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Leonard's voice came through the phone: "It's nothing serious, Ron, don't do anything rash. Sheldon and I came to help Penny retrieve the TV she left at her ex-boyfriend's place, but there was a... communication breakdown."
Sheldon's voice chimed in: "Ron, they took our pants."
Ron was speechless.
It's well-known that Texans are considered some of the toughest people in America—a state that breeds heroes and hardened individuals. The Cooper family was no exception to this reputation, but there was definitely something off about Sheldon.
"So you two are just wandering around the streets in your underwear?"
"No, we're sitting in Leonard's car in our boxers," Sheldon replied.
Ron felt slightly embarrassed, but what could he do? Sheldon was his little brother, after all. It was an older brother's duty to look out for his younger sibling, and he decided to handle this situation the Texas way.
But first, he couldn't resist messing with his perpetually uptight brother.
"Send me your location and sit tight. I'll bring you both new pants."
Ron got in his car and, in less than thirty minutes, arrived at the location Sheldon had texted him. Along with two new pairs of pants, he'd also brought a digital camera.
The moment Sheldon stepped out of the car, Ron whipped out the camera and started snapping photos.
"Come on, Sheldon, smile for your big brother! Maybe strike a pose!"
"Ron!" Sheldon protested angrily.
Ron grinned wickedly. "Ha! You look absolutely ridiculous like this. I bet George and Missy would pay good money for these photos. Or would you prefer to pay me instead?"
"Ron, that's blackmail!" Sheldon accused while hurriedly pulling on his pants.
"So you gonna call the cops? Excuse me, I am the cops." Ron held his hand to his ear like a phone and pitched his voice to mock Sheldon's tone.
"Hello, 911? I'd like to report a crime. Someone took embarrassing photos of me on the street and is threatening me with blackmail. What's that? Why would someone take compromising photos of me in public? Well, obviously it's because I enjoy streaking through the neighborhood!"
"Ron, I'm telling Mom what happened today!"
"Telling Mom? So she can ground me? How old do you think you are right now?" Ron continued tormenting Sheldon. He'd had more fun today than he'd had all year.
Leonard stepped in to mediate. "Ron, I'm sorry. Can we please go home now? Everything that happened today is my fault. I apologize for getting your brother involved. I'll reimburse you for the pants later."
Ron clapped Leonard on the shoulder reassuringly. "Hey, you've got nothing to apologize for. Actually, I should be thanking you for letting me capture such priceless footage. Trust me, my family's going to love this stuff. But forget about paying for the pants."
"Why?" Leonard asked.
"Because someone else is going to cover the cost," Ron said, pointing upward toward the apartment building. "Let's just say he messed with my brother, and I'm going to return the favor. My brother—only I get to pick on him! Time to show this guy what Texas justice looks like. Let's go!"
Ron shoved the camera into Leonard's hands. Leonard fumbled to catch it, and when he looked up, Ron was already heading into the elevator.
"Sheldon."
"What?" Sheldon adjusted his pants and checked himself in the car's side mirror with satisfaction.
"I think calling Ron was a mistake."
Leonard was starting to feel guilty. It had been his idea to call Ron over, but judging by Ron's demeanor just now, he looked ready to tear that bastard apart limb from limb.
"Why would you say that?"
"Originally, I was just pissed off at that jerk, but now I'm genuinely worried about his survival."
"Don't sweat it. Ron's always been very calculated. He's been getting into scraps since he was a kid, but he's never seriously hurt anyone. That's why Dad considers him the least troublesome of us kids."
Ding dong!
Ron rang the doorbell.
"I already told you losers—if you two weaklings show up here again, I'll definitely kill you both—"
A muscular man about Ron's size opened the door. He was in the middle of threatening the "two weaklings" with a menacing tone when he suddenly stopped mid-sentence.
As he spoke, Ron had pressed the barrel of his Glock 22 against the man's teeth. A chill instantly ran through the guy's entire body, and he felt a warm wetness in his underwear.
"Listen carefully, moron. I have extremely limited patience. I'm only going to say everything once and won't repeat myself. Understood?"
The muscular man nodded frantically, terrified that Ron might accidentally pull the trigger and end his life.
"Buddy, take whatever you want, just don't hurt me."
Ron was pleased with his cooperation.
"I'm not interested in your cheap crap. I'm here to inform you that you've messed with the wrong people. One of those two 'weaklings' was my little brother, and you had the balls to strip off his pants? You've dishonored my family! So I can only offer you two options. Option one: I put a bullet in your mouth that comes out your ass. Option two: The bullet goes in your ass and comes out your mouth. Your choice!"
Ron spoke casually, as if discussing the weather.
He had no intention of actually harming the guy, but he still needed to make a strong impression.
The muscular man couldn't hold it together anymore. His pants grew warm as a wet stain spread from the center. He dropped to his knees and begged desperately: "You can't do this to me! You'll get in trouble too!"
"No, you're mistaken. I won't get in any trouble. See what this is?"
Ron produced his IRS badge and waved it in front of the trembling man. "As you can observe, I'm a federal law enforcement officer, and I'm definitely not here for something as petty as avenging my brother. I'm here because I received a tip from a concerned citizen about drug dealing on these premises."
Ron pocketed his badge, reached into his jacket again, and pulled out the drug sample he'd shown Toretto earlier, stuffing it into the muscular man's palm.
"Look at that—he's still holding the evidence!"
The burly man was so terrified he nearly broke down crying. He immediately threw the drugs to the floor as if they were on fire. "No! These aren't mine! You're framing me!"
Ron glared menacingly at the kneeling man. "You're absolutely right. I am framing you. What are you gonna do about it?"
"Oh wait, I almost forgot about this little detail."
Ron produced a switchblade and forced it into the man's hand. This time, the guy refused to grip it, letting the knife clatter to the floor.
"No problem. Doesn't matter if you don't grab it—your fingerprints are on it anyway. So now I'm charging you with drug trafficking, resisting arrest, and assaulting a federal officer. That should be enough to put you away for life, right? Scumbag? But I'm not some corrupt cop. How about I give you an opportunity to make this right?"
Ron's fierce expression vanished, instantly replaced by an unnervingly pleasant demeanor. If Sheldon had seen this particular smile, he would have run as far away as possible. This was the exact expression Ron always wore when he was concocting elaborate schemes to torment his younger brother.
End of Chapter 5
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