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11. Book x Nickel x Leafy - Eat the Rich

somehow came up with this concept watching memeulous' second channel lol

Rich people have too much fucking money.
I bet they hardly use any of those huge, fancy rooms in their Los Angeles mansions, do they?
That money would be much better spent supporting working class families or cleaning up the earth, but to name a few worthy causes.
But no... all these pampered white men know is drive their Tiny-Dickmobile sports cars, evade taxes and brag.
Would they even notice if parts of their homes began disappearing one by one?
Or... maybe if somebody were to invade them?

Nickel dropped his pen to the desk, where it clattered in a circle. He lived in a relatively nice house right now. He liked where he was. He had a stable job as a freelance journalist, a decent monthly wage, money to spare for a rainy day, etc. etc. etc.
But what really bothered him was how much poverty he'd seen in his life. At first, he hadn't felt pain or sorrow in his chest to see people struggling to make ends meet, as it was normal. He experienced it as a child. He was always fed, that was for sure, his mother always made certain there was a meal on the table three times a day for him and his siblings, but he realised later in life he'd never seen his mother join them for dinner. She hadn't been able to feed herself. She'd put all of it into nourishing her kids. A selfless act, that Nickel felt like both he and so many other people had taken for granted.
When his mother died, he sat down at his desk and passionately wrote an obituary that was still probably his proudest work to date. He felt like he owed it to her that she have the publicity for her incredible sacrifices. And that was what had got him into journalism. Mother Penny was helping him down the right path even after death.
He'd worked super hard to get where he was, and yes, he was sure all the other rich people had worked hard too for what they had, but it didn't hurt to share a little. Nickel had leant several hundred dollars to his little sisters when they were starting out away from home and needed a few extra funds, whilst billionaires and bloody Bezos were sitting on stacks of golden coins that weren't going anywhere fast. It was infuriating. Most of the bastards probably had enough money to buy Nickel's whole extended family ten luxury yachts each, and yet not one of them could bear to part with more than a few measly thousand. He shouldn't really be complaining about that, after all, money is money, yet surely they could do something far bigger than just hoard? Anyway. Long story short, rich people made Nickel mad as fuck.
And he wanted to write a piece about that. Maybe do an experiment? He'd had wet dreams about robbing Jeff Bezos' back account and spreading wealth below the poverty line. Perhaps that would be possible on a micro-scale, where the only thing he'd be taking away was space and pride.
He wanted to break into an expensive mansion. He would sneak into the garden under cover of darkness, tiptoe around the front, scale the face of the house and walk right in across the balcony. Probably through one of those obnoxiously large sliding glass doors. Oh, and he'd have to watch out not to fall into the inevitable fire pit that would be directly below him when swinging down onto the terrace.
He would live there for a month. Maybe longer if he was lucky, or if he found himself enjoying the lavish lifestyle. He would write an eye-opening article on it, and make a statement, saying that millionaires and billionaires don't need their houses if they aren't going to use 90% of the rooms. He'd probably be arrested for breaking and entering, but it would be totally worth it. It was doubtful he would be able to lay bare the prejudice behind capitalism just by living like a rich man illegally for a couple of weeks, but he'd be damn sure to try. Maybe he could invite a few other perspectives to join him. That might be fun. Could also help back him up, and provide a fresh eye on his piece...
Yeah! He'd give a few people a call.
He picked up his phone from the other side of the desk, tapped it open, and raised it to his ear ready to speak.
"Hello, Book! Is Leafy there?"

They got through into the grounds by scaling the wall, and wriggling under the hedge. The three of them, armed with nothing but a toothbrush each and scared out of their wits. The three, trotting across the side of the modern mansion over the tennis court and around a fountain. Nickel had used to do parkour for a few years, so scaling the actual structure would probably be an absolute doddle. It was how he met Leafy, actually.
There had been a group, the Beepsters, that were the main parkour experts of their side of town. It was just a fun thing to do after school, and it all had soon progressed from little children jumping from one brick wall to another shouting "parkour!" to scaling the sides of buildings. They never ran far. It was more just practicing, mastering the art, just on a few houses. Leafy was Nickel's neighbour for nearly his entire childhood; she was slightly better off than him, which led to a lot of Nickel being sent off to eat dinner there in the afternoons. When he was older, he saw it pained his mother to rely on other people like that, but sometimes there was no option. And it's not like it was particularly dishonest either. Nickel liked Leafy. It was probably the sole reason they both became such masters of leaping and climbing, as they'd had all that practice in the back yard when Nickel was over for tea.
But now, they both stood here as adults. Book was present too, wary and unsettled at the surroundings.
"I'm just saying... the owner or another resident only has to SEE us and he'll shoot! We're trespassing, Nickel. This isn't the right way to go."
Leafy slipped her hand into her fiancée's, squeezing it encouragingly.
"Aw, honey. I know you suck at athletic stuff but you don't need to worry! I'll help you up."
"That's CLEARLY not why I'm worried!"
"Sure it isn't!"
Nickel had learnt to ignore their squabbles. He took a drainpipe in his hands, pressed his feet flat to the wall and started to pull himself skyward, closing in on their target balcony. The dry wood platform beckoned 30 feet above. He wasn't going to wait for those two to sort anything out. He'd be there all night. Hearing Book's uncertain voice and Leafy's instructions, he focused on the prize.
"Ok, grab the pipe in your hands. Good! Press the soles of your shoes up against the wall."
Feeling the hard tug of weight on her shoulder sockets, Book warily obliged.
"Nice! Nice! Try walking upwards. Pretend it's abseiling, but in reverse. I'll stand down here for you in case you fall."
Images of security cameras flashed through Book's mind. They could be hidden in any crevice, any shaded nook or cranny away from the wind. They must be watching... it was all very stressful. She blocked out absolutely all thoughts and started walking vertically, slowly taking each further piece of drainpipe in her hands like a chameleon that just didn't blend in. The fact that Leafy was there as a safety net underneath was easing her anxiety, but it was all still high. Needles jabbed her biceps and her chest. She hoped she was nearly there.
And she was. A powerful arm snatched her wrist, helping her transfer her aching body over onto the outside of the balcony railing. Book lifted her leg shakily to mount the glass barrier, and slipped over into successful bliss. Leafy gave a quiet, beaming cheer and a few muted claps before shinning the pole and skipped the partition between trespasser and intruder in a heartbeat.