Well here there, you willies Enjoyer.
Sit and rest a spell, and let's hear a tale, cool?
You will forgive an old punk for a bit of reminiscing about the early teen years. You always remember your first lay. Hopefully, your first encounter with the Almighty and Gawd-blessed Vagina ended better than mine did.
Now to put you into the proper frame of mind of a young, innocent transplant from Maine who'd just moved to the high desert megalopolis of Fuckno, Californication, there is a tune to follow these words. It kinda fits the mentality of such a soft, skinny newbie who found himself suddenly inserted into the big, wide wet world out West.
Get your Saturday thing going on and let's begin, shall we? Remember, you are experiencing the "pre-punk" time of your faithful guide.
This chapter describes how I met Trinity, and because of her, how I became a jaded and rotten punk. To be fair, my transformation was not completely due to her and her actions. But it was a sort of seed, a beginning, a start down a road that I'd end up abandoning years later, in trouble, and barely making it out alive. You will see, at a later date. Redemption. (I kinda been telling this here tale for a while, ya know.)
I met Trinity while biking into Roosevelt High, down on Cedar Street, when I had decided to chain up my ten speed on the eastern side of this huge school, instead of the western side. Somehow, East has always brought out the best for me. Each of the many high schools in Fuckno had around two thousand students attending, and somehow, I met Her, there, then.
She was walking in, as I was chaining my first bitch up to the bike rack. I smiled at her even though I was shy. She was very pretty. She smiled back, and then she stopped.
"How far away did you come from?" She asked.
"About three thousand miles," I said. I thought that she was talking about where I had lived before this, but she meant today, on my bike.
She had bleached out hair, because she was Hispanish, and her hair was actually quite dark, down below, I would later find. Her longs legs glowed with a real tan from the summer just ending, and they were shapely. She wore a flowered dress, in muted colors, unlike many of the girls who had begun to wear black clothes and heavy eye-liner.
Trinity's green eyes smiled, and she snickered. "I mean, where do you live?"
I looked at my bike. "Oh, sorry, ma'am. I live up on North Chestnut."
"Ma'am? Do I look that old?" She sounded like she was going to laugh out loud.
I looked back up from my already-locked lock and smiled back at her. "Sorry. I'm just being polite."
She came closer. "You have an accent. So, you have come here from far away, three thousand miles. From Outer space?" She smiled. "And you live way up on North Chestnut, but why did you choose to come down here?"
Here is where I made my first horndog move of all time.
"I wouldn't have met you here and now, if I hadn't come three thousand miles."
Trinity laughed out loud, and walked away.
But she turned back, and looked at me.
Then she walked on again.
I think it was that look she gave me that emboldened me from there on in to pursue her.
It was some sort of... a thing.... some thing... something that made my dick quite hard.
It was hard to walk up to the front of the class when the math teacher picked on me to come do some sort of equation on the chalk board later that day. You see, I'd been lost in Trinity Land all day, thinking about what was up underneath the short hem of her soft, fluttery summer dress.
Quite hard indeed.
I had no idea what in thee hell the teacher was asking, and when I dropped my book that I'd been using to hide my boner, everyone stared. Then those bastards laughed and pointed.
Teacher told me to get my book and sit back down. That is how I got the nickname "Wicked Willie." Embarassing, ya think? Don't even tell me that this has never happened to you, (but interesting if you are a lady with a curiously large clitoris). It was one of the reasons I transferred to McClane High later on; this awkward nickname, but not the only one. Not even for getting beat up a few times for looking "Caucasoid." Not nearly even the scariest reason I got the fuck out of there, honey.
But Trinity did not know about my new nickname. She was a Sophomore, and I was a Freshman at Roosevelt High, and she somehow took a liking to me, from those early morning chats by my bike.
Of course I chained my bike up there each day from then on, and more and more frequently, she would walk by while I was there, and she would talk to me.
She liked my accent. She found me to be amusing. Like a plaything, I would find out later. Much to my regret.
But the next thing you know, we began to date.
I was making crappy money at the biker bar in the early morning each day, but at least it was cash money, enough to show a pretty young thing a good time: pizza, movie, and makeout session.
Little did I know that she was scoping me out to fund her drug abuse in the near future. Bryan would help me figure that shit out.
At the time, I was simply happy. Amazingly happy. For one of the few times, in Fuckno, Californication.
At that point, I thought that it was the best time of my life. Californication had palm trees, the weather was almost always warm, dry, and sunny. There was so much to do and see, in paradise. I had my ten speed, which I'd earned money for by cleaning a fuckhole of a biker bar each day before school, but my ten speed was my first bitch. And Trinity was my first lady.
Hey, no harsh. I call women "ladies." I call vehicular machinery "bitches," because those are the ones who are high maintenance. Truly, when you work on a vehicle, it can be a bitch. You can end up with bleeding knuckles.
You must never, ever end up with bleeding knuckles when dealing with a lady. I'll hunt you down, bitch.
I really liked this girl, Trinity, and she invited me to a house party when her parents were away. Things seemed to be excellent for this willies virgin back in Californication. Why, I would pedal a hundred miles in a weekend, breathing in the scents of the fruit orchards above Clovis, and heading out to the big lake above and beyond.
I traveled each and every curvy street of lovely Clovis as it grew, and got to know them all. I got to experience quite a bit of the life in the lower parts of the megalopolis of Fuckno, which was a great place to leave. Sometimes, I'd have to pedal away at great speed to outrun those who wanted to steal my deep blue-painted Raleigh from me in the streets below Blackstone Avenue, where we had lived in section eight housing when we'd first arrived in Fuckno.
Again, another chapter.
There were the mountains to the east, from where the water flowed through cement canals that we tried to jump in motor vehicles at high speed many times in later years, and always failed, (like the time we tried it in a Volkswagon Bug while trying to evade the Popo, and found that these little German cars floated.
There is the Western Coast of Californication, and many beautiful cities to visit there, like the time we punks went to L.A. for Halloween, and picked up some Goth kids along the desert road who turned out to be runaways, and the popo were after them, but we punks got into some clubs and drank beers and met Mork From Ork and the lady who sang "Hey Mickey."
Again, another chapter.
But Fuckno was always a palm-treed armpit of stale booze and farming aggies who smelled like shit.
Positive thing: when you sweat in the desert air, it cools you well.
Negative thing: there is so much dust, you will end up covered in it while biking, and you are always thirsty. Then you have to wash off cakes of dust and blow brown mud out of your nose.
But I truly dug Trinity. Until...
...Bryan met Trinity, through me. Bryan tested waters that I had not even begun to consider.
Bryan, well, he.... But that is a continuation for tomorrow, Sunday.
Here's a send off tune for today, my friend. This is a taste of what occurs tomorrow, if you have the cojones.
I think that you do.
Indeed, there are things that we all have done which we might feel good about at the moment, and then later, we regret.
But then there are other things.
Things we actually do quite right, in that moment.
These are the ones that matter most.
No need for a Delorian Time Machine, baby.
You did it right, no matter how much it hurts at the time.
LINKS
Welcome to my world. Planet Oddity. Cool pics.
Mind your ears.
Gifs.
Rooster lays eggs, for a change.
Play piano with your balls. SFW. Too bad.
I missed this. I could have figured it out. Yeah, right.
But I want to get these sort of finds. At Goodwill, where I buy clothes for the bodies.
Nice find. Some web-fiction. Who writes these sorts of things?
Survive the next disaster.
Not so much a disaster, excellent artwork, get this, painted on people? Cool.
But don't paint before a disaster. Dumbass.
NSFW Now don't be bad.
Tomorrow, join me in the next chapter.
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
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