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  • Gutter Punk: Young And Homeless

    Chapter 5

    By Punkerslut

    Street Punk
    Image: From "Anarchy" Gallery from FreedomInYourMind

    Start Date: April 26, 2003
    Finish Date: January 27, 2004

    GUNNER: Where the fuck are we going?

    RAT: Don't worry, I know. You're too drunk to know.

    GUNNER: Punk in drublic!!!

    Rat holds Gunner as she takes him to the feeding. It's a long line of homeless men. About 1/4th of them are Gutter Punks and the rest are homebums. The homebums are mostly dressed in sweat pants and sweat shirts, most of them manged. They are all standing in a line for free food.

    GUNNER: All right! The feeding!

    RAT: Yes, handsome, we're at the feeding.

    TANK: Oi oi, you punks! Over here!

    Rat and Gunner head over to the middle of the line, where Tank, Lily and Spike, and Freak and Kevin are at.

    GUNNER: Don't mind if we come in here, do ya'? Hehe...

    FREAK: Give me a beer!

    Gunner reaches into his coat and hands her a small, plastic bottle of vodka.

    GUNNER: It's all I got.

    Freak chugs a little of it, shakes her head, and passes it on to the others.

    SPIKE: Hey, asshole... We fucking missed ya'.

    LILY: But now we're all here, like a family, at the feeding.

    TANK: Not me. I don't actually take the food here. In fact, I try to avoid this place. I am only hanging out with my brothers and sisters here.

    KEVIN: Christ... I'm drunk as a fucking punk.

    TANK: Yeah, I let him have a sip of my whiskey and now he's all outta order.

    KEVIN: Fuck you, man...

    TANK: Ha, I'm just playing with you, bro'....

    SPIKE: I hope they have chicken tonight. I'm sick of their rice and random vegetable shit.

    RAT: You'll be lucky to get their meat loaf.

    LILY: I think it's chicken tonight... I mean, they had rice and beans or broccoli shit for several nights in a row.

    KEVIN: I'm Freegan, so whatever they have, they have. I'll eat it if they're giving it away.

    GUNNER: You're a very noble motherfucker.

    TANK: What the fuck are you, Kevin?

    KEVIN: I'm a Freegan. If I dumpster dive meat or dairy products, or if I'm given them, I'll eat them. But I won't buy them, because that would support them.

    TANK: Ah, the Peace Punk Animal Rights thing... That's cool, I respect that. (Tank takes another shwill of his whiskey)

    SPIKE: Gunner, put your hands in the air!

    Gunner and Spike charge each other and their arms lock; after a little bit of struggle, they tip over. (They're playing.)

    TANK: Okay, assholes, cut the shit right now.

    Tank pulls them apart.

    TANK: If they think you're serious, the people feeding will leave.

    GUNNER: Aaaawwww... Or probably get arrested.

    The camera slowly drifts into the air showing, the whole line of people getting hot food.

    GUNNER, VOICE OVER: There are always good people in the world. And if there weren't, we probably wouldn't be able to eat. Or get drunk. The reasons why we are out here vary. Some choose to be out here. They like the thrill and adventure. Some are throw aways, who nobody wanted. Either fired from their job, thrown out by their land lord, or treated like shit by their parents. I remember arguing with a yuppy. I told them I ran away a year and a half ago. He told me, "Oh, so you're not really homeless..." How the fuck was I supposed to respond to that, without kicking her in the head? Stupid bitch. I couldn't have endured a meaningless life with abusive parents. For some of these kids, it just grew too lonely in Suburbia, with upper working class moms and dads, never enough drugs. For others, it's a long, long life battle, fighting homelessness. One month they're on the streets of San Francisco, next month they have an apartment in Queens. A year later and they're kicking tin cans around Houston, looking for a squat with a crowbar, and the next week, they finally hitched a ride to New Orleans. Trying to get a job is hard, because the first thing they see is a homeless gutter punk who wants to cause trouble. And they're right. If I was a boss, no fucking way would I hire a gutter punk, and being the gutter punk I am, no fucking way would I choose to have a boss.

    The camera focuses on the gang (Kevin, Lily, Spike, Freak, and Gunner) with Tank and Rat walking down the street, Tank still drinking, the rest eating pasta from paper plates.

    SPIKE: Tank, don't you think you should eat something?

    TANK: Why? It's only food.

    Spike holds the plate up to Tank's face as he misses with the whiskey bottle, spilling some alcohol on the ground. Kevin and Gunner point to the spilled alcohol and...

    KEVIN and GUNNER: Alcohol abuse!!

    TANK: Ah, well, mates... It's close to twelve. I'm gonna go walk around town aimlessly, maybe spange a little.

    RAT: Good luck. You smell like alcohol so much, I wouldn't give you my last dime if I was a millionaire yuppy.

    TANK: If you were a millionaire yuppy passing me by when I was drunk, you wouldn't have a choice. (smile)

    GUNNER: Take care, Tank. Get 'em in the groin once for me.

    Gunner and Tank shake hands.

    RAT: See you, Tank.

    Rat and Tank hug.

    TANK: Be safe, Rat.

    KEVIN: Later, bro.

    Tank and Kevin shake hands.

    FREAK: I'll see you in hell on Tuesday.

    Freak and Tank collide together with their torsos.

    While Lily is still holding on to Spike, they keep walking. Spike holds up his hand, to sort of signify a good bye without waving, yelling out, "Oi oi!" Tank heads off into the distance, back into the depths of a town that doesn't want him any more and never wanted him. The group keeps moving on.

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