17 August 2010

Curious Case of a Punk in the Daytime

Jason's last thought as he considered throwing the kid over the railing was I can't believe he called me 'boy'...

The kid was scared, rightly so, because he knew his ass was about to meet the river the hard way.  Eyes wide like dinner plates,  cheap beer breath washing over Jason's face in a series of gulping drafts, little whimpers escaping his lips.  Jason stared back.  His fists had a death grip on the belt buckle and a balled up wad of the dirty wife-beater the punk was wearing.  There was a small tearing noise; the fabric was beginning to rip.  Jason tightened his hold.

"Hey, man, leave him alone" said one of the kid's friends, "He was just messin' around."  Jason pushed the kid harder into the rail and turned to look at the one who had spoken.  There were two other boys on the bridge, one brown-haired, the other black-haired, eyeing Jason like they saw a werewolf.  They were both dressed almost like the kid: tank top, baggy jeans and some kind of Converse-type knock-off sneakers.  All three of them had skinhead haircuts.  Jason marveled at how much he loathed chumps like them.

More knuckleheads from the same shop Jason though in a blaze of contempt, can't even be original in their fake plastic rebelhood.  He bared his teeth; the friends flinched and took a step back, nearly tripping over the bike laying in the roadway.  Jason growled.

"Step on the bike, and you're goin' over the rail with your buddy."  Their eyes widened, like deer in the headlights of Jason's glare.

"I've had enough of this bullshit,"  Jason spat and turned his gaze back to the kid, "because I'm pissed.  Yell shit at me once and I can ignore it.  But three times?  Hell, no."

Jason lifted his arms.  The kid was trying to stand flat, but his heels were coming off the ground.  He was shaking, hard.  Jason grinned, a wolf about to pounce.  A tired wolf.

"Plus, your asshole buddy here, he said 'Hey, give me that bike, boy!'.  You think that's funny?  Showing off for dipshit friends?"  Jason snarled, lifting the kid off the deck.  "DO I LOOK LIKE A BOY TO YOU?" he shouted and tilted the kid's head over the side of the bridge.  The kid started to cry, pleading for Jason to let him go. 

"Hey, m-m-an, d-d-on't do it, he was just kidding! We weren't gonna steal the bike!" wailed the black-haired kid, "C'mon let him go!"  The sound of the river below the bridge deck was unusually loud.  It reminded Jason that in some spots, the rocks weren't that far below the surface of the water.

Jason was about to heave the kid over the rail, tired of all the noise and disrespect.  Of all the indignities he had suffered in the last month, for some reason being called 'boy' by a liquored-up pre-pubescent who wasn't shaving yet, well, that was the last straw.  Almost as if there was nothing in his life he could do without someone heaping on some shit.

The kid was looking at him with wild eyes, whimpering, and there was a thin string of drool running down the side of his face.  Jason said "Tough shit" and made to finally dump the kid over the rail.  The kid, in turn, screamed loud, a piercing screech.  Something clicked in Jason's head, a little voice whispering Let him go, man, not worth it, not for some dumbass punk with a mouth bigger than his brain.

Out of the corner of his eye Jason saw the two friends rushing at him.  Just before the kid became airborne, Jason shifted backwards.  The kid fell forward, and Jason used the momentum to pivot and slingshot the punk dead-on into his buddies.  There was a meaty sound of bodies colliding, and all three of the punks collapsed in heap on the gritty concrete of the bridge.  The brown-haired one smacked his head into the deck, and screamed in pain.  Jason bit his tongue to stifle a laugh, then felt a wave of regret wash over his tired body.  he took a step towards the pile of bodies.  They all flinched as Jason bent down to stare at the kid, the one who had called him 'boy'.  He grimaced.

"Don't ever call me boy, again, got that?"  He pinned the kid to the deck with a cold stare.  The kid just nodded, twitching like bait.  "Good."

Jason stood, walked to his bike and got on.  He stifled a laugh as he realized he had not removed his bike helmet during the whole ugly incident.  Stupid kids probably think I'm crazy he thought, adjusting the chin strap, but maybe that means they will leave me alone.  He pushed off, low gearing it as he made his way up the hill to the trail head.  Behind him he heard the kids muttering curses, sounds of people standing up and brushing gravel off pants.  He didn't look back.


  1. oh don't we ALL wish we had the strength (physical and mental) to do this sometimes!!??

  2. love how you brought him back to humanity, but it was great how far you let him wander off into his rage.


  3. Jason had the killer instinct himself. But he was diverted just in time. Nice story of rage, bullying, and intimidation.


"Let your laws come undone
Don't suffer your crimes
Let the love in your heart take control..."

-'The Hair Song', by Black Mountain

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