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Jason was your average nine year old, causing mischief around town on a regular basis. Unlike most others, he had a bad habit of pulling pranks on people, just about everybody in town. For instance, he once replaced Mrs. Davis' can of hairspray with blue spray paint. She was not pleased. He filled Mr. Johnson's shoes with tapioca pudding. He wasn't pleased either. He even shaved Mr. Frederic’s dog, and, appalled at the sight, he nearly got shot. His parents couldn't help him much. His father was overseas, involved in some Cold War business, and his mother had two jobs, rarely ever seeing her son.

It started when he found an odd pair of shoes. They were gray sneakers with blue shoelaces. The day after, his dad announced to the family he was off to join the army. Jason's mother wouldn't talk to him for days, as though it were his fault that his dad left. She had to get another job as a cashier at the supermarket, and Jason grew more and more distant from her, seeing her only about once every three months. When he did see her, it was only for a minute or two, before she was off to work.

One day, he was planning on pulling the ultimate prank. Near the city was an old military armory, supposedly empty, but Jason had done quite a bit of exploring, and knew the entire city like the back of his hand. The armory, however, was full of military-grade weapons, vehicles, and hundreds of tons of other things that could get a little boy in a lot of trouble. There was one thing that caught his eye in particular, and his prank was pretty straightforward and basic, to make something go boom. But what caught his eye? Only a few pounds of C-4 plastique.

He planned to set it off outside behind the drugstore, just for kicks, you know? He read the instructions, followed them, and managed to come up with a remote detonator. Once the explosive ordinance was in place, he flipped the top of the detonator, and started to run. But, as soon as he took off, he tripped on a rock and unintentionally pressed the button. Sure, they found his remains, along with the collapsed back wall of the drug store, and the five meter blast zone. But do you know what some unlucky soul found three-quarters of a mile away, twenty or so years later? His kicks, eager to claim another victim.