Green Days: American Idiot, the Full Story
St. Jimmy
St. Jimmy.
Weeks Later.
Morning.
Jesus had taken to his new life surprisingly well. Vinny has become one of his best friends. Everyone in the shelter is nice. Maybe things are looking up for him.
He has already gotten used to his schedule. Wake up around seven. Make your cot. Meet near the main stage for breakfast. Do your planned job for the day. Get lunch. Help loading the band of the nights equipment. Serve drinks. Break up fights. Eat dinner in between. Help close club. Sleep. Repeat.
For some reason, he rarely saw Vinny during the day. He woke up earlier then him and went to bed later. Whatever it was, Jesus planned on finding out.
Jesus woke up at around three in the morning. He pulled back his curtain divider to find Vinny’s bed vacant. How could he be up already? Jesus stretched and got out of bed pulling on a shirt and slipping on his shoes. He saw light peeking out from the office room.
That room was pretty much off limits. Is Vinny in there? The closer Jesus got to the door he started to hear voices. He heard Vinny’s for sure and a few others he couldn’t figure out.
He slowly turned the doorknob, his heart beating out of his chest. He nudged it open and peered in the room. A thick layer of hazy smoke filled the air. Assorted beer bottles scattered across the floor. White lines on one of the desks. An ashtray filled with cigarette buts. There was at least five or six guys in the room. They all seemed pretty gitty.
One of the men exhaled and some of the smoke hit Jesus in the face. He coughed and tried to stifle it but he was to late, they found him out.
“Jesus Christ, Jimmy?” asked Vinny, who was the closest to the door.
“Um, yeah.”
“What are you doing here?”
Vinny had an angry look on his face and grabbed Jesus’ collar and dragged him into the room. He threw him into the wall and cocked back a fist, ready to punch him. One of the other men placed an arm on his shoulder.
“Vinny, wait.”
“What? Jimmy saw too much.”
“Jimmy? That’s your name?”
“Yes, sir.”
Jesus gulped. This was one situation he really didn’t want to get into. He’d been into the drug scene back in Rodeo and knew what trouble you could get in for walking in on a deal. These guys looked professional and dead serious. He could die here.
The man’s voice seemed sincere, almost as if he gave a shit about what happened to Jesus. But Jesus knew better. He was probably trying to lull him into some false sense of security.
“You seem like a smart kid, huh? How long you’ve been here?”
“A few weeks.”
“You wanna be here the rest of your life?”
“N…No, sir.”
What was this guy coming at?
“Well, you’ll need money to get out of here, kid.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“How about you do me a few favors.”
Favors? Jesus knew that could mean only one thing. He was either doing some drug runs or pushing. He preferred neither but knew that this guy was serious but also felt he was sincere about the money. Money can make a person do crazy things.
“What do you need?”
“I need a fresh face on the scene. Vinny here’s been working it for a few years. I need something new, you up for it?”
“Y…Yeah.”
“That’s my boy.”
He patted him on the back and pulled Jesus into a half hug. What has he gotten himself into?
***
May 7
Jesus walked into the dark alleyway with an air of arrogance, a take no shit approach to life. He really has changed. It was as if the second he made that deal he lost a bit of himself back there. He’s no longer the lost and lonely Jesus of Suburbia. He’s different. He’s like a patron saint of the denial. Yeah, with an angel face and suicidal thoughts always in the back of his mind.
“Hey, Jimmy.”
It was one of his regulars. Yeah, who would have thought that the same kid taking a DARE course the year before in high school would be selling someone a death wish in the dark alleyway of the big city? Certainly not the one holding the bag of dope in the left pocket of his jacket.
“Sup. What you need?”
“Dimebag.”
“Fifteen bucks.”
“Actually, I got a better plan.”
The man snapped his fingers and these two big guys came out of the shadows. One with a pair of brass knuckles and another brandishing a baseball bat.
Oh no, Jesus was in very deep shit.
All he felt was pain. Throbbing, bone-crunching pain. The kind that you fear to ever even imagine feeling. He closed his eyes and brought his body as close as he could to avoid anymore broken bones. He never prayed in his life, but he sure as hell prayed now. He didn’t pray for him to feel no pain. He just prayed for them to stop. Anything to stop that pain. Apparently his prayers were answered because a minute later he blacked out.
