by One of the downsides of the life of crime is that occasionally you have to do business with people who are ummm, well if you wanted a better word: Criminals. Like most things that end up with you hanging upside down in a deserted warehouse, it started with a really good idea.
-One day earlier-
"A Small Cat in a Garden was painted by Pablo Picassoin 1903 in what was known as his Blue Period, it measure 12 inches by 11 inches and was stolen by a private collection in the early hours of Sunday morning." Billy read.
"And the value?" I asked.
"Been in short for three million, and it was stolen by order." Billy responded.
"Is mad Dolly still around?" Aubrie asked.
"My thoughts exactly" Billy said. "Best Picasso forger in Saskatoon."
"Okay, but why do we need someone to forge a painting if its already been stolen?" Brad asked.
"Because its theft has already been reported." Billy said.
"So someone would believe you if you tried to sell it." Brad continued."Brilliant!"
"Yes it is, yes it is." I remarked.
-Back to Present-
Well, potentially brilliant, depending on who you're trying to sell the fake to; and here's a little tip: If you ever find yourself trying to flop a fake Picasso: Don't try and sell it to the guy who the original was nicked from in the first place.
"Alright, here comes the cavalry." I said to myself.
"Caleb!" Brad yelled as he, Aubrie and Kolby got out of the car.
"Gently Brad, gently!"Aubrie said to Brad as he was untying the rope that on one end been tied to a beam, the other end tied to my legs.
"Where's Billy?" Kolby asked, worried.
"They pulled a gun on us Petre Salva's men have taken him." I replied.
"What happened?" Kolby asked.
"Well it's a very long story but the up shot is the original was nicked from him in the first place. He wasn't happy when we told him it was us who nicked it and then tried selling him a fake back instead of the real one. So Petre Salva is holding up Billy until we bring him the real Picasso." I said.
"But we haven't got the real one!" Aubrie cried.
"Uhh, I mentioned that and we argued for a bit, then he uh threatened the amount of violence I wasn't comfortable with so I backed down. He's given us six hours to find it." I explained.
"So what happens if we don't find the painting?" Brad asked.
"Oh he was very specific about that, Billy's a dead man." I said.
-4 hours later-
By this time, we were able to retrieve the real painting, or so we thought. We had stolen it from Harry Holmes, a multimillionaire who would go to so much lengths to get something, even if it meant torture. We found out that a few con artists known as the Mecrary Brothers, sold him a fake. Before we stole it, Holmes was staying at a hotel, and when he saw me, he told me to get out of his room. I said not without the painting because if I didn't then I would never see Billy again. He then started yelled and then he kicked me in the stomache and out of the room. Luckily, Brad pulled the fire alarm, and the four of us ran out of the hotel, with, the painting, at which point we thought was real.
With only ten minutes left, we drove to the deserted warehouse to meet Petre Salva.
-When you live outside the law, on the fringes of society, you're always gonna have days like this. What you might call "A Bad Day In The Office". Well the thing is, not to panic, cos people like this lot are like dogs, they can smell fear. So the trick is to make them think you know something they don't. That way they'll germ it all off killing all day trying to work out what it is.-
"You have brought my painting?" Petre asked me.
"Have you brought my friend?" I responded swiftly.
"Painting first." Petre said, sounding a bit pissed.
"Friend first or there's no deal" I responded.
"I don't think you're in a position to negotiate, do you?" He asked me.
"If you believe that it might be the worst mistake of your life." I said."Now, I see my friend, you see your painting." I smirked.
They brought Billy out of the trunk of their car. He had tape over his mouth and his hands were tied behind his back. One of Petre's men ripped the tape off of Billy's mouth.
"Now your turn." Petre said to me.
As I turned to Brad to get the painting, another car pulled up. It was Harry Holmes.
"Right, so whose got my painting?" Harry asked.
"This is none of your business Harry." Petre said to Harry.
"Well I'm making it my business Boris. I've been dancing around you lot for too long." Harry snapped.
"My name is not Boris." Petre said, angrily.
"It is when I'm talking to you." Harry spat back.
"You know, calling me Boris is racist!" Petre yelled.
"Tough-" Harry started to say.
"Uh, excuse me, can we uh, get on with this please?" I interrupted.
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked me, looking confused.
"What do you think I'm flaming doin' here? I've come to swap this painting- I reached into Brad's bag and pulled out the painting- for my friend." I answered.
"That is MY painting." Harry cried.
"No, MY painting." Petre responded.
"Well I nicked it fair and square." Harry said.
"And now I'm getting it back." Petre replied with a smirk.
"That's enough!" I yelled.
"Who are you shouting at?" Harry asked me.
