City of AngelsAfter the third explosion we ran for cover as usual, and took shelter at Van's place because it was closest, just down past Cole's Pacific Electric Buffet and three streets over, on South Alameda. At first no one talked for a few minutes. The image of a flying smokestack was still doing repeats in our heads.
"This is the sort of thing WE oughta get blown up for," Van commented, pulling some paper cups out of the cabinet and a case of beer from the fridge. His dad was out.
"Electrocuted," I corrected him.
"You don't get fried till you're eighteen," Raygun said. "They'd just send us to juvie."
Odie made a disgusted face at his "fried."
I glanced at her, and then said to no one, "Why do we do it?"
"Because we hate L.A.," Raygun answered immediately.
"We're gonna destroy the whole country at this rate," I said.
"Ah, it was never that great a place anyway." Van handed me a cup of beer.
"It's like we're creating the new Atlantis," said Minty, her eyes thin with imagining. "We'll get blown to pieces and fall into the sea, and in a million years there will be legends about us."
Raygun laughed. "Legends?"
"Why not?"
There was silence for a few minutes as we all pretended to enjoy our beer.
"We should do the Hadley Building next," Raygun muttered. "Buncha fat-cat idiots who work in there. They deserve to have their asses blown to high hell."
"Yeah, some guy with a corner office in the Hadley made up a reason to get my dad fired from the plant, and it worked," Van commented.
"Why'd he want to get him fired?" Odie asked.
"'Cause he's black, duh." Van grinned at her. "What, never happened to your folks? Maybe they keep a lower profile."
Odie frowned. The rest of us, three white kids whose parents had never been fired by a fat-cat in a corner office, all looked at the floor, or out the window.
"Nah, I think we ought to head out to West Hollywood," Van finally said with a sigh. "Detonate the Wiltshire Country Club and then cruise the Miracle Mile."
I smirked at his cavalier tone, and Odie looked disturbed. Minty liked the idea, though. "If we're going that far, why not just do Beverly Hills?" she suggested. "Those airhead celebrities could use some dynamite. And then we could hide down in Franklin Canyon if the cops got there too quick."
"Yeah, they probably would too," Raygun said. "Seein' as celebs are more valuable than the rest of us and all that."
Odie snorted, and Van raised a considering eyebrow.
"Screw that." I crumpled my paper cup and stared out the window at the smoggy, craggy skyline of Los Angeles. "Let's go straight to the source. Let's blow up the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels."
There was silence from the others. They couldn't think of any reason not to.