Sex and Violence

No one was inside the store, other than two white guys pretending to be black, who wored there. They were going on about some rap album that had just come out. I couldn't help but to scoff as I walked by. I hated rap, more so than I hated posers. Nothing good came out of the two, ever.

I went right for the 'Indie/Punk' section of the store, and started rummaging through the CDs. They never had anything good, that I wanted. It was weeks that I'd come, hoping to find a Funeral Dress, or Subhumans CD, but they nevr carried any. I sadly had to deal with it; which wasn't so bad, because I at least had my other CD collections.

I picked up a The Exploited CD, and considered buying it. I didn't have hardly any money, especially from after what happened last night...

Agent Orange had come into town, and a few other bands tagged along, except they were a bit hardcore punk. It didn't matter though, because the moshing was still great. The beer was expensive though, and the jackasses wouldn't sell it to me, even though I was going to be 21 in a few weeks. That meant I had to ask some older guys to help me out, but they always wanted a few extra bucks in return to get themselves some.

I thought, 'fuck it', though. I wanted some fucking beer, because that only made the rowdy punk concerts even better!

Not only did I spend all my money on beer though; I spent it on weed, too. That was another thing that seemed to keep me going besides my music, sex, and alcohol; Drugs. I was probably spiralling downhill to most people, mainly society, but fuck them. I enjoyed my life style, and it had nothing wrong with it yet besides the hangovers and the asshole guys. Honestly, I loved my life, and I love being a punk.

Punk had some hard qualities, though. There was too many posers, who basically ruined it for us true punks, or we had the other kind of punks who made us look bad. Because of this, the posers in all, the music was getting shitty. There was still some good stuff, but the new punk was bad enough to make my ears bleed.

That's pretty much all the music was in the CD store now. It was the Modern Age Punk, and sadly, everyone was forgetting about the classics, and the original sound.

I thought this all while searching through the racks, and racks of albums, but quickly my mind was on something else entirely.

Before I could even turn around, I felt arms around me, holding me tight, and someone's mouth as at my ear.

"Hello, gorgeous."

I didn't have to turn around now; his raspy partial Scottish accent gave away who it was, right away.

"What the hell d'you want?"

He chucked quietly into my ear. "You."

I made a sound of disgust and tried to push him off of me. "Get off."

He let go after a few seconds, and I turned around to glare at him, or intimidate him in anyway. He was much more intimidating than me though. His messy blue hair made him look more rough than he had looked last night. The dark smudge on the very top of his bottom eye lid made him look more dark, too. Even the way he was dressed today made him look more intimidating.

Last night, this guy was a push-over.

I was waiting for my beer, when I glanced over to see this guy staring at me. He had liberty spikes, and an electric blue color to it. He was wearing torn, and patched pants, with some big Doc-Martins over the bottoms. His shirt was a band-T, very dirty, and he had a studded vest over the top. One of the first patches I noticed on his vest was a band I really like.

"Hey!" I called to him. "Minor Threat fuckin' rocks."

He smiled big, then came over. "Fuck yea they do! I don't give a shit if they're straight-edge!"

"That's fuckin' punk right there; being able to admit that shit."

He nodded and smiled at me. "Wanna beer?"

"Someone's supposed to be buying me some now."

"That guy?" He asked pointing at the bar.

The guy I had given my money to was being yelled at by the man working the bar. I could see he was getting kicked out now.

"Fuck." I said under my breath.

"So, can I buy you one?"

His some-what scottish accent was winning me over. "Sure, sexy. Get me whatever."

He smiled at me again, and walked over to the bar.

I couldn't stop smiling. There was something about this guy that almost seemed different, but I knew that he was just going to be a one night stand. That's how allof them ended up being. I could never find one guy that I actually like enough, let alone liked me enough.

Once he came back, and we exchanged names, we hit it off pretty well. We moshed together, beat the hell out of some poser chick together, and I even let him come home with me.

"Seriously, what are you doing here?" I asked.

"I wanted to fucking see you again. Is that weird or something?"

"Yea, it is."

"Why is it weird that I want to see you again? Is it too soon or something?"

"What do you mean 'is it too soon'?"

He laughed shortly. "Oh I get it, is was supposed to be a one night thing, right?"

I could see he was starting to feel bad. I almost felt bad, but I wasn't going to lie to the guy.

"Yea, I figured that was all it was going to be. Sorry, I didn't think you wanted anything more."

"Is it wrong of me to want you more than just that?"

"It's weird-" He interupted me.

"Why? You're a fuckin' punk rock goddess, and you make me laugh. You make me feel even more rebellious, and even more punk."

"Is it all because of what I said last night?"

He just stared at me, like he couldn't believe I was being so stubborn.

I really think that's the only reason he liked me so much, and I supposedly made him feel so punk. Last night, I told him something that I probably didn't even mean.

We were laying in my bed, and he looked over at me all serious-like, and asked me, "Do you think I'm punk?"

I was confused, honestly. I didn't get what he meant. He was a fucking punk... at least I thought?

"Yea, I think you're a punk. Why would you ask?"

"I mean, I don't act it, actually. I dress it, but I don't really listen to actual punk music. I listen to alternative-punk shit. I'm not very rebellious, and I hardly drink or get into trouble."

Really? The guy was starting to sound like an idiot.

"How could that make you not punk? Punk is about inviduality, dude. It doesn't always mean you have to listento a certain kind of music."

"I get called a poser all the time."

"Who's to say what's really punk, and what's not? That sounds like a fucking guide line to me, and guide lines are not fucking punk. Don't worry about them. They can fuck-off-and-die. I think you're punk..."

He looked over at me, and kissed me. I was expecting a long, messy one, because I figured this guy was like the rest, but he ended it quickly, then was on his back.

I couldn't help but think of how weird the night had turned, but now he's finding me in odd places, trying to convince me to be in a relationship with him or something? I was completely annoyed now.

"No, it was not because of what you said. I just really like you, okay? Am I seriously in the fucking wrong here?"

"You followed me here! It's fuckin' weird."

"I was at the store down the way, and I saw your car pull in, okay? I figured I should come say hi. I can see it was a fucking mistake though. I'll fucking go, and you'll never have to deal with me again."

He turned away quickly, and started walking through the store, heading for the door.

"I didn't want you to go." I admitted loudly.

I watched him stop, then he turned around, and stood in place. "Oh yea?"

I was getting loud now, and I didn't give a fuck who-else was in the store. "I'm just in disbelief, alright? I've never actually met a guy who wants more from me than a screw and some pot."

"Well, I like you, with or without pot. Sex, I could go without, until you wanted to."

It made me smile. I really think I was about to get into a relationship... for the first time.

"Okay, Aleck, prove it to me."

He suddenly had a huge smile on his face, and we were out of the store in seconds.