American Idiot

All the Underground punks were there, in the normal attire, twenty-one were standing in a line. Holding different guns, all looked quite dangerous, but I caught gist of what they were doing. There were over eighty plus Underground punks here, including Tunny and myself. We nodded and joined the bunch, we began our march west, some of them drove go-karts, blaring the song 'Homecoming' by Green Day from the radio. We're going to make our rounds, marching past every monumental location in Jimmy's life. Playing the song that summed it up best.

“My heart is beating from me, I am standing all alone. Please call me only if you are coming home.

Waste, another year flies by. Waste a night or two. You taught me how to live, in the streets of shame. 

Where you lost your dreams in the rain.

There's no sign of hope

The stems and seed of the last of the dope. There's a glow of light, the Saint Jimmy is the speak in the night. Bearing gifts and trust. A fixture in the city of lust.

“What the hell's your name?”
What's your pleasure and what's your pain? Do you dream too much? Do you think what you need is a crutch?

In the crowd of pain, St. Jimmy comes without any shame. He says “We're fucked up”
But we're not the same. And mom and dad are the ones you can blame

Jimmy died today

He blew his brains out into the bay
In the state of mind, in my own private suicide.”

Our march a steady, uneven beat as we walked, passing the seven eleven, the last place Tunny saw Jimmy alive, trying to pick a fight with him. 

It was late afternoon, the little convenience store glowed with the life that was no longer present for Jimmy. I do believe, in some ways, Jimmy did change this town for the better. In his political rants, his demands to take charge- take power and responsibility for your own mistakes. Because in life, you make a lot of mistakes. It's all trial and error. Jimmy determined a lot of teens to not take shit from anybody, stand up for yourself. Be someone you're proud of. Proud to be.
In a lot of ways, Jimmy was a role model. Both negative and positive. Which if that doesn't encourage the fact that no one is perfect, I don't know what does.

“Does anyone care, if nobody cares? And nobody cares and nobody cares does anyone care is nobody cares?

Jesus filling out paperwork now, at the facility on East 12th St. He's not listening to a word now, he's in his own world and he's daydreaming.

He'd rather be doing something else now, like cigarettes and coffee with the underbelly. His life on the line with anxiety now.

And She's had enough
And He's had plenty

Somebody get me out of here
Anybody get me out of here
Somebody get me out of here, 
Get me the fuck right out of here

So far away, I don't want to stay. Get me outta here right now. I just want to be free, is there a possibility? Get me out of here right now. This lifelike dream ain't for me.”

Past Jimmy's house. All the lights were out, his mother sat on the front porch with Brad watching the parade of rebels march by. In celebratory of the death of Saint Jimmy I guess is how some people seen it. A lot of people saw Jimmy as a threat to society. He was a plague that everyone wanted to hide in the town. Just about everyone in this town knew who the Jesus of Suburbia was, he was the one who saved troubled, depressed teens and recruited them. Making them feel as though they meant something to someone. Eventually they would just stop returning home, and just disappear from the household all together. I guess it's a unfortunate ending, for most people who have to watch from the outside. But to actually be apart of that, it's beyond amazing.

“I fell asleep watching Spike TV after 10 cups of coffee and you're still not here. Dreaming of a song but something went wrong, but I can't tell anyone 'cuz you're not here. 

Left me here alone. When I should have stayed home. After 10 cups of coffee, I'm thinking, where'd you go?

Nobody likes you, everyone left you. They're all out without you, havin' fun
Everyone left you, nobody likes you. They're all out without you, havin' fun. 
Where'd you go?

Finally we marched to the outskirts of town, the darkness fleeing over us. In the open, you could see a few stars— the ones that weren't crowded by the smoke from the refinery a few miles away. 

Home, we're coming home again.

*Tunny's Point of View*

Well, hell. Jimmy is dead. Those words are so hard to believe. And the last words I said to J I take for granted. The words “I hate you.” ring out and bounce around in my skull. I try to grip the fact maybe we were never really friends. To avoid the pain, but I'd just be fucking with my head.

One time me and J, before we learned about the Underground and he went into his dark little world of substance abuse, his dad was alive and he lived in a happy little household. Different house now. We'd sit in Jimmy's living room playing video games. Drinking pop and trash talking each other when we'd play racing games or sports games. We would go to his house everyday after school and do that. His parents would come home from work after six every night as well, all smiles, I'd stay for dinner almost every night as well. It got so repetitive and enjoyable in Jimmy's home that I was jealous of his life. He had perfect grades, perfect parents, perfect house. God I'd have given anything to have his life. Then his dad died, and J started flailing. He sank after that. His mom didn't make enough money at her job, so they sold their house and moved into that scrawny piece of shit I was looking at now as we marched past. 

