The Loser Punks - Prologue
Standing in the middle of the bridge, shoulder length hair blowing in the wind, nostrils flaring, and eyes set hard at the car racing toward him, Stick held firm committed to not moving until the last possible moment. The car continued its path without hesitation and if the youth did not move it would not slow down or hesitate, but continue its path right through the muscular young body. The driver looked on in horror thinking that the person in the road was either suicidal or mentally deranged. Believing up until the last moment the gaunt young figure in the road was not going to move the driver went to hit his brakes.
As the car jammed on its brakes less than 500 feet from the young man he let out a hellish scream at the top of his lungs, “FUUUUUUUUUCK!!!” and turned running to the side of the bridge and then jumped. The driver sat stunned, heart racing, not believing what he just saw.
Jumping from the car and peering over the edge just in time to see the young man sailing through the air, a white cannon ball, penetrating the surface of the thick brown water and submerging in its cool depth, staying under and not reemerging in the spot where he penetrated the water’s surface, moments later reappearing downstream out of the driver’s sight with a huge smile on his face feeling exhilarated and alive.
A second later there was another scream and another body jettisoned off the bridge passing by the still shocked driver on the bridge, hitting the water within feet of the first youth, submerging and not reappearing within the drivers view. Again, a head bobbed up out of the water satisfied and alive. The two young men on seeing each other burst into laughter and swam to the shore.
Reaching the rocking shore of the river they navigated the jagged shoreline, shoes on their feet to keep from getting cut on the hard stone, and made their way to the sandy shore beyond. Once safely on land they both collapsed staring up at the sun knowing that they couldn’t linger long. They jumped up running, heading across a gravel road, down a steep slope, to the car parked along the bottom of the bridge. They peeled out of the drive, onto the highway and sped off toward town.
As they drove along a cop car passed in the opposite lane. The police officer glanced at them suspiciously but continued in the opposite direction not slowing. They kept their eyes straightforward attempting to look as though they were just out for a drive. As the cop car passed they kept a watchful eye through the rearview mirror to see if he would turn around. As the cop car made it to the top of the hill and then down the other side without turning around Chuck hit the accelerator to make as much distance between them and the cop as they could.
Speeding down the road, windows down, stereo turned to full volume with violent guitars and brutal lyrics blaring, the two boys smiled and screamed along with the song, a warm breeze filling the car and their lungs, exhilaratingly fresh, sharpened the emotion of youth.
The car continued to race down the highway heading back into the city ahead. Nearing the city limits and passing a sign that said, “Welcome to Springstone your Gateway to the Northwoods”. This was the dropping off point for traffic heading north from the Chicago and Milwaukee. The last stop of any city larger than 15,000 people on the central Wisconsin corridor.
The city, rather than being a bastion of culture and opportunity, seemed to these two youths a prison which trapped and held them back. Opportunity could not be gained in a small community where too many people knew them and held all their delinquent activity within its collective memory. When one could not receive forgiveness for youthful indiscretions the only choice was to live in full acceptance of one’s reputation and grow it even more.
Flying over the bridge leading into the city, going over the very same river that they had performed their flying antics off from, the car slowed enough to make a sharp corner before accelerating out of the corner squealing tires and throwing dirt.