Sunday, June 24, 2007

Johnny Rumble:
Intended Audience or Wrong Fairytale?

I pulled out a cigarette and brought it to my lips.

"You smoke?" she asked.

"Only lightly, Both the sticks and the time between."

The luggage conveyer started creaking. Bags spilled out behind rubber doors. The old man spoke next.

"So much has changed about you in the few weeks since we left, Johnny. Tattoos, smoking, your hair, your whole attitude has changed..."

I grabbed my bag off the turnstile, and walked toward the parking lots. Her parents followed.

"When I first met your daughter, sir, I had a give-a-shit attitude and cared for nothing. Not even myself."

I fished through my breast pocket for my lighter.

"Slowly I started to care for her. To make sure she was all right with herself. Happy, if you will. I cared about making the most of the time we had together. Movies, dinner, shopping, driving around for the fucks of it, whatever. I need money. I began to care about my job."

The automatic doors parted ways and I flicked open my lighter.

"I worked harder, faster, longer, all to the get the bees. SLowly I grew to like her as more than a friend. I fell in love with her. My whole world changed. It seemed more tolerable. Rosy, and pleasent. She became the most important my world. I was happy with myself, and with her."

I paused. Inhale, hold, exhale. Smoke flowed from my nostrils. Weither they listened or not, it didn't matter. I was saying it for myself.

"When she left, my world became darker, less secure. I started a backwards slide. Back into who I was before your daughter. I got implusive tattoo's, mohawked my hair, quit my job, started smoking again. Securing the tickets out here didn't help. Talking with her only made me realize how little time we really spent together. I had returned."

Inhale, hold, exhale. I turned right into his face.

"My flight out is in two weeks. I have two weeks to become who I was with your daughter. I intend to put every goddamn second to good use."

Flicking my now stubbed stick on the dark asphalt, grinding my boot on top of it, I threw my bag in the trunk and slammed the lid down.

Johnny Rumble

If I should fall from grace with god
Where no doctor can relieve me
If I'm buried 'neath the sod
And still the angels won't receive me

Let me go boys
Let me go boys
Let me go down in the mud
Where the rivers all run dry

-Shane MacGowan


  1. Oi, Um, what do you say to this sort of thing? Anything seems corney as Fuck...Props to that a Pogues song at the end?


  2. You start smoking and I'll have to kill you. Cause than I'll want to and you won't let me.

    and I like it. Even though it's true enough to scare me.

  3. i met a girl like that once. i still smoke.