American Idiot

I was surprised, actually. The reception was very small. Actually very few people had come. And I was being smug about how none of Jimmy's 'new' friends had come. I guess I thought it would change the way things were. 

Me, Tunny, J's mom, Brad, a couple people from the Underground and some High school friends had come. But no one else. Around fifteen people from the Underground were there. A few 7-11 regulars showed up late. All dressed punk in black, at least the got the memo. I took a deep breath and held it. Staring out the windshield, wishing I could avoid today, but I knew I owed Jimmy this much, so I let all the air out in a big gust, reached over and popped the glove compartment and dug around until I found on of Jimmy's CD's. He had a thing for always leaving them in my car. And this one had scratches atop the images that I was guessing used to be black, spray painted silhouettes of Billie Joe, Mike and Tré, the members of Green Day. The bulky white font on the front of the disk read Shenanigans. And track number twelve was Ha Ha You're Dead. Just as Jimmy had wanted played. I reached into the backseat and grabbed the stereo. I climbed out and walked towards the small group surrounding the already dug out, little dirt plot. The cd player rattled against my leg as I walked, approaching. No one looked in my direction as I walked towards the booth with the large speaker and microphone for making speeches and announcements, clearly they were expecting a larger crowd. I was aware of the pastor who was going to do the opening prayer giving me a 'you shouldn't touch that stuff' look as I yanked out his microphone cable and tossed aside, hooking the cd player I instead. Because I knew damn well Jimmy would rather listen to upbeat music about his death rather then listen to a soppy speech about it while it is riddled with tissues, nose blowing and eye dabbing and apologies for all the tears.

I turned on the cd and pushed the forward arrow button until track twelve appeared. I pushed play and the grave yard became alive with the lyrics of the dead.

“ How do you get your sleep at night?
How did you get your noose so tight?
Like chewing on tinfoil, it's so much fun
Gonna be dead before your gone

Cause look how things have gotten
And I'll be happy so I won't pretend
And I'll be cheering that you're going down
And I'll be laughing, I'll be laughing

How many feelings can you steal?
Gotta be part of your appeal
I can see through you cause you're wearing thin
Like chewing on tinfoil once again

Cause look how things have gotten
And I'll be happy so I won't pretend
And I'll be cheering that you're going down
And I'll be laughing
Ha Ha you're dead
And I'm so happy
In loving memory
Of your demise

When your ship is going down
I'll go out and paint the town
Ha Ha you're dead
Ha Ha you're dead
Ha Ha you're dead

Ha Ha you're dead
And I'm so happy
In loving memory
Of your demise

When your ship is going down
I'll go out and paint the town
Ha Ha you're dead
Ha Ha you're dead
Ha Ha you're dead

Ha Ha you're dead
The joke is over
You were an asshole
And now you're gone
As your ship is going down
I'll stand by and watch you drown

Ha Ha you're dead
You're gonna be dead
Just remember what I said
Ha Ha you're dead
Ha Ha you're dead
Ha Ha you're dead”

I was mixed emotions after that. As dreadfully blunt as the song is, I was crying tears of joy. Jimmy was going to be ok wherever he went. He is alright. There is nothing left here but the ash. I looked around I was the only one laughing or smiling. Had the song of choice been frowned upon? Then Tunny took a step towards me, a huge smile spreading across his lips and he ran up to me and hugged me. He too knew Jimmy loved that song. Then a bunch of Punks from the Underground were laughing and smacking each other high fives. They all believed J was fine.

The pastor shot me a stern look, unplugged my cd player and plugged his mic back in with a high pitched squeal. I winced and stuck my tongue out at him, I had been planning to keep playing the song during the reception, but what ever. 

“Thank you all for attending the final day of Ji—” 

Tunny ran over to the pastor and whispered something in his ear. The pastor shot him a funny look then shrugged and didn't take his eyes off Tunny as he said “Saint Jimmy.” warily.

Everyone cheered. Even Jimmy's mother, who was close to tears.

“Let's begin.” He smiled. Gesturing for Tunny to come up in front of everyone. The only sound now was the low static sound of the idle mic and the soft squish of damp grass under his faded black chucks as he approached.

He took the mic, for once not smiling. He was very serious, not saddened yet, but I suspected that was coming. Even though Tunny had tried his very hardest to take over the underground and betray his friend, he still missed Jimmy a lot and had a few things to say.

