Cigarettes And Lollipops.

Cigarettes and Lollipops

By Alan Goodenough.

I climbed out of the front seat of my mums car, said thanks for the lift and closed the door. As I rounded her side of the car she wound down the window and told me to have fun and not get into any trouble. I walked up to the front door and knocked. After a minute or two Johnny's mum answered the door. She waved passed me at my mother and welcomed me in. “Johnny's upstairs” she said. I removed my trainers, poked my head around the door into the living room to say “Hi” to Johnny's dad before darting up the stairs to Johnny's room.

“Hey Johnny,” I said as I walked into his room.

“Hi Matt,” he said back to me. He had his white Les Paul guitar strapped around him and began playing some old punk riffs. His walls were covered in posters of rock bands and supermodels. I sat on his floor as he played on flicking through old copies of magazines.

“What's the plan then?” I asked.

“Thought we could go into town and see what's around.”

“Yeah? OK, I'm up for that.”

“Shall we call Rachelle and Steve?”

“Why not.” Johnny put the guitar down and went into his parents room to use the phone. I could hear him talking to Steve and he arranged for us to meet them at the benches around the tree in the town centre at 8pm.

Johnny came back into the room. “Right, dumb ass, let's go!”

We went down the stairs and then put our shoes on. “We're just off out, mum,” Johnny called through to the living room.

“OK, “ his mum shouted back, “have a good time.”

“We will,” I replied.

I opened the front door and we walked down the street. “Fag?” Johnny asked, poking a packet of cigarettes towards me.

“Sure,” I said, taking one from the pack. Johnny took one and lit it and handed me the lighter. I sucked on the end of the cigarette and held the flame to it. As it lit I coughed as the hot smoke hit the back of my throat, I wasn't very good at smoking.

We walked down the cycle track into the town centre. On the way through the park Johnny pointed out where he used to have a little den when he was growing up in which he used to keep Spiderman comics and a stash of porn magazines that he had liberated from a skip when the next estate to his was being built. “I spent hours in the little hut I built out of crates. It was well hidden behind the bushes. Had my first wank in there using the magazines I found in the skip.”

“Thanks for sharing.”

“Well, we all do it, Christ I'm doing it five or six times a day.”

We left the cycle track through the park and finished our journey on the path into town. We rounded the corner and went down into the subway. Johnny always ran through the subway, he didn't like being underground, but he preferred it to trying to cross the always busy one way system in our little town. We walked past the library and the bike racks, I kicked the back wheel of a bike so hard that some of the spokes came out. “Nice one,” Johnny said.

Steve and Rachelle were sat waiting for us on the benches, cuddled up and kissing as ever.

“Hey guys.”

“Hey Matt, Johnny.”

“So where we off to?”

“I hear anyone can get served in the Jockey.”

“Jockey it is then.”

We walked back up past the library and back down the subway. The Jockey was just around the corner from there. We went in and waited a little while, in our youthful way to not appear eager to get served. I flicked through the jukebox box, put a pound coin in to it and chose a selection of songs. Johnny went to the bar first. He was a year older than the rest of us and had no problem getting served. I went up to the bar next, with Steve and Rachelle behind me. “Um... Fosters, please. Pint.” I said to the lady serving, trying to sound grown up.

“Do you have any ID?”

“Um.. er.. shit.. looks like my younger brother has nicked it again,” I said thumbing through my wallet.

“Make sure you bring some next time.” That was easy. She poured my pint and I went sit with Johnny. Rachelle and Steve went through the same thing with the bar maid, both being told to bring ID the next time they were in.

Johnny was already halfway through his pint. “So have you fucked her yet?”

“Not yet, but she snuck a condom on in my pocket just before Christmas.”

“Game on,” said Johnny making a fist and tapping it against mine. “It's good fun. Don't forget though, the first time is going to be shit; in, out, in, boom.”

“Tim said it lasted him fifteen minutes.”

“Tim's a fucking liar, that's text book talk. First time is over like that,” Johnny clicked his fingers, “don't worry about it though, it happens to all of us. It gets better and soon you'll be doing it for hours. Me and Sarah went for three hours the other day, just fucking. She given you head yet?”

“Nah, she went to but decided she didn't like the taste.”
“She'll get used to it, none of them like the first, keep trying her though.” Johnny lit a cigarette and passed me one over. I didn't choke this time.

“So guys, we just gonna sit here all - hey Matt, don't blow your smoke over me - all night?” Steve asked.

“There's beer, what more do we need?”

“Some excitement.” Rachelle said.

“Baby, there's beer, we'll get drunk, it'll see us OK.”

“I love this song!” I exclaimed as one by Madness came on. We sat on our seats and bounced along to it.

“I gotta hear that again,” Johnny said once it was over and went to the Jukebox and filled it with pound coins and put the same song on fifteen times in a row. “We're gonna get thrown out for this,” he said as he returned to his seat. “So you two fucking yet?”

“Johnny! That's private!” said Rachelle. Steve looked coyly at Johnny and smirked. Rachelle slapped his leg.

I got up to order another pint as Johnny laughed loudly at Steve for getting slapped. This time I bought an alchopop, Diamond Zest, it tasted somewhat akin to tarmac on the first few swigs, but soon tasted good as the drunk took away my taste buds. “So what time we rehearsing tomorrow? I've got a new song written.”

“I hope it's none of that slow, fast, slow, fast bullshit you've been writing recently, we're a fucking punk band, not Nirvana.”

“I write what I write.” Johnny and I were always arguing over the musical direction.

“It's more in line with our first few songs, it'll sit between 'Vote' and 'Teenage Riot' nicely.”

“Good, cos 'Illusion' sucks, can't we play it more Ramones style? Loose that picking bit.”