"You! The pair of ya'! Have you never heard of honour amongst thieves? Kind of, nodding appreciation amongst your peers? Your all like a couple of five year olds! *In a mocking voice* Oh this guy here has nicked my painting. *In regular voice* It's pathetic. And I've had it with both of ya!" I yelled.
"Go get the painting." Petre directed to one of his men.
"Tsk Tsk Tsk" I said while pulling out a pocketknife ready to stab the painting. "I've had a gun pulled out at me earlier, been hung upside down, and kicked up in the air. I've been threatened by at least three nationalities by running around half of the city looking for some stupid picture of a cat in someone's back garden, that looks like it was done by a three year old on a sugar rush!" "I've been lied to, cheated, and generally abused just because me and my friend were trying to earn an honest crust, when Rasputin here went and kidnapped him!"I yelled as I pointed at Petre.
"Hey, Rasputin is worse than Boris!" Petre said angrily.
"I SAID SHUT IT!" I yelled. "Now I don't know whose painting this is and to be quite honest I don't give a flying toss, I've had a very bad day!" I yelled again.
"Do you know who you're talking to?" Harry said cockily.
"Never mind who I'm talking to. You outta worry 'bout who we are son. We're grifters, yeah. This man over here," I pointed at Billy. "He's sold the Eiffel Tower, the Palace of West Minister and the Sydney Opera House. We've broke banks, companies and political parties. We took on the Mathrier in Las Vegas AND we made the London Special Branch look like the Keystone Cops. So nevermind you two threatening us; Now I'm threatening you! We're gonna make you our hobby. Spend sleepless nights working out how to take everything from you, every penny! It won't be just a f*cking painting you'll be worrying about! You'll be working out where you're gonna sleep at night! Cos we're gonna pick you clean, we'll strip every bit of flesh off the bone." I said as I took a breath.
Petre and Harry then started clapping. Then Harry said "Nice speech, I've just one question."
"Yeah, what's that?" I replied.
"How're you lot gonna do that when you're dead? Now give me my painting." Harry said.
"No, No. You give me my painting!" Petre quickly responded.
-Some people never listen do they.-
"I'll tell you what, you can sort it out amongst your selves!' I cried as I threw the painting across the room, with the painting eventually breaking due to all the people hoarding the painting and fighting.
We then took Billy to Eddie's Bar and we told him all that happened.
Then I tried to tell my good friend Conor what happened but he didn't care. Guess I shouldn't've tried to tell him in text. He just said "Go away" "Go away" "Buissy so go away" "Go away" "Go away" "Then go away" "Im buissy".
So I guess he'll never know what happened.....
-One day earlier-
"A Small Cat in a Garden was painted by Pablo Picassoin 1903 in what was known as his Blue Period, it measure 12 inches by 11 inches and was stolen by a private collection in the early hours of Sunday morning." Billy read.
"And the value?" I asked.
"Been in short for three million, and it was stolen by order." Billy responded.
"Is mad Dolly still around?" Aubrie asked.
"My thoughts exactly" Billy said. "Best Picasso forger in Saskatoon."
"Okay, but why do we need someone to forge a painting if its already been stolen?" Brad asked.
"Because its theft has already been reported." Billy said.
"So someone would believe you if you tried to sell it." Brad continued."Brilliant!"
"Yes it is, yes it is." I remarked.
-Back to Present-
Well, potentially brilliant, depending on who you're trying to sell the fake to; and here's a little tip: If you ever find yourself trying to flop a fake Picasso: Don't try and sell it to the guy who the original was nicked from in the first place.
"Alright, here comes the cavalry." I said to myself.
"Caleb!" Brad yelled as he, Aubrie and Kolby got out of the car.
"Gently Brad, gently!"Aubrie said to Brad as he was untying the rope that on one end been tied to a beam, the other end tied to my legs.
"Where's Billy?" Kolby asked, worried.
"They pulled a gun on us Petre Salva's men have taken him." I replied.
"What happened?" Kolby asked.
"Well it's a very long story but the up shot is the original was nicked from him in the first place. He wasn't happy when we told him it was us who nicked it and then tried selling him a fake back instead of the real one. So Petre Salva is holding up Billy until we bring him the real Picasso." I said.
"But we haven't got the real one!" Aubrie cried.
"Uhh, I mentioned that and we argued for a bit, then he uh threatened the amount of violence I wasn't comfortable with so I backed down. He's given us six hours to find it." I explained.
"So what happens if we don't find the painting?" Brad asked.
"Oh he was very specific about that, Billy's a dead man." I said.
-4 hours later-
By this time, we were able to retrieve the real painting, or so we thought. We had stolen it from Harry Holmes, a multimillionaire who would go to so much lengths to get something, even if it meant torture. We found out that a few con artists known as the Mecrary Brothers, sold him a fake. Before we stole it, Holmes was staying at a hotel, and when he saw me, he told me to get out of his room. I said not without the painting because if I didn't then I would never see Billy again. He then started yelled and then he kicked me in the stomache and out of the room. Luckily, Brad pulled the fire alarm, and the four of us ran out of the hotel, with, the painting, at which point we thought was real.
