Page 54 of More Than Scars
Fuck you and your fake ass authority
Fuck you for trying to control me
Fuck you for thinking you owned me
Fuck you for constantly mocking me
Fuck you for accidentally wrecking me
Fuck you for laughing at my pain
Fuck you for believing their lies
Fuck you, someday you’ll all fail too
Fuck you
Fuck you
Fuck you
You’re in Imminent Danger now!
Imminent Danger now!
Epilogue
Bowie
“What’s going on?” I asked as we sort of drifted along at the edges of a surge of people, since fighting it would take way too much effort.
“The annual shred-off is going to start soon,” Pressley explained, as we maneuvered around vendors, slowly making our way back to our bus. “I hear they’re doing it a little different this year. Instead of two guys up there at a time, they’re sending four up, since the turnout hasbeen overwhelming.”
“Maybe next year you should throw your name in,” Tony offered.
“There’s no list.” A guy I thought I recognized explained. “You just show up backstage with your guitar, and you’re good to go.”
He had a guitar slung low on his back and a little girl in his arms with something green and sticky-looking staining her lips. Dwarfing him was a massive guy with a mohawk and a meaner resting bitch-face than Shadows, which was truly terrifying, until I looked down and noticed that he was holding the hands of two kids that looked to be slightly older than the other one.
“Which means you need to get moving,” the mohawk-wearing guy said, letting go of one kid so the guy with the guitar could put the other on his back.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m going,” the guitarist replied, though watching him try to peel the child off him was comical as she clung like a koala and complained about not being able to go up on stage with him too.
“When you’re a bigger, I promise,” he said, which seemed to placate her as she finally allowed herself to be passed over.
“And make sure you drink a bottle of water before you get up there,” the guy with the mohawk said. “I don’t need you passing out on me like last year. At least with Masterson running things now, there’s plenty to go around, so drink it.”
“I will, I will, sheesh!” the guy declared before bolting off.
Even with three kids hanging on him, the guy managed one of the fiercest scowls I’d ever seen. “You damned well better.”
“Unca Hawk…” the smallest child began.
“I know, I know, swear jar,” the big guy muttered, followed by a longsuffering sigh. “Gonna go broke dropping dollars in that thing.”
The guys and I all chuckled at that, though there was a thought worming through my head, one that I was almost too afraid to think too hard on, before I talked myself out of it.
“So just show up backstage with a guitar?” I asked.