Johnny Was

Johnny was a badass. He took his own life at the Sunday dinner table, with his sister laughing, his mother screaming and his father drowning his corn in the gravy, just like every other fucking Sunday.

Johnny went to school in dirty clothes and broken shoes, because he wanted to. He used to get beat up a lot, but by the 7th grade he was used to it. He’d laugh during the beatings, encouraging the bullies for more but establishing a reputation as a crazy person. That was just what he was looking for, both.

Johnny wrote music in his basement apartment while his little sister argued upstairs about her curfew. The little slut. He wrote songs about his sister the slut, his mother the villain, his father the wreckless sadist. He wrote his songs and set them to bass music. He wanted to be Sid Vicious.

“I got a sister, she’s such a slut. She doesn’t know much. She’s in a rut. I got a sister, she’s such a slut. Kelly’s a slut, Kelly’s a slut, Kelly’s a slut, Kelly’s a slut.”

Later his songs became more personal.

“I get terrors, in the demon night. I see horrors, wanna lose my sight. I get terrors, in the demon night. Fuck the terrors, fuck the terrors, fuck the terrors, fuck the terrors.”

Johnny started a band in the twelfth grade with a couple of guys from his Social Studies class. He didn’t know them, didn’t know anyone except for the people who’d kick his ass, but they had long hair and dressed poorly. If he didn’t have his own Malcolm McClaren, Johnny figured, he could do his own organizing.

Johnny taught himself to play the guitar and drums so he could teach Joe and Penny how to play. He bought the instruments himself with the money he saved from working at the pizza shop. Penny would be the drummer, Joe would play guitar. Johnny lured them to his basement bedroom with promises of beer and a guarantee they’d always get laid as long as they were in a band.

They played and played but never got very good. But they were loud. Sometimes, girls from the neighborhood would stop by the house to listen to the music. Johnny got laid by this girl from around the corner. She had green eyes. Afterwards, in bed, still panting, he told her to fuck off. He figured it was the right thing to do, even though he wanted to see her again. She kicked his ass, naked, and got dressed and left. Nothing had changed for Johnny, except now he was getting laid. Things were improving.

“I got a chick, she blew my mind. I had a chick, she blew my time. I got a chick, she blew my mind. Stupid chicks, stupid chicks, stupid chicks, stupid chicks.”

After graduation Penny quit the band to go to college. Joe started playing speed metal, so Johnny fired him. Johnny bought a synthesizer from the money he earned at the warehouse. He recorded the bass and drum parts and played guitar over them, and sang. He taped his songs on his boombox and brought them around to local clubs. Nobody wanted to hear his shit; they all said it was horrible and, besides, where’s the band? It’s just a bad recording, Johnny told them, he didn’t have good recording equipment. But they still wouldn’t let him play, because he didn’t have a band.

Johnny stole $500 from his father’s wallet on a Saturday morning after his father’s payday. He bought a cheap 4-track recording deck and recorded a demo tape of his songs that morning. He had eight of them. He had started hanging out at the clubs so they’d know his face. He brought girls home from the clubs and fucked them in his basement bedroom, before telling them to fuck off, getting beaten up or at least slapped, holding his breath through their sometimes tears, and falling asleep until 2 the next day. Things were working out for Johnny.

Johnny’s father thought it was Kelly who stole his money, and he beat the shit out of her. Johnny wrapped up his recording session in time to find his sister upstairs hysterical crying, with bruises on her arms and legs. He went to confront his father, and his father promptly broke his nose, sent him downstairs to think about it for a while, and then kept Johnny’s next four paychecks, more than making up for the stolen money.

Johnny couldn’t go to the clubs without any money, and he couldn’t steal any more because his father had smartened up. This was a serious problem, and Johnny didn’t see any way out of it.

“Fuck em all I got a gun. Fuck em all they better run. Fuck em all I got a gun. It’s them or me, it’s them or me.”

He had broken into Penny’s house for the gun. He knew that Penny’s father had guns. He had to buy the bullets at Walmart, but that wasn’t a problem – Kelly had enough in her dresser drawer for the bullets, and he only needed a little box.

Johnny’s mother made a great big spread again on Sunday afternoon. Sunday was the big dinner day. Johnny loaded his new stolen gun and pushed it into his pants. Fuckers will pay, he recited to his bedroom mirror.

He had thought about killing each one. He could do it fast, before anyone had the chance to get away. But when he got to the table and sat down, he figured they had a better chance than him at doing anything in this life, which was no place for a bad punk rocker with no friends.

And that was the end of Johnny. He was a real badass while he lasted.

- posted by seanmh @ 10:13 AM