With only ten minutes left, we drove to the deserted warehouse to meet Petre Salva.
-When you live outside the law, on the fringes of society, you're always gonna have days like this. What you might call "A Bad Day In The Office". Well the thing is, not to panic, cos people like this lot are like dogs, they can smell fear. So the trick is to make them think you know something they don't. That way they'll germ it all off killing all day trying to work out what it is.-
"You have brought my painting?" Petre asked me.
"Have you brought my friend?" I responded swiftly.
"Painting first." Petre said, sounding a bit pissed.
"Friend first or there's no deal" I responded.
"I don't think you're in a position to negotiate, do you?" He asked me.
"If you believe that it might be the worst mistake of your life." I said."Now, I see my friend, you see your painting." I smirked.
They brought Billy out of the trunk of their car. He had tape over his mouth and his hands were tied behind his back. One of Petre's men ripped the tape off of Billy's mouth.
"Now your turn." Petre said to me.
As I turned to Brad to get the painting, another car pulled up. It was Harry Holmes.
"Right, so whose got my painting?" Harry asked.
"This is none of your business Harry." Petre said to Harry.
"Well I'm making it my business Boris. I've been dancing around you lot for too long." Harry snapped.
"My name is not Boris." Petre said, angrily.
"It is when I'm talking to you." Harry spat back.
"You know, calling me Boris is racist!" Petre yelled.
"Tough-" Harry started to say.
"Uh, excuse me, can we uh, get on with this please?" I interrupted.
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked me, looking confused.
"What do you think I'm flaming doin' here? I've come to swap this painting- I reached into Brad's bag and pulled out the painting- for my friend." I answered.
"That is MY painting." Harry cried.
"No, MY painting." Petre responded.
"Well I nicked it fair and square." Harry said.
"And now I'm getting it back." Petre replied with a smirk.
"That's enough!" I yelled.
"Who are you shouting at?" Harry asked me.
"You! The pair of ya'! Have you never heard of honour amongst thieves? Kind of, nodding appreciation amongst your peers? Your all like a couple of five year olds! *In a mocking voice* Oh this guy here has nicked my painting. *In regular voice* It's pathetic. And I've had it with both of ya!" I yelled.
"Go get the painting." Petre directed to one of his men.
"Tsk Tsk Tsk" I said while pulling out a pocketknife ready to stab the painting. "I've had a gun pulled out at me earlier, been hung upside down, and kicked up in the air. I've been threatened by at least three nationalities by running around half of the city looking for some stupid picture of a cat in someone's back garden, that looks like it was done by a three year old on a sugar rush!" "I've been lied to, cheated, and generally abused just because me and my friend were trying to earn an honest crust, when Rasputin here went and kidnapped him!"I yelled as I pointed at Petre.
"Hey, Rasputin is worse than Boris!" Petre said angrily.
"I SAID SHUT IT!" I yelled. "Now I don't know whose painting this is and to be quite honest I don't give a flying toss, I've had a very bad day!" I yelled again.
"Do you know who you're talking to?" Harry said cockily.
"Never mind who I'm talking to. You outta worry 'bout who we are son. We're grifters, yeah. This man over here," I pointed at Billy. "He's sold the Eiffel Tower, the Palace of West Minister and the Sydney Opera House. We've broke banks, companies and political parties. We took on the Mathrier in Las Vegas AND we made the London Special Branch look like the Keystone Cops. So nevermind you two threatening us; Now I'm threatening you! We're gonna make you our hobby. Spend sleepless nights working out how to take everything from you, every penny! It won't be just a f*cking painting you'll be worrying about! You'll be working out where you're gonna sleep at night! Cos we're gonna pick you clean, we'll strip every bit of flesh off the bone." I said as I took a breath.
Petre and Harry then started clapping. Then Harry said "Nice speech, I've just one question."
"Yeah, what's that?" I replied.
"How're you lot gonna do that when you're dead? Now give me my painting." Harry said.
"No, No. You give me my painting!" Petre quickly responded.
-Some people never listen do they.-
"I'll tell you what, you can sort it out amongst your selves!' I cried as I threw the painting across the room, with the painting eventually breaking due to all the people hoarding the painting and fighting.
We then took Billy to Eddie's Bar and we told him all that happened.
Then I tried to tell my good friend Conor what happened but he didn't care. Guess I shouldn't've tried to tell him in text. He just said "Go away" "Go away" "Buissy so go away" "Go away" "Go away" "Then go away" "Im buissy".
So I guess he'll never know what happened.....
