Well hey there, you willies Enjoyer. You have read the Saturday column (yesterday) and now you are here on The Lord's Day to read the end of this pre-tale. Thank you for your patience. These tales take a lot out of someone who is prying memories from his addled his head about Ye Olde Punk Era. Just after the Crustacean Period.
Now here's a tune to get yourself all "shitiated." And, hey, thanks for partaking of this stuff.
TRINITY END
The air in Trinity's kitchen suddenly grew quite hot, and, oddly enough, quite chilly. Bryan shrugged off Lupe and the other girl who were both hugging all over him, and took his big hands out of his pockets.
He stared me in the eye and whispered, "You gotta be fucking kidding me. Tell me you kidding me."
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I felt a chill. I whispered back, "Dude. I am not doing any drugs."
Bryan stood back and put his fist up to his lips. He pressed his index finger against them. "Shhh."
Then he strode to the table and snorted another line from the pink pile. Again, more laughter and hollas. He wiped his nose, make a loud sort of "snuck-snuck" noise with his nose, and came back to me.
The two young Messicans who had been in front of us were nowhere to be found. Bryan clapped my back and smiled, turning his head to me. "You gonna cause us a world of fuck, Willy Boy, unless you do a line or two. Hell, that might not even help now."
He turned back to the crowd and smirked, and said out loud, above the throbbing beat of the music from the other room, "Mi Hermano es muy bashful!"
Everyone laughed out loud, nodding. But I stood fast. I would never do drugs. And that was a good thing. Only, this was now a bad place to be.
Trinity came back to me, on the other side, and took me away. Bryan stayed, and was soon covered again by Lupe and her friend.
In the back part of the house, Trinity led me to her bedroom. "You stay here for a few minutes. Those guys will forget about this in a little while. But stay here for a bit. Please?"
I nodded. "Trinity, I didn't mean to cause you any harm."
She looked back at me from the door, then she came and hugged me. "It's not me I am worried about."
She closed the door and left.
In a moment, the front door slammed shut quite loudly, and then there was some shouting. The music got turned off. It was very quiet. Then someone began to speak in rapid tones in Hispanish, and I felt like I was going to throw up.
I went to her bedroom window, and found it to be opened a crack. I pushed it all the way open, and lifted the screen up, pushing it out. My adrenaline was in full gear, like I had actually done a line from the pink pile.
I was going to get the fuck out and now.
I climbed out, then put the screen back in its tread. And I crouched.
Through the window, I could hear Trinity screaming, "NO! Don't go through my house!"
Doors were kicked open, and lights were flicked on in each room.
I heard, "Where are you piquito NARC fucker? I'm coming after you, ESSAY!"
I had no desire to stick around and write an essay for those angry young Messicans, so I decided to head to my bike. People were coming out of the front door, so I stopped, behind the shrubs, and had to circle around to the other side of her home behind all the greenery, to get to my bike.
On the other side, lights in the home next door turned on, and dogs began to bark at me.
I found my bike, but there was no way in hell I was going to ride off from the front of her house, with all those folks drugged out, upset, and not fully understanding what was going on.
See a gringo ride off on a bike from this mess, and they would point me out.
I went further into her back yard, away, to the rear adobe hip-wall. I lifted my bike over it to the other side and then clambered over, to join it. Just after I did, the rear lights that shined in Trinity's back yard came on. I shrugged low for a moment, as folks came out of the sliding glass doors and looked around in the hedges by the house walls. I crawled and dragged my bike across the rear yard of her neighbor's home, hoping that I didn't stumble into a dog chained out there.
There was more shouting from inside Trinity's house, and I worried for Bryan.
But at the moment, I didn't feel like going back and "esplaining." It was time to get the fuck out.
I crept along, low down, dragging my ten speed, and its pedals were trenching lines through the lawn, making it harder and harder to tow. But with my adrenaline, I had amazing, panicky strength. I was sweating and felt like I was going to barf.
The breeze way connecting the garage to this home was a bit too close for comfort for me to try to sneak through, because of the wrought-iron gate that closed off the back yard I was in.
What if it was squeaky, or worse: locked?
But there was another gate on the other side of the garage, that led to the garbage cans. I went for it.
The lights came on in the house I was sneaking past.
And then, an amazing thing happened. Trinity's rear lights went out.
Thank goodness.
I reached the side gate and found that it was locked. So I grabbed my bike and threw it over. It landed with a loud metallic crash, and someone opened the door that led to the breeze way on the other side of the garage.
A flashlight shone around, and someone said in a raspy, loud voice, "I don't care for your kind around here. I have a gun. It's be best if you left right now. I'm calling the cops. I don't want to have to shoot you."
I did not respond, but I was thankful that this old guy hadn't come out guns ablazing.
I quietly crept up and over the locked gate, and jumped down. While I was carrying my bike off through the side alley between his garage and the one of the house next dor, all of the lights in the alley came on.
I heard, "There he is!" from Trinity's back yard, and that was all I fucking needed.
My bike would save me. I hopped on and rode to the street. As I was pedaling away at the fastest speed I'd ever made, I heard car doors slam shut and engines rumble awake.
Holy Fuck.