Weeks Later.
Morning.
Jesus had taken to his new life surprisingly well. Vinny has become one of his best friends. Everyone in the shelter is nice. Maybe things are looking up for him.
He has already gotten used to his schedule. Wake up around seven. Make your cot. Meet near the main stage for breakfast. Do your planned job for the day. Get lunch. Help loading the band of the nights equipment. Serve drinks. Break up fights. Eat dinner in between. Help close club. Sleep. Repeat.
For some reason, he rarely saw Vinny during the day. He woke up earlier then him and went to bed later. Whatever it was, Jesus planned on finding out.
Jesus woke up at around three in the morning. He pulled back his curtain divider to find Vinny’s bed vacant. How could he be up already? Jesus stretched and got out of bed pulling on a shirt and slipping on his shoes. He saw light peeking out from the office room.
That room was pretty much off limits. Is Vinny in there? The closer Jesus got to the door he started to hear voices. He heard Vinny’s for sure and a few others he couldn’t figure out.
He slowly turned the doorknob, his heart beating out of his chest. He nudged it open and peered in the room. A thick layer of hazy smoke filled the air. Assorted beer bottles scattered across the floor. White lines on one of the desks. An ashtray filled with cigarette buts. There was at least five or six guys in the room. They all seemed pretty gitty.
One of the men exhaled and some of the smoke hit Jesus in the face. He coughed and tried to stifle it but he was to late, they found him out.
“Jesus Christ, Jimmy?” asked Vinny, who was the closest to the door.
“Um, yeah.”
“What are you doing here?”
Vinny had an angry look on his face and grabbed Jesus’ collar and dragged him into the room. He threw him into the wall and cocked back a fist, ready to punch him. One of the other men placed an arm on his shoulder.
“Vinny, wait.”
“What? Jimmy saw too much.”
“Jimmy? That’s your name?”
“Yes, sir.”
Jesus gulped. This was one situation he really didn’t want to get into. He’d been into the drug scene back in Rodeo and knew what trouble you could get in for walking in on a deal. These guys looked professional and dead serious. He could die here.
The man’s voice seemed sincere, almost as if he gave a shit about what happened to Jesus. But Jesus knew better. He was probably trying to lull him into some false sense of security.
“You seem like a smart kid, huh? How long you’ve been here?”
“A few weeks.”
“You wanna be here the rest of your life?”
“N…No, sir.”
What was this guy coming at?
“Well, you’ll need money to get out of here, kid.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“How about you do me a few favors.”
Favors? Jesus knew that could mean only one thing. He was either doing some drug runs or pushing. He preferred neither but knew that this guy was serious but also felt he was sincere about the money. Money can make a person do crazy things.
“What do you need?”
“I need a fresh face on the scene. Vinny here’s been working it for a few years. I need something new, you up for it?”
“Y…Yeah.”
“That’s my boy.”
He patted him on the back and pulled Jesus into a half hug. What has he gotten himself into?
***
May 7
Jesus walked into the dark alleyway with an air of arrogance, a take no shit approach to life. He really has changed. It was as if the second he made that deal he lost a bit of himself back there. He’s no longer the lost and lonely Jesus of Suburbia. He’s different. He’s like a patron saint of the denial. Yeah, with an angel face and suicidal thoughts always in the back of his mind.
“Hey, Jimmy.”
It was one of his regulars. Yeah, who would have thought that the same kid taking a DARE course the year before in high school would be selling someone a death wish in the dark alleyway of the big city? Certainly not the one holding the bag of dope in the left pocket of his jacket.
“Sup. What you need?”
“Dimebag.”
“Fifteen bucks.”
“Actually, I got a better plan.”
The man snapped his fingers and these two big guys came out of the shadows. One with a pair of brass knuckles and another brandishing a baseball bat.
Oh no, Jesus was in very deep shit.
All he felt was pain. Throbbing, bone-crunching pain. The kind that you fear to ever even imagine feeling. He closed his eyes and brought his body as close as he could to avoid anymore broken bones. He never prayed in his life, but he sure as hell prayed now. He didn’t pray for him to feel no pain. He just prayed for them to stop. Anything to stop that pain. Apparently his prayers were answered because a minute later he blacked out.