Us
Eight Years Ago:
“You know that if the sun dries the eggs on these cars, the paint will ruin!” Dana always tried to keep the punks in line, and he always failed. They were not all punks. Chris (the asshole), Jeremy, and Ryan were, But Michael and Aaron were metal heads. It’s funny how subcultures are sometimes defined by what style of rock and roll they follow. This just goes to show how important good music is in America.
In any case, The Punks hurled eggs at the cars that were parked in a wealthy sub-division north of Mobile Alabama. Chris leans out the passenger side window and smashes one right on the hood of Dana’s car. “You better wash this one off tonight, hahahaha!” The rest of the group laughs along with him.
There was not much more to do in this town for a group of young punks who were too old to be in bed, but too young to get into the night clubs that they would rather be in.
Michael, Aaron, Jeremy, and Ryan were packed into the back of Dana’s small car; Chris rode shotgun, as always. They had boosted several boxes of eggs from the grocery store an hour earlier.
“You are an asshole, Chris!” Dana yelled as he exited the sub-division. “Yeah, I know. People keep telling me.” The other four laugh as Dana drives onto the main highway.
When you find good friends like this, you know that you have done something right. You feel a sense of security, like an epiphany that you will never be alone again your whole life. This kind of stuff is forever.
Dana passes a police car that is parked on the side of the road. “Shit! Chris is in the car!” Michael complains and Chris turns around to smack him. “You say that like I am a convict or something.” Chris defends himself and Michael snaps back quickly “, No, I say that like you attract the cops everywhere we go.” Chris flips Michael off. Michael laughs and says “, I’ve got five dollars that says we see blue lights in less than a minute.” “You’re on,” Chris challenges him. “I’m keeping time,” Jeremy, the brainiac offers his services.
Everyone in the car is silent and still, until Dana can’t fight the urge to turn around to see behind him. “Don’t look back, you fucktard!” Chris smacks Dana on the back of the head. Seven seconds later, blue lights start flickering throughout the inside of Dana’s car. Jeremy blurts out “, thirty five pint five seconds!”
“Damn!” Chris concedes as he hands Michael five dollars. “Stash those eggs, fast!” Dana screams as he nearly shits his pants. “Where the fuck am I going to stash seven boxes of eggs?” Ryan asks through a sarcastic voice. “Shit,” Dana replied, nearly in tears.
Dana pulls over into a closed gas station parking lot. They all sit quiet and still as they wait for the cop to approach the vehicle. “The officer is obviously waiting for backup, due to the number of people in the vehicle,” Jeremy says, being the usual brainiac. “Shut the fuck up,” everyone else replies in unison. Seconds later, two more patrol cars pull up and the first cop exits his vehicle and begins to swagger toward Dana’s car.
This is a fairly young cop, in his late twenties. He looks very clean-cut and by-the-book. He reaches Dana’s window and raps twice on it with his flashlight. Dana complies and rolls his window down.
The officer greets the punks with his deep Alabama accent. “Mornin’ boys, y’all out kinda late ain’t ya?”
Even though everyone in the vehicle is from Alabama, and most of their family members speak this way, this Alabama draw never ceases to provoke tear jerking laughter from them. They suppress their laughter as long as they can, that is until Chris opens his smart ass mouth. “Actually, we’re up kind of early, officer. It’s three thirty in the morning.” The officer rolls his eyes at Chris and says “, Well, are y’all headed to the house, or what?”
Now, all of the punks in the car are from Alabama, and they know the geographical vernacular just fine. Not one of them have any trouble understanding Alabamian, but Chris can’t help himself.
“What house would you be referring to, sir?” Chris smarted back to the cop. “I don’t know where ‘the house’ is.” “Now do you see why cops don’t like you, dumbass?” Michael whispered to Chris.
The officer laughs for a moment, then opens Dana’s door for him. “Step out boys, line up against the vehicle. I’m sure this ain’t your first fuckin’ rodeo.” And it wasn’t.
The boys pile out of Dana’s car and line up against it, all smiles and giggles. “Boys, my name is Officer Weaver. I’m new to Mobile, but I ain’t new to being a cop. I certainly ain’t new to young, smart ass kids like yourselves,” Officer Weaver introduces himself to the motley crew.
One of the other officers frisks the boys one by one. Officer Weaver watches from the other side of the car and laughs when Michael makes sex faces when it is his turn.
Weaver looks through Dana’s car with a flashlight and shakes his head when he spots the cartons of eggs in the backseat floor board.
“What are the eggs for, boys?” Weaver asks. “That’s why we are up so early, we wanted some breakfast,” Chris spoke out.
Weaver looks at the punk rocker. Chris’s Mohawk stands six inches high and is colored read and blue. His black leather jacket sports stainless steel spikes on the shoulders.
“I like you boys. I don’t have a problem with you,” Weaver changes his tone from friendly to serious. “Please do yourselves a favor and convince your spiky headed friend here to shut the fuck up.” Aaron whispers loudly in Chris’s direction “, shut the fuck up!” “ Fuck you guys!” Chris whispers back in his own defense.
Chris smiles at Officer Weaver and the cop continues, “I’ll let you boys in on a little secret. I don’t care too much for these rich fuckers either. Hell, I don’t even give a shit if you boys throw eggs at their cars. At least it’s keepin’ you boys out of real trouble, drugs and what not. Just do me a favor and give it a rest for a few days.”
“Thank you, officer! We’ll give it a rest, we promise,” Dana proclaims. “Yeah thanks, sir,” Michael adds. Chris gives Weaver a large, devious smile. Officer Weaver shakes his head and continues “; if someone else pulls you over for this, don’t tell them I said that it was okay. I’ll deny every word. Good night, boys”
The young cop gets back in his patrol car, as do the other officers, and drives off. Chris gives Dana a quick slap to the back of the head. “Are you ready to go home, pussies?” Chris belts out. “Fuck you, Chris,” Dana snaps back. The young punks pile back into Dana’s car and drive off.
“That was a pretty nice cop, he didn’t yell at us or anything,” Dana notes. “Yeah, he was alright I guess,” Jeremy agrees. “Hey! Turn on some fucking music!” That is Chris’s way of saying please.
Dana reaches down and turns the radio on as Michael leans against the back seat window next to him to sleep.
Present Day:
A dim, fluorescent light beams through the small window in the steel door that locks Michael in his cell. Michael is sleeping soundly in his small bed. The lights in his cell turn on abruptly. Michael’s eyes shoot open as he hears an orderly’s voice call out, “breakfast in fifteen minutes.”
Michael eases out of bed and walks to the plastic mirror that is glued to the wall above his stainless steel sink. Michael washes his face and brushes his teeth. When he is finished, he rests his hands on the sides of the sink and stares blankly into the mirror.
‘There is a time in a young man’s life when he comes to a crossroads. There, at these crossroads, he must make a decision. Should I? Should I not? What will the consequences be? How many people will this one decision affect? One year ago today, I stumbled upon my crossroads. I asked myself those questions. I looked both ways and said “, what the hell.” My name is Michael White. I will be telling this story from here on out. After all, this is my fucking story. My story is one of love, loss, blood, and sex. So sit back, shut the hell up, enjoy, and don’t fucking interrupt me!”
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