The better times

Another day in this s****y little hovel, waking up on a urine soaked matress, newspaper clinging to my torn and dirty pants, the taste of cheap wine still hangs in my mouth.

 

The early morning fog rolls in from the bay and as I sit and look out the broken window I still can't help but feel that London is the exact place I'm supposed to be.

 

The thin walls don't stop the sounds of my fellow tenants as they go about their morning bussiness, fighting, f*****g and playing sex pistols at an entirely too loud volume. They are my kind of people, Punks, leather and chains, spiked hair and stubble, we don't hate the system but we all know that someone has to fight it.

 

I stumble into the bathroom and turn on the sink, I'm lucky, we have water today. I splash the tepid brown liquid on my face and look in the cracked mirror at my long and wrinkled face, the piercings that line my nose and eyebrows, my mohawk is limp and hangs to one side looking as tired and dejected as I feel.

 

The night before was a blur of drinks and smoke, screaming obsecenities at my mates while trying to dance to some s**t band down at the local bar, the fact that I woke up alone was actually a relief, I didn't need any more chick troubles.

 

No shower today, I didn't want to press my luck with the super, the water in the sink would have to do for now.

 

Walking out of the bathroom wiping my skinny chest with a wet towel I found myself singin along to the music that came in through the ceiling,

 

"London calling!...hmmm....hmmmm.hmmm!"

 

I kicked over my pile of clothes and watched the cockroaches scatter, nothing looked clean but whatever.

 

My leather jacket went on last, my most prized possesion, without it I was just another bum living on the streets, but when I had this baby on I was Punk, and believe it or not that means something in this day and age.

 

"Tommy, Tommy, get your a*s out here!"

 

Swearing under my breath I grabbed my last joint, dropped the switchblade into my front pocket and opened the door and tried my best to smile at the short red headed heathen that stood there, her arms crossed against her perky little tits. She caught my staring and grabbed my arm,

 

"Come on jack-a*s we aint got time for that crap!"

 

I let her lead me most of the way through the apartment building before I shrugged off her hand and spun her against a wall, I kissed her until she grabbed my jacket and kissed me back. Pulling away I looked at the twinkle in her green eyes and almost told her I loved her, but she turned away when she saw my mouth open. She laughed as she ran through the door, the fog nearly enveloping her.

 

Kicking the front door open I jumped down the steps and unto the cold London streets, my mates were waiting and smoking a joint. Laughter and curses made me feel at home, I put my arm around Charlie and grabbed the joint out of Johnny's mouth.

 

"Hey, you wanker, I didn't get a hit!"

 

I pulled in a drag and smiled at the tall negroe as he glared at me, I handed the jay back to him and gave Charlie another kiss, blowing the sweet smoke down her throat. It was obscene and I loved every second of it.

 

These were the days of my youth and I had no idea how quickly they would be over, how soon the laughter would become screams, how quickly the love would turn to hate. These were the last few days before the whole world changed.