December 3, 1980
Where would you like me to begin?
Later that night, dripping with tears and snot, I would be forced to tell mister Rodgers to go fuck himself. Earlier that day, a skeletal, tanning-bed blonde in a pink bikini named Darcy would begin a vicious inquisition of my plans for my soul. At a crucial point, when I was running for my life, a 2-foot tall stone statue of the Virgin Mary would play a small but vital role in my escape from the police.
You pick.
Start at the beginning? That's boring. Are you sure?
Okay. You know me already. The fat schizophrenic from the Fascist fat camp? No? Does anyone read anymore? I'm 15 years old in this part of the story. Not as fat. Not as many pimples. Still tragically lacking in any sense of hygiene. I was on 11 medications that made the dying, diseased cow of my childhood disappear.
I thought about him, but I didn't miss him.
I have real human friends in this story. And if I have to start at the beginning, that means we start with Kevin. He had a blue 1965 mustang that all the pretty girls swooned over. His sister Liza loved The Who and Cheap Trick. His parents would take mini-vacations and leave him and his sister at home. That meant three day parties where everyone would bring a case of beer.
Drink all night. Vomit. Wake up. Vomit. Drink all day.
Andrew was in charge of the music and it was always the Sex Pistols, the Clash, the Circle Jerks, and the Dead Kennedys. His one freak-show choice was Bob Dylan. He'd play that shit after everyone passed out. You'll meet Andrew later. You'll meet all of my friends later.
Kevin gave me a ride home from school every day. When I met him in the parking lot after school he seemed agitated, jumpy, like he was being chased, you know? That kind of energy.
"Where's Liz?"
"Hurry up, get in the car, get in the car, get in the car..."
I slid into the front seat and he got behind the wheel. I saw a fire extinguisher in his back seat and that intrigued me.
"I want to ask you about Liz again, but this fire extinguisher is pulling my focus."
"She, she got a ride home with her girlfriends, forget about her, she's all caught up in some fucking basketball player. I have something much more important. Pay attention. This is going to change your life..."
He pulled a box of cassettes out from under his seat and took out Tonic For the Troops by the Boomtown Rats. He started his car and put the tape in the player. Then he handed me the lyric card.
"Who is this? I don't know them."
"They do that song, I Don't Like Mondays."
"Oh yeah, nice, I like them. What are we listening to?"
He told me to shut the fuck up and listen to the greatest song ever produced by any band, past or present, until the end of all fucking recorded historical time.
We listened to I Never Loved Eva Braun.
It was a song about Hitler not loving his suicide wife. It wasn't anything more than a power-pop novelty song, but it seemed to inspire Kevin to new criminal heights.
Introducing again, the fire extinguisher.
"Isn't that the greatest fucking song you ever heard in your life?"
"Uh, yeah, okay..."
He punched me in the chest. "Last year you were into fucking Meatloaf and Jethro Tull! Don't tell me that song didn't just change your life!"
"I didn't say I didn't like it. You didn't have to punch me..."
"After hearing it, are you ready?"
"For what?"
"The extinguisher's full."
"Good. That's a safe thing."
"Not for everybody. The Catholic schools are having some dance of the fucking virgins or something. We're going downtown and we're gonna spray those motherfuckers in their fancy suits and dresses!"
"Now? Tonight?"
"What else are you gonna do?"
That was an excellent question. I didn't have a single thing to do.
No one could stop us. No one could check on us. This was 1980, remember? No cell phones, no security cameras. We thought we could do anything. And that is what you need to remember from this part of the story. We never would've done what we did, if we didn't think we were invincible...
