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  • Gutter Punk: Young And Homeless

    Chapter 6

    By Punkerslut

    Devil Punk
    Image: From "Anarchy" Gallery from FreedomInYourMind

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

    FREAK: You know what I believe?

    SPIKE: That you're god?

    FREAK: I think that the police have sex with the dead bodies they recover.

    GUNNER: And what would lead you to believe something so heinous about our best in blue?

    FREAK: You see over there, in the park? I found sperm on the park benches.

    GUNNER: What? Shit, I'm not having sex with you any more.

    Rat nudges Gunner in the ribs a little hard, playfully.

    SPIKE: Pfft, me neither.

    Lily does the same to Spike.

    FREAK: I'll show you...

    Freak goes off into the park, and sits on one of the benches.

    KEVIN: How does the sperm situation look?

    FREAK: None here now, but it's warm. Have a seat. The fire's of hell burn tonight.

    Kevin picks up Freak and seats on the bench, placing her on his lap. They all sit on two benches, except Gunner who is still standing.

    RAT: Hey, Gunner... I gotta get going back to the Rage House. I'll talk to you later.

    GUNNER: Aaawww, you won't be spending the night with us at our luxurious squat? We have... foam mats, and.... milk carton seats?

    Rat hugs Gunner and kisses him.

    RAT: Good bye, Gunner.

    She smiles and walks off.

    GUNNER: You have a good one, miss daisy!

    She waves good bye, and disappears into the night.

    GUNNER: Ah, fucking alcohol! So much fucking alcohol in my system right now, hell yeah. (looking into the distance) What the fuck is that?

    A group of house punks come by, Amanda, John, and Igor. They are all clean and washed. Their clothes aren't grimey. Their typically wear: plaid pants or plaid shirts, suspenders, and shirts that say "Sex Pistols," or "Sid Vicious," or "Blink 182."

    AMANDA: So I took the motherfucker, and smashed his fucking face with the fucking bottle!!!

    JOHN: That's right, you sexy fuck magnet! And if you didn't, I'd beat you to a bloody pulp, and make Igor over here fuck you in the ass!

    AMANDA: And that's why I love you so much.

    GUNNER: (pointing to the group as they come within range) How about you all shut the fuck up before I put my boot through your skulls?

    IGOR: Aw, come on, man... Let's drink together.

    SPIKE: Why in the fucking hell would we want to drink with garbage like you?

    JOHN: We have alcohol.

    SPIKE: And my resentment.

    FREAK: Fuck housies! Fucking hope they burn in their SUVs!

    KEVIN: I like her idea.

    JOHN: Well, she sounds like a real bitch.

    GUNNER: You better shut the fuck up before I decide to totally fuck up your world.

    The group of housies stare at Gunner while he stares back at them pointing to them.

    GUNNER, VOICE OVER: Honestly, I wasn't really that close with Freak. But she was my family. And there's a certain bond you have with people when you sleep on the same floor with them, drink the same booze with them. If a tank threatens that, I'll take them on with my knuckles.

    AMANDA: Come on, let's not drink with these losers.

    IGOR: Yeah, losers.

    GUNNER: Hey, asshole... When I come into McDonald's tomorrow morning, I want a large fry and a cheese burger.

    JOHN: Fuck you!

    John "attempts" to charge Gunner, but Igor and Amanda hold him back. He's just trying to look like he wants to fight.

    JOHN: You're lucky my friends are here tonight.

    Gunner walks up to the group, and pushes Amanda hard off of John, and punches Igor in the stomach. Igor falls to the ground in pain. John just looks at Gunner, not looking like he's going to charge him. Gunner punches him on the face, breaking his nose and knocking him to the ground. He begins to kick him on the ground.

    AMANDA (crying): Hey, get off him! Please! Please get off him!

    Freak gets up and Kevin stands up. Igor comes from behind and punches Gunner in the back. Kevin runs over to him, pulls his shirt, and punches him in the neck. Igor leans over like he's sick, and Kevin knees him in the face. Freak runs over and tackles Amanda, punching and scratching her. As Freak punches the housey on the ground, she grits her teeth and salivates heavily. Lily stands up while Spike goes over. As Kevin kneed Igor in the face, he falls over. Spike then kicks him in the side several times. After enough gutter stomping (about 30 seconds of it), Gunner grabs their liquor (two bottles of wine and a bottle of Jagermeister), they head off. Freak's hands are covered in blood. They then head back to the squat, all of them together, in the night. Then one of them begins to sing a song...

    GUNNER: I lost the confidence, to write a song...

    GUNNER and KEVIN: So I found three simple chords and held them together with my wood voice.

    GUNNER, KEVIN, SPIKE: On an out of tune guitar, my father gave to me.

    GUNNER, KEVIN, SPIKE, FREAK, LILY: I made Elvis, turn in his grave. And Lez Paul kiss my dirty calloused fingers. I made an accident of a song, never made one fucking dollar. A demo tape, to played until it's broken. They remember it for what it was... That we gave 'em hell. That we gave 'em hell. That we gave 'em hell.... That we gave 'em hell. That we gave 'em hell. That we gave 'em hell.

    GUNNER and KEVIN: (rest of song, loud and screaming, "Crime" by Against Me!)

    The song begins to play as the camera focuses out of the group. As they walk through the city streets early in the morning, Gunner does a voice over.

    GUNNER, VOICE OVER: Yeah, we fought a lot. We were gutter punks. Nothing less was to be expected. I'm not proud of it. But when you live the way we do, when you suck concrete and eat dirt, you lose all tact for dealing with the world diplomatically. And then some fucker comes up to you, and thinks you should like them, because they watch MTV all day and they think they know what punk really is. Well fuck punk! And fuck every house punk while you're at it. I'm a gutter punk, but I don't watch MTV, I don't sit down to eat dinner with my family every night, and I'm not your goddamn friend. I like Crass and the Dead Kennedys. If you come up to me, thinking that I thought Sid Vicious or the Sex Pistols were some tough guys, or some motherfuckers who found some meaning in this shitty world of ours, then you're shopping for some facial bruises. People who are so concerned with their image like that deserve to get their asses kicked. In fact, I would pay $40 if I could have a one on one fight with Sid Vicious, when he young and strong. So I could show the world that the heroes of high school "rebels" will still cry when you kick them in the face and spit on them. So fuck it. Fuck punk and fuck your high school trends.

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