Chapter 5: A Bloodbath Caused by a TV
Leonard's voice replaced Sheldon's on the line.
"It's nothing serious, Ron. Don't overreact. Sheldon and I came to help Penny retrieve her TV from her ex's place. Things… got a little out of hand during the negotiation."
Then Sheldon chimed back in, deadpan as ever, "Ron, someone took our pants."
Ron was speechless.
Texans were famously known for being the most macho folks in America—the land of heroes or hot-headed fools. The Cooper family was no exception… except, of course, for Sheldon.
"So… what? You two are butt-naked in the street right now?"
Sheldon replied seriously, "No, we're in our underwear. Sitting in Leonard's car."
Ron felt a wave of secondhand embarrassment. But hey, what could he do? Sheldon was his little brother. And taking care of your younger brother was what big brothers did—especially in Texas.
Still, that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun at Sheldon's expense first.
"Send me your location and sit tight," Ron said. "I'll bring you two some pants."
Ron jumped in his car. Less than half an hour later, he pulled up to the spot Sheldon had shared. Besides two fresh pairs of pants, he brought something else—a camera.
As soon as Sheldon stepped out of the car, Ron raised the camera and started snapping away like a paparazzo.
"Come on, Sheldon—give big bro a smile! Maybe change up the pose!"
"Ron!" Sheldon shouted, face flushing red with shame and fury.
Ron grinned wickedly. "Haha! You look hilarious. I bet George and Missy would love to buy these pics. Or… you could pay me to delete them?"
"Ron! This is blackmail!" Sheldon shouted as he hurried to pull on the new pants.
"And what, you gonna call the cops?" Ron smirked, putting a hand to his ear and mimicking a call in a high-pitched voice.
"Hello? Police? I'm being blackmailed with nude photos taken on the street. What? Why was I naked on the street? Oh, I just really enjoy streaking!"
"Ron! I will tell Mom about this!"
"Oh no, not Mom! She's totally gonna ground me! What am I, twelve?" Ron kept teasing, clearly having more fun than he'd had all year.
Leonard finally stepped in, trying to deescalate. "Ron, I'm sorry. Can we just go home now? This whole thing was my fault, and I feel awful for dragging your brother into it. I'll pay you back for the pants."
Ron gave Leonard a firm pat on the shoulder. "No need to apologize. Honestly, I should be thanking you—for giving me gold like this. Trust me, my whole family's gonna love these shots."
"But… what about the pants money?" Leonard asked, confused.
"No worries. Someone else already paid for them."
Ron pointed toward the building.
"If you really need a reason—let's just say someone in there bullied my little brother. And I don't let that slide.
My brother? Only I get to mess with him. Time to show that guy what it means to mess with a Texan. Catch!"
He tossed the camera toward Leonard, who fumbled to catch it, and before either of them could react, Ron had already disappeared into the elevator.
"Sheldon…"
"What?"
Sheldon was admiring his reflection in the side mirror, clearly pleased with how the pants fit.
"I think… calling Ron was a mistake."
Leonard was starting to feel genuinely guilty. It was his idea to bring Ron in, after all. But the way Ron marched in just now? It looked like he was ready to tear that jerk limb from limb.
"Why do you say that?"
"I was just mad at the guy before. Now I'm worried about his survival."
"Relax. Ron always knows where the line is. He's been getting into fights since he was a kid. But he's never seriously hurt anyone. That's why Dad always said he was the least trouble out of all of us."
---
Ding—
(The elevator arrives…)
Ron rang the doorbell.
The door swung open, and a burly man—just as muscular as Ron—immediately started barking threats the moment he saw someone at the door.
"I told you two wimps that if you dared come back, I'd—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
Because before he could finish, Ron had already shoved the barrel of a Glock 22 straight into his mouth. A chill rushed down the man's spine, spreading through his whole body—and even left a bit of unexpected warmth in his underwear.
"Listen up, moron," Ron said coldly. "I'm not the patient type. So I'm only going to say this once. Got it?"
The guy nodded frantically, terrified Ron might accidentally pull the trigger.
"Man, whatever you want, take it! Just—just don't hurt me."
Ron smirked, satisfied with his cooperation.
"I don't care about your junk. I'm here to let you know—you picked the wrong guy to mess with.
Those two 'wimps' you saw earlier? One of them's my brother. And you had the balls to pull down his pants?
You embarrassed my family! So now, I'm going to give you two choices:
Option one, I pull the trigger, and the bullet goes in through your mouth and out your ass.
Option two, the bullet goes in your ass and comes out your mouth.
Your pick."
Ron leaned in with a wide, devil-may-care grin, eyes burning with mock-casual menace. He didn't actually plan on hurting the guy—but the intimidation? That was very, very real.
The man couldn't take it anymore. His legs gave out. A dark stain spread across the crotch of his pants as he collapsed to his knees, begging desperately.
"Please, man, don't do this! You'll get yourself into serious trouble!"
Ron raised an eyebrow and pulled something from his coat.
"Trouble? Nah, see, that's where you're wrong. You know what this is?"
He flashed a badge in front of the trembling man's face.
"IRS. That's right—I'm a federal agent. And I'm not here over some petty grudge about my brother. I came because of an anonymous tip. This place? Word is, there's a drug dealer operating here."
Ron tucked the badge away and reached back into his coat, pulling out the same baggie of drugs he'd shown off to Toretto earlier. He shoved it into the man's hands.
"Look! He's holding drugs right now!"
The man practically threw the bag to the ground like it was on fire.
"No! That's not mine! You planted it! You're framing me!"
Ron leaned in, eyes gleaming with cold satisfaction.
"Yep. I'm framing you. What are you gonna do about it?"
"Oh—right! Almost forgot something!"
He pulled out a knife and tried to press it into the man's hand. The guy panicked and recoiled, letting the blade clatter to the floor instead.
"No problem," Ron said with a shrug. "Your fingerprints are already on it anyway.
So here's how this is going to go: possession of narcotics, resisting arrest, and assaulting an officer. Three solid felonies. Should be more than enough to keep a piece of trash like you locked up for the rest of your sorry life."
He paused, then suddenly dropped the aggression.
His face softened into a bright, almost innocent smile—a look that would've made Sheldon run for his life had he seen it. It was Ron's classic "I've got a terrible idea and you're going to hate it" smile.
"But hey… I'm not that kind of cop. How about I give you a chance?"