“Jimmy.” he began calmly, meeting the eyes of everyone in the row of rusty folding chairs.
“Was more than one person. You see, he was Saint Jimmy, the Jesus of Suburbia. What's more is what he was to each and everyone of us. A friend, a enemy, a ally or a route to coke and alcohol. A son, a boyfriend. A person that if you knew him before his time was up, it was a great privilege and you should treasure it. Jimmy... Wasn't like everyone else at school, when we met.
“I noticed him straight off because of his holy, worn out Nirvana t-shirt on the first day if school in 3rd grade. Yeah,” Tunny laughed “3rd grade. He was a outcast, didn't have a lot of people hanging out around him. So I approached him, nervous of course because he was just so intimidating at the age of like, seven, eight? Yeah. So my first words to him are ‘Are you going to eat that cookie?’ Y'know?. Yeah so anyways, guess we hit it off after that. And I will come clean as to what I did to him three months back. Taking Mary-Jane from him, that just wasn't fair. I'm a selfish bastard that deserves to be taken out and shot. But... Also, I don't fully regret it. Mary-Jane is a amazing woman.” he winked at me “I remember the addiction with all the music he got me into, we'd stay up until three in the morning listening to music on a school night.” he grinned fondly at the memory. “But enough with the happy stuff, Jimmy did annoy me sometimes. Pretended he was the greatest shit ever dropped on earth, y'know, shit like that. I guess that's what drove me to betray him. But other than that, J was my best friend and will always be on my mind. To Jimmy, the Jesus of Suburbia.” he raised his beer can above his head in a toast.

I smiled and clapped and he hopped off stage.

Jimmy's mom went up next. Obviously she wasn't holding up well, I could tell cause she held the mic with shaky fingers and had to take a lot of deep, calming breaths before she could even speak.

“I guess a lot of kids die everyday. And it doesn't hurt as much as when it's your own. I really wish I'd spent more time with my little Jay Jay. He was already a adult at the age of ten. Didn't need much leading, because he was born to be a leader. He took the town by storm, he didn't do the most desirable things... But I guess he did what made him happy. And that's all that matters right? To my son, Jimmy.” she stood there and closed her eyes, basking in the silence. I noticed she didn't raise a glass of wine, beer or alcohol of any kind, Brad must have taken charge and decided she couldn't come to her sons funeral drunk.

Low murmurs went around the little group and a quiet round of peaceful applause when she finally shoved the mic back at the pastor and ditched the stage.

I went up next.

From beside the pastor on the front of the crowd. I could see every sympathetic face. They had all known Jimmy and known what he was about. As his mother said, he was born to be a leader. And he died as one.

I took a deep, shaky breath “I've known Jimmy for the last two years.” I murmured “And those years were some of the best of my life. Jimmy, like Tunny said, was a very special presence. To be near him was a special occasion in itself. He has done a lot of things for me. More then I can ever repay. He was also always more than I deserved. J was my—”

“You know what? No one cares! No one liked Jimmy, let alone loved him. And you all stand up for him like a bunch of servants trying to get a better job.” shouted someone from the crowd. I spotted him immediately. He was from high school, I have no idea how he ever got invited let alone heard of the death of Jimmy. He sneered Jimmy's name like it was a bad word.

I glared at him as he continued “Do you realize how many clean, drug free kids there would be in Suburbia if it weren't for that drugged prick? All these kids are doomed to being alcoholics for the rest of their lives. Is that what you want? A town ran by a bunch of drunks?” he rose his eyebrows.

He was playing on two sides of the fence. He was saying how horrible Jimmy was at his own funeral, and then he was rallying for a town of drug and alcohol addicts. I didn't really know how to reply to that.

“Speechless right? Admit it, Jimmy sucked.” he sneered.

“No. Jimmy was a wonderful person.”

“Riiiggghhhttt. Is that why he ran away from his problems and committed suicide? That's really setting the bar for a role-model.” he said sarcastically.

My eyes narrowed “You don't know anything about Jimmy.”

He rose his eyebrows in surprise “And you do? I do recall you being the one who cheated on the poor bastard.”

I winced “I didn't want to break his heart!”

“So what then? It saved him more that you didn't dump him, but was fucking his best friend while he is getting your name tattooed to his arm?” he asked quizzically.

I took a deep calming breath.

“See? Your pissed because it's true.” he crossed his arms across his chest, sensing victory, he beamed proudly at his points that were unbelievably true...

“I'm not denying them. I'm embracing my mistakes. That is a hell  of a lot more than you have ever done, remember last semester you fucked six girls, one after the other, and what? You think your some great thing?” I snarled.

He cut a menacing glare at me. “You keep me out of your shit.”

“Gladly. Get him out of here.” the fifteen punks from the Underground smiled, appeased and went and grabbed him and dragged him out the cemetery gates, throwing him in the street and spitting on him. Now that everything about my life was out in the open for everyone to see, the atmosphere was different.

All eyes on me, I ran off the stage and took off. Under a tree some hundred yards away to watch the mourning from a distance. I had known Jimmy well enough while he was alive. No need to revel in loss for him.

I could hear the pastor clearly, and all the following speeches. But apparently that wasn't the end of rude speeches. A few punks said nice things about Jimmy, but also saying some bitter things about him, if I didn't know better. I'd say nobody liked him.

I watched them set the black vase down in the hole they had had pre-dug, and began to shovel dirt over the remains of Jimmy, the Jesus of Suburbia.