let it all collapse, the icon for the www.punkerslut.com website
Home Articles Critiques Books Video
About Graphics CopyLeft Links Music
  • Back to index of Gutter Punk: Young and Homeless
  • Gutter Punk: Young And Homeless

    Chapter 13

    By Punkerslut

    Equality and Peace
    Image: From "Anarchy" Gallery from FreedomInYourMind

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

    The camera shows Rat and Gunner stumbling out of the show drunk, and Kevin, Lily, Spike, Freak, Sweep, and Hey Kid following them (he unties his dog and carries the dog's leash with the dog)...

    HEY KID: Ahhhh, I got the munchies from all that alcohol... I'm gonna go grab some grub. Maybe get some food for Xander.

    SPIKE: All right, catch you later.

    GUNNER: Hey, I'll come with you, Hey Kid.

    HEY KID: Sure.

    KEVIN: Just make sure you make your way back to the squat later on.

    SPIKE: Or you might become lost... and drunk... in public.

    SWEEP: Aaawww, if you guys are gonna do that, can I come?

    GUNNER (sarcastic chuckling): No, little Jimmy. You gotta head home now and feed the pigeons.

    SWEEP: But that doesn't even make... --

    GUNNER: Don't argue with your old man.

    Kevin sees a bottle of spray paint on the ground, picks it up, shakes it, and writes on a wall (already riddled with graffiti) the words "They Lie, You Die!" and an Anarchy symbol.

    FREAK: I'm kind of hungry, too... can you try to bring me back something, Gunner?

    GUNNER: For you, little lass, the world.

    FREAK (getting closer to Gunner): I think you're sexy when you dumpster dive.

    KEVIN: Oh, my god! I'm witnessing the downfall of the western civilization! Woman convinces man to war against man because she wants to win the beauty contest.

    FREAK (laughing): Shut up!

    Freak gets into a boxing position and so does Kevin, and they pretend to box.

    KEVIN: Whoa, I never knew that inmates at a loony bin could fight.

    FREAK: That's right. I had to kill a prison guard with a plastic fork because he tried to rape me.

    GUNNER: I'm sure you're just reminiscing about the time that yuppy kid came up to you with a doll and you stabbed its eyes out with a knife.

    SPIKE (smiling wide): Oh, yeah! I remember that! Freak, that was the coolest thing you've ever done.

    FREAK (stopping her boxing pose, while Kevin pretends to be doing punch rolls on her stomach, ending up massaging her): Well, hey, some kid comes up to me wearing a Nike or Abercrombie shirt and they're lucky to walk away without bleeding... (laughing) Kevin, cut it out.

    GUNNER: I don't know if that's the coolest thing Freak ever did... One time I woke up and my fingernails were painted pink.

    FREAK: I didn't do that.

    GUNNER: Then, it must have been... (pointing to Spike, then Lily, then Kevin, then down)...

    LILY: You did that to yourself.

    GUNNER: Lies!

    LILY: No, you blacked out drunk, and you asked me for pink nail paint, and I gave you some.

    KEVIN: The more sensitive side of Gunner comes out when he blacks out on alcohol.

    SPIKE: Not only that, but with a consciousness for interior decorating!

    GUNNER: Oh, man, I really have been living a lie.

    HEY KID: Hey, Gunner, I'm leaving. Let's go.

    GUNNER: All right... Later, you punks. I'll see you at the squat at some undesignated time.

    FREAK: Don't forget to get me something! I need some food.

    GUNNER: Oi oi! Homeless kids never forget their family!

    The group departs, Gunner and Hey Kid heading out while Freak, Kevin, Spike, and Lily head back to the squat. There are still kids and gutter punks around the place where the show was, all heading back to their homes or congregating together. Slowly, Gunner and Hey Kid manage to make it out of the fuss of the punk show, and back into a relatively normal city.

    GUNNER: That was a pretty fucking cool show.

    HEY KID: I thought so, too.

    They pass a dumpster, Gunner opens it up, and jumps inside, while Hey Kid waits outside.

    HEY KID: This whole alleyway right here is my cafeteria. There's the Italian restaurant up there, the pizza place over there. You got all the bases covered.

    GUNNER: Oh, hell yeah... I love curb side pizza.

