, when Kyle asked, "So...are you gonna watch that comet shit on the news tonight? It's supposed to be big."

Rusty rolled his eyes, "Come on dude, are you serious? It's a big rock. We got rocks here on Earth. Big fucking deal."

"No, really, Rusty. It's like...a big ass space boulder, man. That's fucking hot, you know?"

"If you say so." Rusty said lazily, taking a bigger drag than last time. He could already feel his eyes half closing up on him, the pleasant euphoria of mild dizziness sweeping through his mind. "I'm sure it'll be on every channel anyway. So it's not like I'm gonna have a choice."

Kyle took another big puff, and smiled. "Just think...if that thing had been moving any faster, or got any closer...this would be our last day on Earth, bro. And we spent it getting high. Hehehe!"

"Fuck yeah!" Rusty giggled, and a sloppy high five was exchanged between them. "Just 7 million miles from extinction. I like it."

Kyle gave him a funny look, and asked, "How did you know it was 7 million miles away? I thought you weren't watching."

"I pick up a few bits of information here and there between commercials."

"Sure ya do." Kyle smirked. "Quit hogging the smoke, dude. Pass it back."

"Hehehe...if you ask me, I see outer space every time I hit this shit." Rusty smiled, and the two of them finished off what they had. Attempting to calm themselves a bit before going back to class. A little Axe body spray was shared between them, not really doing much good to hide the smell. But it isn't as if the school didn't know what they were doing anyway. Being a pot head isn't just an activity, it's a culture. And they definitely looked the part. "Do I look high?"

Kyle giggled, "You're asking somebody who's high if YOU look high?"

"Good point. Fuck it. Let's go." Rusty said, packing up his backpack again. "Hey, you wanna meet back here today after the last bell? We'll burn another one before we go home."

"You sure we won't get busted? I mean, that's after school. What if the janitor comes in and catches us?"

"Who? Foley? Dude, that old drunk couldn't catch his own shadow on a sunny day. Besides, as long as we get out of here by four o'clock, it'll just look like we're getting out of detention. It's nothing."

Kyle straightened himself out a bit, and said, "In that case, same bat-time..."

"...Same bat-channel." They exchanged a secret handshake, and walked back up to the door to peek out into the hall before going back to class. They'd be late, but it didn't matter much. The teachers pretty much had gotten used to their routine. All they had to do now was stay focused until the final bell rang for the day. How hard could that be?

Life is a hell of a lot easier to deal with when you're high. It's like...masturbation for the senses.

Click Four: "Justice"

It had been a constant humiliation for Darwin Kelly to come to school. Every single day. The pushes, the shoves, the spilled lunches, the head dunks in the toilet. He never asked for this. Not for any of it.

He would spend two or three minutes every morning...staring at himself in the mirror...trying not to let the tears fall from his liquid light brown eyes. Trying to get the courage to go to school. Or to at least have the courage to stay home and tell his mother why. Darwin had a stepfather that had moved into the house over a year ago. What some would refer to as a 'man's man'. He was a police officer, intimidating in size and attitude. Strong, rugged, spoke with a powerful voice, fixed things around the house, drank beer while watching 'the game'...he was a few adventures short of being an action hero. And his own son, Brad, was a chip off the old block. It was clear that the two of them had instantly marked their territory and dominated the household. However, while Darwin had always been his mother's sweet little boy from day one, there was now too much testosterone in that space for it to matter much anymore. There was no room for a sensitive, bashful, frail little artist who didn't play sports. No room for tears, or for whining, or for hugs. Between his stepfather constantly trying to push him into being tougher than what he was, and his stepbrother, Brad, calling him a fag every ten minutes...Darwin felt out of place in his own home. In his own 'skin', even. But his home life was only the beginning.

His name was Mitch Campinini. An 18 year old, hulking sack of shit that had been held back twice. Once in his Freshman year, and once way back in the 8th grade, where he was supposedly expelled for punching a teacher in the face. Mitch towered over almost everyone in the junior class, built like a linebacker, a bit overweight, with short buzz cut brown hair and brown eyes that hovered above a disgustingly evil grin with a chipped tooth in the front. Mitch had been making it hard for Darwin ever since his Freshman orientation, where he picked the fragile boy off of his feet and sat him down in a garbage can in the middle of the whole cafeteria. Ever since Darwin had been marked as an easy target to take his aggressions out on..it's been open season on him. All day, every day, for two and a half years now.

As Darwin stared in that mirror that morning, embarrassed by his slight and delicate features, pissed off at his apparent weakness...he took notice that his morning 'staring contests' with his own reflection had become increasingly longer over the last few months. Where it was once a two or three minute affair, with tears inevitably rolling down his cheeks, despite his attempts to stop them...it had now been almost fifteen minutes. His soft brown hair, neatly done, trimmed around the edges. His clothes ironed and fitted, not expensive, but certainly not cheap. Darwin should have fit in. He should have had a bunch of friends, a girl to call his own, the best grades....he was smart, and funny, and talented with his artwork...he should have had it all. But not with Mitch around. Not with the humiliation. Not with him making his life a living hell. He ruined it. He spoiled everything. And Darwin was going to have to live with the shame of his high school tortures for the rest of his natural life. It wasn't ever going to go away. Not ever.