“Dude, you don't like it cos you can't fucking play it properly.” Johnny reached across the table and punched my arm.

“Typical, Steve, you should see these two in the rehearsal room, they fight more than we practice.” Rachelle said.

“Can I come listen?” asked Steve.

“Sure, just come down with Rachelle tomorrow.” Johnny got up to go to the bathroom. The bar lady shouted over “Did you need to put this bloody song on so many times? I'm cancelling it.”

The evening flowed like this for a few more hours, before we staggered to the door. “Hey, let's get take out...” Johnny said. “Can I get two bottles of wine to go, please?” He asked the bar maid.

“Sure, red or white?”

“Which is best?” Way to show your ignorance, John, I thought.

“White is my favourite.”

“I'll take two white then.” The landlady reached into the fridge and pulled out two bottles.

“Seven pounds, please.”

Johnny paid the lady and we headed out the door. “Remember to bring ID next time!” She shouted after us.

“Where we going then?”

“To drink these.”

“Um, you know we need a bottle opener, yeah?” Rachelle said to Johnny.

“No problem.” Johnny reached into his ruck sack and produced a cork screw. “Always be prepared.”

“So where we gonna drink these?”

“Down behind the new supermarket? Won't get spotted by the police down there.”

We walked through the shopping precinct and across the road, down the small alleyway and out into the car park of the new supermarket. Behind the supermarket was a cycle track with a waist high wall running down it. Rachelle, Steve and Johnny sat on the wall, I sat facing them on the floor. Johnny took a hit from the first bottle and passed it on. “Shit, this stuff is vile.”

I took a hit and agreed with him. I passed it on to Rachelle and she in turn passed it on to Steve and then back around the circle.

“So what else you got in that bag then, John?” Rachelle asked him.

“Survival stuff.”

“Like what?” I asked.

Johnny opened his bag up and showed us the contents: a plastic bag, the cork screw, a roll of toilet paper (because “you never know when you're going to get caught”) and book by Steven King and a Bible.

“Why've you got a bible in here?” I asked him

“Why not?” Johnny replied.

“Well, you're not religious.”

“No, but it's interesting to read, and it arms me up for when those guys are spouting their religious monologues outside Woolworths at Christmas time.”

“Let's burn it.”

“What? You can't do that to a Bible!” Steve exclaimed.

“Yeah we can, it's just a book.” I said.

“Hang on, it's my book.” Johnny said.

“It'd be a punk rock thing to do.” The best thing about being fifteen is that it'd be punk rock was a valid excuse, a reason even, to do something. And it certainly made Johnny think about it a little harder.

“OK, let's burn this fucker!”

“You're going to hell for this.” Steve said.

“Shut up Steve.” Johnny and I chanted in unison.

Johnny got his lighter out and I held the Bible to shield it from the wind. Johnny put the flame to it and the corner of the Bible took it. I waited for it to really take hold and then dropped the book Bible on the floor. The Bible closed up and the flame went out. “Shit,” I said, “let's try again.”

“This time hold it longer.”

“There's not enough air for it to burn, you know, the pages are too thin and tightly together.”

“Shut up, Steve.” I said. Rachelle, just stood there watching us, she was used to the stupid things that Johnny and I got up to. I held the book open again and Johnny lit the corner of some pages. We both counted as the flames took hold of the Bible. Once it looked like the Bible was finally burning I placed it on the wall. We stood around it to shield it from the wind, but again it went out. We tried a third time and still it wouldn't burn.

“I don't think we're supposed to burn this thing.”

“I need a piss.” I said out loud to everyone.

“Piss on this!” Johnny said, holding up the slightly smouldering Bible.

“Put it on the floor.”

Johnny placed the Bible on the floor and I unzipped and started to piss on it. Johnny stood next to me and did the same. Out piss soaked the pages of Deuteronomy, Genesis, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. Steve looked on in horror as we desecrated the good book. Rachelle kind of laughed she was a little unsure of all this.

Once we'd finished pissing we zipped up. Johnny opened the second bottle of wine, took a hit and passed it around again.

“You guy's shouldn't've done that, that's a fucking Bible!” Steve said.

“Shut up and drink, ya moron.” Johnny said.

“Don't call him a moron,” Rachelle told him.

“Fuck you!” Johnny retorted.

I passed the bottle on to Rachelle, she took a hit and passed it on to Steve. Steve took a big gulp and as he held the bottle out to Johnny he puked. The puke went all over his shoes, Johnny's shoes and the piss soaked Bible.

“Hey, you shouldn't puke on the Bible, that's the good book, man,” Johnny said to him in his most sarcastic voice.

“Fuck you,” Steve shouted and jumped at Johnny, punching him in the chest. Johnny fell backwards, surprised at the blow. Steve landed on top of Johnny and kept punching him. I tried to pull him off, but he was moving too fast. I looked at Rachelle, she was shouting to Steve to get off. Johnny was a lot of things, but he wasn't a fighter. Steve was only little, but he could take the best of them when angry enough.

“This isn't good Christian behaviour!” Johnny was shouting as Steve reigned blow after blow on him.

“What we gonna do Rach?”

Rachelle walked over to the two bodies squirming around on the floor and grabbed Steve by his hair. “Stop it, Steve, fuck.. you can't handle your drink at all.” She pulled him up and got him by the arm and pulled him away. Johnny sat up, his face covered in blood. He reached over and picked up the piss soaked Bible and threw it at Steve and it hit him in the chest. Rachelle just let him go and he jumped back on Johnny.

“I've had enough of this.” I said to Rachelle.

“Me too, damn I'm drunk.”

“I'll walk you home,” and with that we walked off leaving Johnny and Steve to work it out.