indie

saturday

the city was envelopped in darkness, the night pierced by the bright neon lights of the city. indie emerged from the smoke-filled club, trying desperately to remember where mohawk had left his car. it had to be somewhere around there. indie turned to skater, who stumbled dazedly out from the dark mouth of the club’s entrance. the club hadn’t bothered about id’s and legal drinking ages; none of them ever really bothered. as long as they made money, even if it was from angst-ridden fifteen year olds like zero and skater. besides, most of them were close enough to 19, if they didn’t already look like it.
“where’s the car?” indie asked, rubbing her arms, trying to keep warm in the crisp, sharp night. skater led her through a maze of dark alleys and streets before arriving at a small parking lot. she unlocked the car and let skater in. she turned the key on the ignition, and the car roared to life. the tape deck screamed the loud, obnoxious, peppy noise of rancid. indie frowned slightly and turned it off; ska punk was too happy for her. she drove the car to the entrance of the club, where the rest of them were waiting. they piled into the car, all of them distinctly exhibiting their escapes. neo reeked of alcohol; he was so drunk he could barely stand without mohawk and acid’s help. meanwhile, zero, skater and mohawk smelled sickeningly of a nauseating mixture of marijuana and nicotine. acid was high on his trademark drug which had given him his name. indie was enjoying her caffeine and sugar; she was extremely caffeine and sugar sensitive. besides, she was baby-sitter for the night. indie sped down the brightly lit streets, past the freaks on parade, the freaks whom they were family to. they had cavorted from bar to bar, club to club, filling up their empty lives and escaping them. indie had no idea where to go now but home. last call had been hours ago, and most places were closing or already closed. when they got back home, neo was deposited on indie’s bed to sleep off the alcohol. mohawk and skater had mysteriously disappeared into zero’s room after the two had exchanged several encrypted glances; they were passionless, but it was driven by boredom on skater’s part and hope on mohawk’s. zero, indie and acid wandered into the living room to worship their box of cathode rays. there, they found that lisp was home for once. she was huddled in a corner, crying and moaning and screaming. indie was snapped out of her sugar-induced state. “triple-dipped acid. best stuff on earth. better than snapple.” acid offered lisp fervishly, trying to help. lisp looked at him deplorably as she was led past him. once in the upstairs bedroom, lisp calmed down slightly, not having any patterns or objects to distort her already deformed perception. indie sat in the darkness, holding lisp, trying to ignore the muffled sounds of sex from the next room.