I lived with just my dad, my mom left when I was three. I lived in a shitty house as well while he had the perfect house. Then when his dad died and he downgraded to his little house. And suddenly I wasn't jealous anymore,  I just pitied him. 

We became closer after that. He was ten and he started to spend more time at my house. His mom took up drinking and she did drugs. The week following the funeral of his dad, she did so many drugs she almost killed herself. 

Jimmy cried for a week.

After that his eyes, which were a startling shade of green, dimmed and died out like mashing a glowing cigarette into a ash tray. He just... Died. In the panic that he'd lose both his parents, he un-ticked himself from his mom. Put up some barriers between them when she was released from the hospital, he figured if he wasn't close to her, when she did eventually succeed in killing herself, it wouldn't hurt nearly as bad. And over the span of ten years, they grew apart entirely. She never hugged him again and he never hugged her.  She never said she loved him and he did the same. They glared at each other when they were forced into a room together. It only got worse when she married Brad. Jimmy hated Brad, I could see it in his eyes though he never voiced his opinion out of love of his mothers happiness. And if that isn't the most selfless act in existence, I don't know what is.

It was a total downward spiral one day, we were fourteen, walking home from school together, we took a different route back, the long way. It went over the abandoned overpass outside of town. And it was there we found the Underground. Jimmy worked his way up through the ranks over the years. And eventually became Saint Jimmy

“I got a rock and roll band
I got a rock and roll life
I got a rock and roll girlfriend
And another ex-wife
I got a rock and roll house
I got a rock and roll car

I play the shit out of the drums,
And I can play the guitar
I got a kid in New York
I got a kid in the Bay
I haven't drank or smoked nothin' in over 22 days.
So get off my case.”

After standing there for fifteen minutes staring up at the blurry sky, we were heading back into town. I glanced at Tunny. Who seemed to be deep in thought. The guy rarely thought twice about anything, maybe Jimmy's death had made him a little more cautious? I kept my eyes down on the nearly black soil under my chucks. The dirt dwindled down after a bit into a long stretch of cracked black asphalt. That would take us into. Town, take us home.

The city lights of Suburbia lit up the dark sides of the street. Which were a mystery at night. A few lamps along the way were flickering or plain out burned out because someone like Tunny and Jimmy, if not them themselves, had thrown rocks at the bulbs until they broke.

The sun had set, but the western horizon still glowed green, violet, blue and orange with past light. 

Maybe it's better for everyone. That Jimmy moved on, not for anyone mentally, but physically. There is a lot to fix in this town. There's more damage than anyone would like to think there is. This town has never really been any concept of 'safe' in fact the cops here all too chicken shit to take the drug cartels and drug dealers and do something with them. They never make the effort to clean it up. 

Well I guess Jay wouldn't have wanted it that way. Though as much as he loved the life of slums, he didn't like watching society fail. And that's what's happening. Every damn day the glow of the ember dies out slowly until this town drops off the map and becomes a tourist attraction for “What could have been...” 

I will miss Jimmy. Not only had he been my boyfriend. But my best friend. I regret my decisions but now I've already promised Tunny my commitment to marriage. Though it's not in my best interest to marry the guy that also influenced Jimmy's suicide. But I suppose Jimmy would want us to move on. Not happily though, he was really good at holding a grudge. But deep down I bet he'd want what was best for his two best friends.

“Here they come marching down the street, like a desperation murmur of a heartbeat. Coming back from the edge or town underneath their feet. The time has come and it's going nowhere. 

Nobody ever said that life was fair now. Go-carts and guns are the treasures they will bear, in the summer heat. The world is spinning around and around out of control again.

From the 7-11 to the fear of breaking down. So send my love a letterbomb and come visit me in hell. We're the ones going home. We're coming home again.

I started, fucking running as soon as my feet touch ground. We're back in the barrio but to you and me, that's Jingle town. 

Home

We're coming home again. Home, we're coming home again. Home, we're coming home again. Home, we're coming home again.

Nobody likes you-everyone left you-they're all out without you.

Having fun”

We arrived back in town, and the punks with the guns pulled triggers and shot into the sky in a 21-gun salute to our fallen. Saint Jimmy.

The Jesus of Suburbia.

The end.