Bad Boys

Easter Sunday

The plan that year was to have Easter dinner at the Rathole.

One of a half dozen apartments made out of sheetrock, spit, and drywall inside of a former unitarian church, the Rathole had been handed down from newly graduated Dartmouth alumni to rising seniors inside the Campus Crusade for Christ network for successive rental seasons going back for years. It was just two rooms—three if you counted the kitchen alcove—and a tiny bathroom, just big enough for a sink, toilet and shower stall.

At first, it was just John and Mike living there, and it was tidy and homey and as clean as any old apartment can be. There was a La-Z-Boy recliner, an ancient, but comfortable couch, a floor lamp, a coffee table and, their pride and joy, a large tv. John’s life size poster of John Wayne hung on the wall behind the recliner and his movie poster of “A Fish Called Wanda” hung above the couch. In the bedroom was Mike’s newish futon, which was made up respectably with sheets and blankets and John’s mattress,…