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jack_babalonIt's summer time and Jimmy & I have front row seats to a minature youth riot. Sitting in The Point with a pitcher of shit on tap between us, we're watching a three dozen man fist fight go down live, right outside the window. Gutter Punks vs Nazi Skins: Round three. The Nazi's are bigger, gym muscles and beer bravado, but the Gutter Punks outnumber them 3-1. Home field advantage. They actually look like a swarm of monkeys that have attacked a war party of bald gorillas. The biggest one, whom I've dubbed as Robo-Hitler for no other reason than I find the name amusing, is bashing some mohican in the face, while some junkie kid rides his back like a bucking stallion punching him in the temple over and over again to no effect. A preteen runaway with pink dreads, joins the fray, jumping on Robo-Hitlers punching arm, but has little stopping power on the momentum of the pummeling he's dishing out. The tide is turning badly for the punks. No surprise there, truth be known, I didn't think a mob of malnourished teens with funny hair would last this long against the dreaded Aryan menace. Some skater kids go down in a rain of boot checks, a few of the gutter punks come crashing through The Point, which has now become a treage of some form. One of the wounded has pumped the juke box to play THE ANGRY SAMOANS Lights Out over and over again. Jimmy is shaking, his leg tapping so fast it rattles the pitcher & our glasses. It's more than just the usual blood lust bubbling up, these kids look up to him and he's just sitting on the sidelines like a schmuck.
"I'm going out there!" he tells me looking around suspiciously, in case enemey agents were lurking around to eavesdrop.
"The hell you are! You got a court hearing first thing tomorrow ..." I try to remind him, ever the voice of reason. Shit, being the voice of reason is the reason i'm dragged into these things.
"Fuck a bunch of lawyers..." He snaps watching the situation outside go from bad to worse. I know that this fight has a little more than five minutes before the law,( or what passes for such in Terminus ), shows up and starts making arrests. 5-0 picks up my boy now and there ain't nothing that 5 grand lawyer of his can pull out of his ass to save him. Of course, if the Nazi's cake walk this fight, word'll go out that the Terminus scene has piss for blood and every jack booted hick south of the Mason-Dixon will be goose stepping across the shows & clubs within a month!
Luckily these kids getting their asses handed to them are just the first line of defense. They're job is to hold out long enough for the cavalary to arrive. Y'see the moment these Good old Oi shit kickers arrived in their pick up trucks, seig heiling and shit talking, every payphone within Little Five was hit. Dirty fingers dial emergency numbers into pagers & cellphones. The Compound has been called, the alliance has been notified. The Compound was PUNK Central here in Terminus. It was once an old junkyard right off the old freight line that ran through East side, now it served as a gated community of old wharehouses that was sanctuary to the culturally marginalized. Bikers and punks crashed there alike. Addicts and dealers laid low and licked their wounds there. It was at times a refugee camp, at other times a neo-pagan festival. Word is that some bounty hunters went in to collect on a warrant and were held at bay at gun point until the police arrived. Terse negiotations ensued, with the result being that the cops told the bounty hunters to leave. I never got that story confirmed on any official level, but it was now part of the folklore of the city.
Already from inside the Point we can hear the bass rattle of several jacked up cars come pulling up through the parking lot behind Felini's. Irish Mike and his crew of B-Boy thug-punks are the first to arrive. Kids with names like Capone & Germ pile out of a jacked ride. They all have their 'hoodies' up lending them the appearance of some strange cult, limping stylishly in procession around the Nazis, who now knowing somethings wrong are forming their ranks into a defensive circle. Next up comes some of the older guys in the scene, cats with inks older than Jimmy & I put together. Guys who've seen combat in 'nam believe it or not. They bear nicotine colored fangs and their skin has been thickened into a leathery tan done up in mud splattered camos and bearing bats & smileys. Next to arrive is a small battalion of white gangsters, wigga's with attitude. These kids are most dangerous. Armed, drugged and illiterate they represent the future face of this country on so many levels it will keep me up at night in the years to come. They all come from nowhere, coming right around the Square, out of the parking lot for the Vortex, out from under the shaded outdoor tables of Felini's Pizzaeria. The Good ol' Oi's have just been let in on the joke. Y'see this scene may be full of back biting drama queens and bunk selling mall punks clawing at each others throats, but when it comes right down to it, everyone loves to hate a nazi, because they offer the most PC of any ass kicking one can deliver. So debts were temporarily forgiven, grudges momentarily buried and a new common ground was found on the battle field.
There is no hyperbole. No declaration of purpose. Just a feel good ass beating as the nazis go down under a fist barrage from Terminus' other finest!
"Y'see man, tolja Mikey would take care of it!" I tell him, motioning for a second pitcher of the bartenders latest urianylsis.
"I know, but...." Jimmy's looking at me with those big puppy eyes he usually saves for the pussy. Suddenly he's a little boy who wants to go on one more ride at the carnival before going home. I cock my ears past the umpteenth chorus of poke-poke-poke your eyes out/Lights OUT!. I hear no sirens.