    HEY KID: You find anything in there.

    GUNNER: Nah, not yet -- oh, wait...

    Gunner pulls out two submarine sandwiches that are still wrapped.

    HEY KID: Nice pull!

    Gunner hands one to Hey Kid and puts the other in his trench coat pocket.

    GUNNER: I'll save this other one for Freak. And, look what I also found...

    Hey Kid leans over, as Gunner ducks into the dumpster again, pulls out, and puts the strap to a broken camera around Hey Kid's neck.

    GUNNER: Your very own camera. I doubt it works. But it's my gift to you, to show you how much I appreciate your friendship.

    HEY KID: What a fucking shitty gift.

    GUNNER: Yeah, well, I'm a homeless kid, so what do you want?

    Gunner jumps out of the dumpster as he two keep walking. Hey Kid marvels at the camera.

    HEY KID: I use to have a camera once. I took pictures of all my friends. I would spange and get cash to get them developed. I had a hundred pictures. Those people I slept next to, my family, my friends, the people I loved... but I lost them all. When I was arrested, they threw out a whole bunch of my stuff.

    GUNNER: The streets are rough like that. You can't keep a single fucking thing. Not for long anyway. So, the best thing you can do is to hold on to the people you love.

    HEY KID: That was the only way I could... I had pictures of some of my other dogs. My first dog, Ulysses. That dog was a hard fucking dog. He slept with me at night, kept me warm, and if you tried to break in, he would rip your throat out. He barked at and tried to bite half the people in the city... Strangely, he never tried anything like that with a single fucking squatter.

    GUNNER: What happened to him?

    HEY KID: Cops. They raided the squat. The dog was laying next to me, heard the commotion, and moved five feet away from me. I heard three gunshots and fucking huddled against the wall. The dog fell down. He was shot in the head by the cops.

    GUNNER: I wish every squatter in this city had a gun. That way we could fight the fucking pigs. I really am tired of running from them every time they think I'm up to something, which, usually I am, but that's besides the point. I never did anything I thought was wrong.

    The two pass by another dumpster.

    HEY KID: Here, hold this.

    Hey Kid hands the leash to Gunner, as Hey Kid jumps in the dumpster.

    HEY KID: I know what you mean. It's always going to be hard on us. We're homeless, and people don't like to see us. We make the city ugly. We might as well be the Jews in the Warsaw Ghetto. Our crime is poverty and misfortune of being born into the class we are -- but they take this as a reason to hate us, and then the cops find it as a reason to fuck with us.

    GUNNER: I hate people.

    HEY KID: I never stopped since I was born.

    GUNNER: You find anything in there?

    HEY KID: Just garbage.

    GUNNER: Nice! What kind of food?

    HEY KID: You sarcastic bastard.... ooohhhh, my god.

    GUNNER: What??

    Hey Kid lifts up a bottle of Jack Daniels.

    GUNNER: Holy fucking shit... Is it real?

    Hey Kid takes a swig.

    HEY KID: Hell yeah, it's real.

    GUNNER: Hand that to me and keep looking around in there.

    Hey Kid does as asked and Gunner takes a swig.

    HEY KID: I found another! But, it's half empty.

    GUNNER: Hand it over and keep digging, bro'!

    Hey Kid hands it over and then keeps searching.

    GUNNER: Anything?

    HEY KID: Nah.

    Hey Kid hops out.

    GUNNER: Well, you have a sub sandwich. I don't get hungry ever. Want to just get drunk?

    HEY KID: I 'unno...

    GUNNER: Come on, man... It's just whiskey. It's not like the dumpster gods put it there. Someone probably just threw it out because they were making a habit or something.

    HEY KID: We could keep searching for food, but the rest of these dumpsters probably have nothing good in them.

    GUNNER: Want to try by the bakery?

    HEY KID: Can't use that dumpster any more. They put bleach in their bread when they throw it out so we can't eat it.

    GUNNER: Fucking assholes! Shit like that pisses me the fuck off. They abandon buildings, but when we sleep in them we get arrested for trespassing. They throw out food, but when we eat their leftovers they arrest us for theft.

    Hey Kid puts his hand on the back of Gunner's neck and puts their foreheads together.

