These are random quotes from my novel What the Hell Ever Happened to Yuri Rozhenko? Think of them as mini-excerpts! This work is the sequel to my novel Crash Shadow: A Tale of Two Addicts.
“You can’t pay for no four year with this job,” snorted Chafe as she leaned on the counter.
“That’s when I apply for grants and loans.”
“What about a scholarship?”
“Scholarship? What? For washed up ol’ twenty something punks?”
Hearse turned to Skye. “You’re going to get hair in your beer.”
“Hair in my beer!” shrilled Skye in a comic voice. The purple haired woman didn’t budge, still looking right at Hearse.
“I like hair in my beer. Mmm good!” said Skye in the same voice.
“You ain’t got no idea what she’s doing?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Anything from junky to sell out. You know, not like some people in the scene.”
“Yeah, the forever fuck ups versus the party boys and girls that you know are gonna be okay.”
“I don’t think he’ll look at me the same way again,” said Skye.
“Why? Your ma wasn’t banging your high school boyfriend, was she?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“The best part is that he probably thinks I made that story up.”
“You guys dropped acid?”
“Yeah,” said Davita as she twirled her hand, indicating everyone sitting at the table.
“That cat can’t be that fascinating, even on acid,” said Skye.
“We’re trying to see if we can make it come alive,” muttered Scream.
Frito looked at Skye. “Did you ever consider stripping?”
“Hell naw.”
“Why not? You look pretty damn good. I’d bet you’d make a lot of tip money.”
“Please. I’d be lucky if I got spare change.”
“That does it!” declared Lindsey. “Let’s start our own strip club. Lotsa naked punk chicks in their mid to late twenties!”
“Sure. Some see your ex naked. Again!” bellowed Static.
“Come see some tits and ass!” declared Frito.
“Shouldn’t it be ass and tits?” said Lindsey.
“What?”
“Well, most of us have way more ass mass than breast mass, so really the ass-to-tits ratio is way off. We should be honest in our advertising.”
“We call her Bitch Bitch,” said Scrape. “She’s always here or wandering somewhere nearby.”
“Why don’t you call her by her name?”
“We don’t know her name,” said Casey. “Her favorite word is ‘bitch’. She says it all the time. If you try talking to her you just get a stream of cuss words. Most of which is ‘bitch’. So we just call her Bitch Bitch.”
“Kinda shallow, ain’t it?” said Max.
“I can’t be shallow. I’m a lesbian.”
“What? What kinda bullshit is that?”
“I’m a lesbian, therefore nothing I do or say is shallow. It’s all really deep and meaningful.”
“You’re a crazy ass punk hobo,” said Skye. “How the hell do you not do anything shallow?”
“It’s just a rule. Lesbians are all automatically pure. Get used to it bitch!”
“Come on, how long can we keep doin’ this shit?”
“That’s the fucked up part. A long time. We could do this shit for the rest of our lives, even if we try to escape.”
“Skye Wright. That’s my full name. Do you need my middle name?”
“No, I need your real name.”
“That is my real name.”
“Bullshit. That’s some puerile punk name that you people always make up.”
Onion wheeled around and looked right at Casey. “I called Danzig a dildo once.”
“A lotta people called Danzig a dildo,” said Casey.
“I told Tim Armstrong he looked like a poser.”
“A lotta people call Armstrong a poser.”
“You sayin’ Armstrong’s a poser?”
“No. People just say that to be stupid.”
“You sayin’ I’m stupid?”
“Did you call Armstrong a poser?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you’re stupid!”
Zeke looked at Casey. “You remind me of my ol’ lady.”
“Oh geez, I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? How d’ya think I feel?”
“Are y’scared?” asked Scorch.
“Scared?”
“A lil’ breeder like you surrounded by all these bulldykes?”
“Butch please. I’m a clubber from San Francisco. I’ve known hyper-macho diesel dykes that make you look like a lipstick lesbian!”
Skye noticed something on the table. “Cool sugar skull.”
Zeke looked down at the small ceramic skull as if he had forgotten it was there. “Yeah, that’s for my ofrenda.”
“O-whatta?” asked Casey.
“I’m making a day of the dead altar. Dia de Los Muertos.”
“You don’t look Mexican.”
“I’m not. But, I’ve been around enough Dias to want to make my own. Jus’, y’know.”
“For your family?” asked Skye.
“Not my family family, maybe my ma, but mostly for my real family.”
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Skye kickin’ it next to her beat up old band sticker covered car.
