Graffiti

Officer Fredrick shook his head in disgust at the blatant disrespect for authority that was the graffiti stained walls of the Police Office. He knew that they were supposed to be the names of whatever "crew" the people who had done the graffiti were supposed to belong to, but he couldn't make out any of the bloody words. They're attempts to seem "cool" and "hip" looked like little more than a babe's attempt at copying written words he had seen, with no grasp of their meaning or purpose.

The "art" covered nearly every wall of the building. There had been a power outage the night before - no doubt caused by the thugs who had painted such crude markings for specifically that reason - and so the security cameras had been useless. There was no way of knowing who had defaced the office, and no way of proving it, either. Fredrick sighed to himself, muttering about what he would do if he ever caught them.

As he entered the building, he missed that one of the crude looking faces of a barely recognizable man, dressed in a sick perversion of the police uniform, opened its eyes and looked quickly back and forth. It was checking to make sure that Fredrick had left. Seeing the coast was clear, the thin layer of paint began to peel itself off, headfirst. It pulled and tugged itself away from the wall, leaving a clean and smooth surface behind it, until it came off completely and fell to the floor.

It picked itself up, trying to move quickly, but held back by its lack of dimension. It could barely stand its ground when a soft breeze blew by, knocking it around. It shook its legs first, and after a few attempts they popped out, filling the third dimension as a normal man's legs. Next the arms, shaking harder and more flexibly, until they too popped out. The body, now a two dimensional torso and head with three dimensional limbs, was able to hold its place, but if anyone were to come by and see it, it would be dragged away for sure, either to be killed or experimented on. It could only pray to find a new hiding space before it was caught.

It made a mad dash away from the Police Office, shaking its head wildly back and forth as it went until it, too, popped back into the third dimension, revealing a young man's face covered in paint. He slipped into a back alleyway a short distance from the office and, under cover of darkness, began scrubbing away at the paint on his face with one hand, and attempting to shake his torso back to proportion with the other. The paint came off much easier than his midsection came back to normal.

"I really have to get it a better hang of this shit," he muttered to himself as his chest decompressed. He looked back around the corner of the alleyway to see that the Officer had still not returned, and ran quickly away, praying that he was safe.

Officer Fredrick came out a minute later, a bucket of water in one hand and a new recruit following close behind. "Alright, son, time to start cleaning," he said. "And I want every inch of this wall spick and span, or I swear..." That was when the no barren spot on the wall, a silhouette of a person, caught his attention. "What in the world...? I could have sworn there was nothing left unpainted..."