alecto - your little bluejay (pollytrance) wrote,
alecto - your little bluejay
pollytrance

  • Mood:
  • Music:

Is "Douche Bag" A Curse?

Cigarettes and childrens' toys..
Summer nights and other joys...

I made Bonnie a techno mix and dropped it off with her. She seemed pleased. Next comes her Rasputina mix, sure to blow her away.

I saw Signs again tonight. #5. Hooray, hooray! It was good as usual. I wore my helmet and Stefan came with me dressed up as some sort of corrupted boarding school boy.

The guy at the ticket counter got one of those big dopey Oh-shit-someone's-actually-done-it grins on his face when I ordered a ticked for Signs. He looked at me, and then desperately at his coworker. I know he wanted to scream, "Look at her! Look at her!" but all that he managed to get out was a subdued, "Hey... hey man.."

Before I left he smiled at me and said, "You're all in the spirit of it and everything." So I stood out side, ticket in one hand and clove in the other, and some young girls came up to interrogate me about my peculiar garb. I explained to them that I was a big fan of the film, and also of the director, when suddenly I heard a bunch of screaming. The rest of their little group was standing at the theatre entrance and screaming, and pointing at the floor. I'm going to be honest and say that I thought perhaps one of the aliens was walking around in the lobby, but I was mistaken. It was merely a praying mantis.

"It's a big muthafuckin' cricket!" One of the girls cried.

"No, it's a roach!" said another.

A boy with whom I used to go to skool picked it up and chucked it outside. It landed with a snapping noise, and that's when I got upset. Praying mantises are beautiful creatures, and this one wasn't hurting anyone. He made like he was going to squish it and I shrieked at him, "Tim, don't kill it! Don't kill it!"

He looked at me, and then around at the score of screaming girls, and bellowed, "It's poisonous, oh GOD! It's gonna bite you! It'll jump on you! It can kill you." He got exactly what he wanted when they met his words with frightened shrieks.

By this time, one of the managers had noticed what was going on, and had picked the poor, shocked, and limping thing up, and was holding it.

"Don't kill it!" I pleaded with him.

"You want it?" He asked me.

I nodded my head. He handed it to me, and the most wonderful sensation swept over me. I was going to save a creature from a rowdy, immature boy, and a bunch of freaked out girls.

One of the girls yelled, "Look, she want it!" and the other girls gasped. A few came over, possibly to see if it had bitten me yet or if I was dying or something. I was fine. I was trying to navigate around them in order to deposit it into a nearby flower bed. When they saw that I was ok, they goggled at the strange creature, half afraid, half in awe. One girl made a gesture like she wanted to hold it, but when I offered it to her, she recoiled in terror.

That's when Stefan showed up and watched me place it in the plants, and asked me who was being murdered. I told them why they were screaming and he rolled his eyes.

We proceeded into the theater, and watched the movie with a particularly rambunctious audience. They screamed and oohed and aahed and gasped and guffawed. They talked to the screen as though they knew the people within.

After the lights came on, one of the louder ladies took one look at me and my helmet and started laughing. Great, deep, head-thrown-back belly laughs. Whether it was scornful laughter or not, I couldn't tell, but in all truth, it made me happy that I had made someone laugh.

Outside once again, I had another clove, and a lady holding a regular cigarette came up to me and asked me if she could try on my helmet. I apologised to her and told her that it was pinned on.

"Oh..." she said disappointedly. "Could you make me one?"

I was shocked. "Sure," I blurted out. She noticed my clove.

"Oh!" she said. "Those kind of cigarettes. You guys gothic?" Stefan almost had a hissy fit when she asked if he was gothic. She explained that she didn't mean it in a bad way, just curious. She was wearing kandy on her arm and I asked her if she raved.

"This?" She said, jiggling the bracelet a bit. "Nah. My daughter made this for me. Rave? I didn't think there were raves in Vallejo anymore."

"There really aren't," I told her sadly. "But there are in places like Concord, and Rancho Cordova, and in the city."

This peaked her curiosity and before she left we exchanged phone numbers. Apparently to discuss raves and to craft tinfoil hats. I'm glad I have the versatility to make friends with a mommy.

Right before we headed off to our respective cars, some G-monies rolled by in their Sentra, bumping some horribly ridiculous rap music, and were rapping right along with it in loud falsetto voices. A Hispanic security guard who was earlier bragging about having invented prison, and saying that people who worked at Napa state knew nothing, approached Stefan and I with a stern look on his face. He carried handcuffs, but shoved them politely out of view when he spoke to us. He said, "Hey, don't mind them niggers."

He wasn't black and he wasn't kidding. That is one of those lines that you just do not cross being in Vallejo. White and Hispanic people are a minority here, and that guy apparently had a deathwish. It was disturbing to say the least. Especially since Asian people and black people make up most of the population. Then you go one town over and Benicia is like, white-washed. It's very strange.

Then Stefan and I drove to First Street where a bunch of people were hanging out, including the new boy. We talked about going to the Matthew Turner slide, and maybe going to Denny's but ended up at Chevron, Christina and Anna gyrating to the likes of Vanilla Ice and the Clash. There was even a brief moment when we had partway convinced Stefan to do karaoke at the Pastime bar, but he chickened out, fearful of being eyed by drunk forty-somethings, and embarrassed to the core at the though of singing in front of them.

After a bit, the cops rolled up, the gyrating girls and carefree summer music disappeared, and Stefan and I were left sitting on the concrete. We went back to his house for a bit, listened to some music, applied some adhesive medical strips, and here I am now, relaying the tale to you.

How is everyone this morning?

5000
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 8 comments