It had now been seventeen minutes. Three minutes more than yesterday. The build had been gradual. Five minutes, eight minutes, ten minutes, twelve. But the tears were gone completely from the image before him. There weren't any more. The tears defied him. And yet, they seemed to defend him. What he was feeling now went deeper into his soul than what the vulnerability of tears could express. No...he had gone much deeper than that.

Darwin gnashed his teeth together, his fists balled up on the bathroom counter as he glared at his reflection with such intensity that he expected to melt the glass right out of its frame. His breathing became shaky as the anger built inside of him. A hatred darker than anything he had ever known. It had been building slowly over the last few years, but it was just in the last few weeks that it had finally reached his boiling point. He thought about the time Mitch had snatched his shorts down in gym class and pushed him down naked in the dirt. He thought about the time Mitch grabbed his backpack, turned it upside down, and emptied the contents over the railing down three flights of stairs. He thought about the way Mitch laughed when he pushed him off of the top of the bleachers, or the time he hit him in the face with a giant snowball, or tipped his lunch tray over and wasted his food all over his brand new clothes. He thought about every offense, every insult, every fucking prank and push and poke, that Mitch had ever given him! And Darwin decided that he just couldn't take any more. Sometimes...things just go too far. So far that you can't take them back any more. They can't make amends. They can't make things right any more. He has to pay for what he's done. He has to be punished now. And nobody else seems to be up to the task. So it's up to Darwin to speed karma's hand.

"What the hell are you DOING in there, sissy boy? Playing with yourself?" Brad pounded from the other side of the bathroom door. "Quit jerking your limp noodle and let me get in there! I gotta take a dump before school!"

"I'll be out in a minute..." Darwin said, his soft voice just as frail as the rest of him. Most people would have found his delicate nature to be quite beautiful. But Darwin had lost sight of his own beauty a long time ago. There was nothing left to love. Nothing else to hope for. Nothing else to strive for. As far as he was concerned, the one thing...the ONLY thing...that he could really offer the world in this life..was to get rid of one of the people fucking it up for everybody else. One noble act to make certain that there was one less bully in this world to take away the joy and opportunity that intelligent 16 year old boys like him are entitled to. If his life was going to have any meaning at all..this would be it.

Nineteen minutes.

Darwin had spent the last five days searching the house from top to bottom when he got the chance. Knowing his stepfather, the big 'protector' that he was, he knew that there would be a little something extra in the house for when trouble came knocking. He had no doubt that there would be a gun, already loaded, with easy access...just in case. It took a lot of searching, and a lot of moving things around...but eventually, Darwin found a locked box hidden away in the corner of the top shelf, way up high in his bedroom closet. He could tell from the sheer weight of it what it was, and knew to keep it in mind where he kept it. When his stepfather was watching the game, guzzling down the better part of a 12-pack, he kept his wallet and keys on the lamp stand next to the couch. So once he went to sleep, Darwin would sneak over, carefully pick up the keys, and try each one of them in the lock until he finally found one that made it click open.

The pistol was bigger than he thought it would be. Definitely not police issue. The first time he took it out of the box, he nearly dropped it on a count that it was so unbelievably heavy. He had to strain his wrist a bit to hold it upright, but once he got used to holding it...he became enchanted by the power it held. He marveled at the strength of it, and entertained fantasies of having Mitch Campinini begging and crying at his feet, PLEADING for his worthless life like the despicable vermin that he was. He would know how it felt THEN, wouldn't he? He'd understand what it was like to totally be at the mercy of someone else. To have to just take the humiliation of not being able to fight back. To have to grin and bear it while the other kids laugh and point and judge him based solely on the torture someone else put him through. He's gonna know. And then...he's gonna die.

Darwin made sure to put everything back in place until the time was right. He made sure to read up on how to fire weapons on the internet, and how to know what to expect. And just moments before stepping into that bathroom for his morning shower...and stare at his reflection for what might be the last time...he made sure to write a long note to his mother to explain why her little boy may not come home from school today. Everyone would probably be too wrapped up in this 'comet' business to care. But for Darwin, the coming of a comet seems almost appropriate. Like a sign. A symbol of freedom. And he wonders if he'll be able to touch it for himself when he's gone...as his soul is on its way to wherever a loving God decides to send it after his final actions are put into motion.

"Hey, BUTTHEAD!!! Open the fuckin' DOOR!!!" Brad shouted at him, and Darwin did as he was asked. "It's about time, faggot! Jesus!" Brad bumped his fragile shoulder, practically knocking him over as he walked into the bathroom with a magazine and slammed the door in his face.

But Darwin hardly cared at this point. As long as his mother was cooking breakfast and Brad was in the bathroom...that gave him the perfect opportunity to get what he needed from his father's closet and tuck it neatly into his backpack. By the end of the day...when that last bell rings...Mitch is going to get right between those beady little eyes of his.

Darwin isn't looking to hurt innocent people. He doesn't want anyone to think that this is random. It's NOT random! It won't be some violent rampage set off by a rejected kid who just needed some more love at home. No. This is a hit. A direct hit, and a mark in the win column for every bullied kid walking this Earth with tears in their eyes. Mitch deserved it as far as Darwin was concerned, and far be it from him to deprive him his parting gift.

The 'Houdini 3' comet is expected to be the biggest news report this weekend. Darwin is planning to give it some competition.