"Go on" I tell him "You got four minutes to do your thing. Then you tear ass for the apartment once you hear sirens, y'got me?"
He nods his head eager.
"You get arrested, you explain it to Winter, got it?"
Winter's his old lady, and truth be known i'd rather face that mob outside one handed than explain to her how it is I let Jimmy get arrested for the third time in a month. But it's too late. Jimmy is already out there dropping fives & tens on Robo-Hitler who is trying to make a quick escape for the truck. I signal the waitress over and she obliges me with a pen. I pull out a handful of napkins and begin taking notes.
"I'm going out there!" he tells me looking around suspiciously, in case enemey agents were lurking around to eavesdrop.
"The hell you are! You got a court hearing first thing tomorrow ..." I try to remind him, ever the voice of reason. Shit, being the voice of reason is the reason i'm dragged into these things.
"Fuck a bunch of lawyers..." He snaps watching the situation outside go from bad to worse. I know that this fight has a little more than five minutes before the law,( or what passes for such in Terminus ), shows up and starts making arrests. 5-0 picks up my boy now and there ain't nothing that 5 grand lawyer of his can pull out of his ass to save him. Of course, if the Nazi's cake walk this fight, word'll go out that the Terminus scene has piss for blood and every jack booted hick south of the Mason-Dixon will be goose stepping across the shows & clubs within a month!
Luckily these kids getting their asses handed to them are just the first line of defense. They're job is to hold out long enough for the cavalary to arrive. Y'see the moment these Good old Oi shit kickers arrived in their pick up trucks, seig heiling and shit talking, every payphone within Little Five was hit. Dirty fingers dial emergency numbers into pagers & cellphones. The Compound has been called, the alliance has been notified. The Compound was PUNK Central here in Terminus. It was once an old junkyard right off the old freight line that ran through East side, now it served as a gated community of old wharehouses that was sanctuary to the culturally marginalized. Bikers and punks crashed there alike. Addicts and dealers laid low and licked their wounds there. It was at times a refugee camp, at other times a neo-pagan festival. Word is that some bounty hunters went in to collect on a warrant and were held at bay at gun point until the police arrived. Terse negiotations ensued, with the result being that the cops told the bounty hunters to leave. I never got that story confirmed on any official level, but it was now part of the folklore of the city.
Already from inside the Point we can hear the bass rattle of several jacked up cars come pulling up through the parking lot behind Felini's. Irish Mike and his crew of B-Boy thug-punks are the first to arrive. Kids with names like Capone & Germ pile out of a jacked ride. They all have their 'hoodies' up lending them the appearance of some strange cult, limping stylishly in procession around the Nazis, who now knowing somethings wrong are forming their ranks into a defensive circle. Next up comes some of the older guys in the scene, cats with inks older than Jimmy & I put together. Guys who've seen combat in 'nam believe it or not. They bear nicotine colored fangs and their skin has been thickened into a leathery tan done up in mud splattered camos and bearing bats & smileys. Next to arrive is a small battalion of white gangsters, wigga's with attitude. These kids are most dangerous. Armed, drugged and illiterate they represent the future face of this country on so many levels it will keep me up at night in the years to come. They all come from nowhere, coming right around the Square, out of the parking lot for the Vortex, out from under the shaded outdoor tables of Felini's Pizzaeria. The Good ol' Oi's have just been let in on the joke. Y'see this scene may be full of back biting drama queens and bunk selling mall punks clawing at each others throats, but when it comes right down to it, everyone loves to hate a nazi, because they offer the most PC of any ass kicking one can deliver. So debts were temporarily forgiven, grudges momentarily buried and a new common ground was found on the battle field.
There is no hyperbole. No declaration of purpose. Just a feel good ass beating as the nazis go down under a fist barrage from Terminus' other finest!
"Y'see man, tolja Mikey would take care of it!" I tell him, motioning for a second pitcher of the bartenders latest urianylsis.
"I know, but...." Jimmy's looking at me with those big puppy eyes he usually saves for the pussy. Suddenly he's a little boy who wants to go on one more ride at the carnival before going home. I cock my ears past the umpteenth chorus of poke-poke-poke your eyes out/Lights OUT!. I hear no sirens.
"Go on" I tell him "You got four minutes to do your thing. Then you tear ass for the apartment once you hear sirens, y'got me?"
He nods his head eager.
"You get arrested, you explain it to Winter, got it?"
Winter's his old lady, and truth be known i'd rather face that mob outside one handed than explain to her how it is I let Jimmy get arrested for the third time in a month. But it's too late. Jimmy is already out there dropping fives & tens on Robo-Hitler who is trying to make a quick escape for the truck. I signal the waitress over and she obliges me with a pen. I pull out a handful of napkins and begin taking notes.
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no subject
on 2005-08-22 08:56 pm (UTC)i wonder if he was there
probably