    HEY KID: Don't worry, brother... We're in this together, and with this amount of whiskey, we have enough fuel to get us to the promised land.

    GUNNER: For tonight, anyway. (smile)

    Hey Kid and Gunner walk while drinking whiskey, and then Gunner looks back.

    GUNNER: Holy shit!

    Pops rolls out of the corner of the dumpster's shadow.

    POPS: Hey, Gunner, Hey Kid.

    GUNNER: Pops, you gotta stop pulling this scare tactic shit. And where the hell you been anyway? I haven't seen you in days.

    POPS: Well, I've been working.

    GUNNER: You? Work? Who would hire you?

    POPS: I wash some mean dishes.

    GUNNER: Oh, fucking, enough with the stories. You're coming with us and getting trashed.

    The three find some back alley and drink together. "Johnny" by the Violent Femmes begins to play. Finally, Hey Kid says something.

    HEY KID: I'm gonna find some rooftop, to enjoy my drunkenness, and pass out while the stars watch me.

    GUNNER: I'll come with ya'. (quickly looks around, trying to think drunkenly) Uuhhhh....

    Gunner hands one of the half finished bottles of whiskey to Pops.

    GUNNER: Here, Pops, take this. I better see your ass around more often.

    POPS: Ah, thanks, youngsta'.

    Gunner and Hey Kid head off, finding some store, climbing the rooftop through a ladder in the back. The music of the Violent Femmes is still playing.

    The two lean against the ledge of the roof, drinking, side by side.

    GUNNER: It's been a long goddamn time, man.

    HEY KID: Since when?

    Gunner looks down to the tarred roof.

    GUNNER: Since I ever saw my parents.

    HEY KID: I don't have any memory of my family.

    GUNNER: Ah, that makes sense. Lonely poet.... what stirs your heart?

    GUNNER, VOICE OVER: Sometimes, when I'm drunk, I say out loud what I think.

    HEY KID: The stars, my friend. The stars.

    GUNNER: I can't even remember what my parents looked like. I don't care about them any more, really. I have no intention of going back. And the pain of leaving what you have become use to is gone. But every embittered night, indulged in hard liquor, my memory brings me back to a familiar place.

    Gunner takes a swig of the whiskey.

    HEY KID: I think about the dogs I've had. They've been outcast by a world that has no room for them. They're more like us, than they are like other humans.

    GUNNER: That makes sense.... have you ever walked home and felt that home feeling?

    HEY KID: What do you mean? Home?

    GUNNER: We lost our houses, brother. It doesn't mean we have no home... I remember once I left Pittsburgh, leaving behind good friends, good family, good alcohol, and a good squat that I was welcome at. I hitch hiked out to the middle of nowhere in fucking Illinois. Some trucker's diner. And I asked myself, "What am I doing out here? What the fuck am I doing out here?" I wanted to say it, but I was awaiting new experiences and new alcohol, but it didn't come. So I looked to the night sky, as dark as this one, except more stars -- and I started to cry, as I walked back to Pittsburgh with an outstretched thumb. I prayed that the winds carried me home fast. And all through my heart, there was that thought pounding, that I was going home. Home. Nothing else matters. Just gotta get home. Take me home.

    HEY KID: Are you home now?

    Gunner, staring at the stars for two seconds, turns to Hey Kid, looks for two seconds, and then turns back to the stars.

    GUNNER: I think so. Have you ever walked home and had that feeling?

    HEY KID: I haven't ever had a home.

    GUNNER: No?

    HEY KID: No. I'm just a ghost, drifting here to there to here.

    GUNNER: We have no real home physically. But have you ever felt at home in the heart?

    HEY KID: I don't think so. I just try to make the best of what I have and where I'm going.


    GUNNER: Is everywhere home for you?

    Hey Kid, looking down, smiles, and looks up to Gunner.

    HEY KID: Yeah. (smile)

    The camera pans towards the stars.

    GUNNER, VOICE OVER: Hey Kid was that type of kid. The anonymous face in the crowd whose thoughts were rich and deep. He's the kind of kid who has slept in water towers at night, writing poetry on the back of newspaper.

    join the punkerslut.com
    mailing list!

    copyleft notice and
    responsibility disclaimer