Trolley Crashing

Trolley Crashing was already there to some extent. There was us Trolley Boys - Trolley Pushers if you want be all politically correct seeing as we had Butch. Can't quite remember her real name, something that didn't suit so we didn't call her by her real name. Other than me and Butch, there was about 4 other guys on the night we started Trolley Crashing. Basically, every Thursday everyone in town went late night shopping. I shouldn't say everyone, theres always some people who stay home. Invalids. People with horrible acid burns to the face. The chronicly ill. Fat chicks. The socially unacceptable, you know the like. So the people who are socially acceptable, they mingle. The walk, they talk, they hook up, they fight. I'm not sure a lot of shopping actually gets done. But the Trolley Pushers are on hand just in case someone should leave a stray Trolley lying around. All six of us. For most of the night...about six till eight...we used to just sit around talking. Then for the last hour we run around like mad grabbing all the shopping trolleys,which isn't any mean feat. The people who do shop on Thursdays, they like to make us work for our seven bucks fifty an hour. Hell, I found a trolley up a tree once. Tell, me how dose a trolley get up a tree? And I don't mean a pithy little bush, I mean, about three meters up into the branches of a fucking tree. I left it there and decided if the boss asked I'd say it was modern art, that it expressed how with an empty trolley a consumer was all up in the air. The idea of modern art is hilarious when your stoned, let me tell you. In less than 2 minutes you suddenly realize you could be rich and famous, if you'd just make something unrecognizable and then give it meaning. Feel passionately enough about something, and everyone agrees with you. Even just to look like it - tell me sex isn't better if the other person is faking an orgasm. Theres not enough passion in anyones lives, they all want to live vicariously through the fascinating sculptor, the abstract painter, the religious leader.
I was discussing this with butch and she laughed at me in her manly voice. "It was a trolley in a tree you fucker, move on."
I didn't want to.
Now, after the hour long frantic trolley hunt we tend to all go down behind the shop, and sit in the open storm water drain. The only time when we don't do this is when it's raining. When it's not raining the concrete bottom is dry and no one bothers us. No one even knows we're there. Or if they do, they don't care
It was the Thursday after the trolley in the tree incident that it started. We got bored of talking and talking about people that didn't matter. There aren't any lights near the drain, so it's as dark as pitch. None of us are more aware that were going to die than we are at that moment. So someone grabs a Trolley. At first I think it's butch, but it's some burly guy, Thomas I think. He looks like an escaped convict on steroids. Anyway, he yells at this skinny kid who just started a few days ago to go get another trolley.
So the kid dose.
None of us give a shit - people always do stupid shit on Thursday nights. We're barely interested until the kid comes back and Thomas tells us to get our of the drain. Thomas has had a rough day and when a guy like that has a rough day, you do what he tells you to. "Skinny Bitch" he yells, "Get in the drain and bring your trolley."
Skinny Bitch gets in the drain and brings his trolley.
"Pick your rider" Says Thomas. We're all watching now. This is more than the normal stupid shit that goes on on Thursdays. "Hurry up fucker, who's going in your trolley?"
The Skinny bitch points to me.