++++++++++++++++++++
BRYAN
Bryan watched Trinity lead me away down the darkened hallway, he would later tell me. He turned to Lupe and smiled. "You got a boyfriend, Lupe?"
She smiled back up at him and kissed his cheek. "He ain't here, Jefe."
That was exactly what Bryan had been hoping for all along that evening, but at this moment, it was for a different reason.
He bent and kissed her cheek, and whispered into her ear, "Wanna take a walk?"
She shook her head and giggled demurely. "It would look bad."
He nodded approvingly, and then whispered back, "Meet me out back. I'll go first, then you come in a minute."
She giggled again, and then nodded. He left her and went to the bathroom, which faced the side of the house, away from our bikes.
And there, he slipped out of the window. Smart dude. He later told me that when he was skulking off, he saw me slip out of Trinity's window, and then, seeing that he didn't have to try to somehow rescue me, he ran off without his bike.
Yeah right.
He probably just ran off like a coward, and forgot about me.
Like I did to him.
++++++++++++++++++
The low riders rumbled awake, and their headlights lit up the whole avenue on the other side. All sorts of music pierced the quiet neighborhood at once, and then, just as quickly, were silenced.
Posse.
It was a good thing that I had traveled the many side streets of Fuckno on my ten speed that summer before school, because I knew how to navigate them. But not as well as folks who had lived there all of their lives. Especially some angry, worried, drugged out Messicans in their low-riders.
My pulse was up, my breath was quick and short, and I had to focus.
How in thee hell would I get out of there with my bike?
Trinity's house was located in the middle of a side street, so these guys had to drive to the next intersection and then come over to where I was escaping, to find me.
They went in both directions, up and down her side street, to circle around and stop me on both ends.
Ambush.
They were coming for the skinny white boy NARC they had seen carrying a ten speed through the alley way of the rear neighbor's home, when the lights had lit me up and revealed my get away.
I remembered at little alley way I'd explored when I was scoping out Trinity's home address, before she'd even taken a liking to me.
Don't look at me that way. This was not stalking. This was exploratory research by a horny young man, no ill will intended. Which, by the way, is what any stalker would say.
This little alley way led to another side street, and from there, another street went north and south.
I pumped my pedals though this alley way, and saw headlights pass by the opening of the back end when I neared the other end.
Now they would scour the connecting streets. They might even come up the alley I had just entered.
++++++++++++++++++
ON HIDING
Screamo for Trinity, that Bitch.
Never stop and try to hide when you are fleeing, unless you have defensive weaponry. If you are being chased by a psycho wearing a hockey mask who carries a chainsaw or machete, do not trip over a tree root, nor hide behind a tree in your white panties.
Everyone knows this.
It might occur to you to ditch your bike and try to act all casual on the sidewalk, but you must not do this.
In all cases, Distance is your friend. Distance yourself from a messy situation, and Get The Fuck Out.
+++++++++++++++++
There was another alley, and this one led to a main thoroughfare. At this time of night, there would be a lot of traffic, and that might offer solace to the panicked one. The possibility of witnesses might stave off an angry assault. Would it be a good idea to travel such a route?
NO.
Terrible things happen to folks while others watch, unable to act because of a simple thing, which is this:
When encountering a freaky situation, we social creatures look to others for hints on how to respond. During the time it takes for someone to finally act the hero, someone may perish.
If you ever find yourself in need of help, do not simply scream, "Help!"
Instead, point at one person, single them out like this, "You, in the red jacket! Come help me!" or, "You, up there in the second floor window, call 911!"
This makes them personally responsible. They will not turn away, hoping that someone else has called 911. And then everyone will follow suit.
True that, baby.
But there, I decided to avoid the main streets, and I ducked into another side alley.
While those crooked Messicans scoured the nearby streets way back there, thinning out and becoming mired in their own addled, drug-fueled confusion, the sirens awoke.
The frightened old white hick had indeed called the cops on me, back at his house behind Trinity's.
God Bless gun-toting scared old hicks, at least that time.
I made it home later eventually, through myriad side streets, and discovered a new dilemna, Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.
I would transfer to another school soon after.
This song is for Trinity. Dangerous, inconsiderate, unthinking Bitch.
Yeah, I learned a lot.
When something looks too good to be true, well, you better get the fuck out.
It was too good, and it was quite ugly.
Something in me changed.
You will see, next weekend, in the next pre-tale chapter of the ZID Series: TDC WEAW : How To Become A Fucking Punk. I will tell you about the last time I was with Trinity, when she offered her dark secrets to me, and I lost my virginity.
Speaking of bitches, Bryan had left his bike behind, you see, the one he first truly owned, (I'd helped him buy it) not a pig bike crafted from stolen parts.
Never forget your first real bitch that you own. Never leave her. The Popo had his fingerprints.
And, most importantly, never, ever bail on your bro.
Like I had.
I am The Bastard in this tale. I had bailed on him first, no matter what he did when I was doing so.
That stuck with me. I was the first bastard in our friendship.
Happy Sunday! Go grab some sunshine, baby.
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
OK, a tune about "De-Evolution."
From DEVO.
Get it?
I knew you would.
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