Friday, July 12, 2002

Eyes closed. Stereo Blasting. Quiet Riot.

Jonas sang along. He knew the words.

I don't know why
I don't know why
You say my singin's out of time
I'm in no hurry
I don't know why
I don't know why
anymore oh woah
so C'mon feel the noize
Girls rock your boyz
Let's get wild, wild, wild,
wild, wild, wild

Quiet Riot understood. They understood that their was nothing to understand. Or if there was, it couldn't be understood. They didn't know why, so just blast heavy metal and get crazy and it should work itself out.

If only he was older, he could go get a tattoo, a motorcycle, a hot chick with feathered hair and a roach clip hanging off of her braid and he'd be outta there. Sorry Mom & Dad, love you, but it's time for this bad boy to hit the road.

Jonas opened his eyes and stared at the white painted ceiling. There was a chip in the paint, about the size of a nickel, right by the door to the bathroom. Looking out the window, there was Lindsey, their black labrador, chilling out. That dog was so relaxed, so cool. Why couldn't Jonas have been born a black labrador, then he wouldn't have all these worries, whatever they were.

Maybe a ride on his skateboard would clear his head out. He threw on his shoes, walked into the hallway, glancing quickly at the Justic League poster on his wall. Batman would know what to do. Hawkman would be like, kid, what's your problem. I'm from Thanagar, and they would eat your ass for breakfast out there. Green Arrow would be like...

What would Green Arrow do? He was kind of like the renegade guy in the Justice League, with his trippy looking beard, always hitting on Black Canary. Acting the clown but you knew that he knew what was up.

Get over it, who cares? What was wrong with him?

"Do you want anything to eat, Jonas?"
"No Mom, thanks, I'm gonna go skateboard for a while."
"Okay, honey. Be careful."

He started riding his board down the street, took a left after a block, and headed over towards Darryl's place. Maybe he'd want to practice Ollies for a while. Darryl was pretty good at ollies, but Jonas could not fukn ollie. He would practice for hours, HOURS, in front of his house, and barely get a centimeter off the ground. He was dreading that he had peaked at skateboarding and he was only ten.

There was old Mrs. Hawthorne and Wok-Wok, limping up the street. He came to a stop to look. Why did she name her dog Wok-Wok? Why did it have three legs? He'd asked her, and she'd said "Wok-Wok put his little paw in the cookie jar young man, so let that be a lesson to you." What in the name of all that was holy did that mean? He was obsessed with this old lady and her dog.

Jonas walked up to her. She was wearing a faded blue dress and had a yellow flower in her white hair, by her left ear. She had lots of wrinkles and brown marks on her arms. She smelled like medicine. "Mrs. Hawthorne, please tell me how your dog lost his leg, it's driving me crazy."

Mrs. Hawthorne smiled. As her mouth opened, Jonas saw her dentures shift over towards her cheek. Then a voice answered him, but it wasn't Mrs. Hawthorne's. "Look kid, leave it alone." Jonas looked down, and Wok-Wok was talking to him. A dirty white poodle with a pink bow in its tail was speaking, it's mouth in perfect time with the words. The dog's voice was gentle yet firm. "Cookie jar, remember the cookie jar. Now buzz off."

Jonas froze. Mrs. Hawthorne and Wok-Wok went around him and kept hobbling up the street. He could feel sweat sliding down his nose, his chin, his forehead. He got on his skateboard and continued on to Darryl's house, his heart practically beating through his chest.