Wade had sat in that torn chair in the interrogation room because he was thought to be responsible for Seth father's death. Seth was his best friend, a cool white guy that favored Brad Pitt. They were friends since the eighth grade, when Wade beat down the bullies that picked on Seth in his way to the bus stop in the morning.

Wade was a stocky twenty-two year-old with long cornrows that extended to the middle of his upper back (occasionally making many females in West Palm amazed and jealous at the same time), and he never wore bright clothing—a thug, in other words. It was his face and his actions that had his own dad dud him the Toy Devil.

He didn't look like a demon (if that popped in anyone's head). Wade was too intelligent to be one of Satan's angels. The devil had many forms (the film industry contributed much to this), and Wade's facade would have to be one of them. His eyes were dark and bold; his nose was thin; his eyebrows were thick; his face was long with a pointed chin; his lips were even thinner that his nose; and he had a pierced left brow. If all of that didn't give him a devilish appearance, then his height (six-three), his tattoos (which were self-made with sterilized razors, needles and pen ink), and his sharp beard did.

Not to mention that diabolical smile of his.

Being a prankster, Wade was the first was to jump at the position of creating a birthday present for Seth's dad, Garrett. His plan: to tie the fifty-six year-old Garrett at Seth's house and have some strippers—Wade called them skrippers—to come and play with him. He told Seth, and brought his other two friends, Mikey and Juan, into it. Wade already knew who he could hire to strip—Heidi Nunez and Mercedes Ackham. They were skrippers before they were employed at Hot Topic in the West Palm Mall across from Spencer's, where he liked him and was more than happy to do strip (they both were actually, since they were getting a hundred and fifty dollars apiece to do it). The truth was, Wade liked Mercedes back, but not the way that singer did it that song that went: "I'm in love with a stripper..."

They all net over Juan's pad on Glade Avenue five days before the days before the day Wade was interrogated. Since had the blueprints to the prank, he opted he would stay outside of Seth's house to tell the rest of them what to do via their Nextel Walkie-Talkies. Mikey, however, wasn't too happy with that; he was a large twenty-three year-old who must've thought that since he was the biggest, he should run the operation. When he suddenly changed his mind, he must've known two important things: that his wit was nothing compared to Wade's, and that if he got on Wade's bad side, the Toy devil would once more pull another naughty prank on him the very next day. Wade had done everything in the book the Mikey, from putting tacky glue on his car seat to switching one of Mikey's I Love Florida shirts that he always wore to his life-guarding post with an I Love Dudes shirt.

(just jokes)

Out of Wade's three best friends, the big guy was the most gullible, and the big guy knew that, so he let Wade be in charge of the joke against Seth's dad.

Something told Wade that he should have watched Mikey more closely after that little dispute, but he ignored it.

It was now nighttime, and Seth told the them that he'd tell his dad that he was going to the mall, leaving ole Garrett there so the prank could occur easily. The old guy hadn't known that Mikey and Juan were in Seth's room, dressing up like bandits in black as the plan ordered. Wade could picture the kind of thugs the old guy would encounter: one big and dopey-looking and the another one short with a slick ponytail hanging out of his ski mask with the three holes—the same kind of thugs that were a crime lord's suckup subordinates.

Wade, Heidi and Mercedes were out in the back yard.

"Yo," Wade said over the walkie-talkie in his Southern accent. He had the ability to speak Northern, but there wasn't any use for down in Florida—people there always looked at him funny when he did. "Go 'head and tie 'em up. And be careful not to hurt 'em, especially you, Mikey. Ya big ass might sit on him."

Heidi and Mercedes, the two sexy brunettes next to him in heels, giggled.

"Okay, fucker," the walkie-talkie responded with Mikey's bass tone.

At last, after seven minutes, Wade's walkie-talkie beeped. "We got 'em," it said. It sounded like Juan, the Puerto-Rican guy that once tried to start a feud with Wade when they were younger. The Toy Devil had come from New Jersey, and when he moved to Florida at age thirteen, Juan and his little gang called the Glade Avenue Murda Clique had tried to beat Wade up for sticking up for one of their regular victims, Seth Heyward. The Toy Devil had fought half of the fourteen-member gang and succeeded miraculously; afterwards, Juan had no choice but to call a truce with the Jersey native and eventually joined Wade's side when his Murda Clique lost its Murda qualities and died off. The both of them including Seth and Michael Hoff, the big white guy from most of Wade's classes in middle school, had become good friends—despite Wade's endless, playful assault on them over the years.

"Alright," said Wade. "Heidi and Mercedes are 'bout to come through the front."

As the brunettes started for the front door, the walkie-talkie beeped again. "Yo, Seth's dad is shaking like a maraca in here!" It now sounded like Mikey again, only this time the voice sounded frightened.

"What?" Wade exclaimed, sounding a little frightened himself. He saw Heidi and Mercedes look back from the side of the house alarmed.

"Seth's dad! He was just shaking, and now he looks dead!"

"What's wrong wit him, man?" Wade's heart was doing jumping jacks at this point.

"I think he had a heart attack or somethin! Oh shit...he ain't breathin!"

Wade looked up bug-eyed in the night. He thought he'd see the bulging eyes of the two skrippers he hired for this special occasion, but they were nowhere in sight. He started to look around frantically until the walkie-talkie in his quivering palm beeped yet again.

"I think he's dead, Wade," the walkie-talkie whispered. It was Juan again. "Yo, I'm about to jet like hell up outta here!"

That was enough to make the Toy Devil jet like hell, too. He ran around the house and out of the front gate in his Nike flip-flops and socks (courtesy of Foot Locker with a thirty-percent discount because he worked at Spencer's). As he ran, a big red van across the dark street distracted him a bit; the moon and the streetlights revealed the white MTV logo on it. Wow, MTV is in West Palm, he thought as he sprinted. He would've stopped to check it out, but when you might be blamed for the involvement of the death of an old white dude, you had to get somewhere far from the scene and fast.