Are you punk enough? (from Punk Minneapolis)

A Story by Peter Joseph Swanson

an excerpt

(this excerpt from my published novel PUNK MINNEAPOLIS is censored for the internet)

“They’re empty,” Mark said. “I was going to throw them out.”

“I like to look at my pile of empty beer cans. My bouquet.”

“Bouquet?”

“That’s what Bunny Umber called it once and I couldn’t stop laughing.”

Mark asked,” You’ve been b##ing her a lot lately, haven’t you?”

Raven smiled, embarrassed. “Yeah, so you can’t call me a f## anymore.”

“But she’s so old? You like b##ing your mother? What a f##.”

“She’s not that old. Stop talking like a yuppie.”

Mark said, “I bet she’s thirty. That’s old.”

“She says she isn’t thirty, yet. She insists she isn’t.”

Mark said, “She’s lying to keep herself from getting laughed out of town by all the punkers. And she’s such a poseur. If she’s a punker then I’m a f###’n rock star.”

Raven frowned. “She is too a punker.”

“Is not. She’s a clown.”

“Is not!”

“She just dresses louder and louder to distract from her hagging face. She dresses like a clown!” Mark laughed.

Raven frowned. “Does not! You are so cold.”

“Am not.”

Raven asked, “What makes a punker, then?”

“You have to be really cool. That means young, first. That’s for sure.”

“There’s some old hippies from the 60s still around. Won’t punks ever grow old?”

Mark rubbed his ear again. “I suppose, but I don’t want to think about it. It just seems gross. Or at least sad. Or at least really f###ed up and stupid.”

“You’re not fair. Everybody grows old. Unless you want all punkers to die young from a drug overdose or something. That’s f###ed up to want everybody who’s cool to be dead.”

“Why are you such a darksider, then, if you think punkers are cool? Being a darksider seems kinda pansy.”

“I’m not a f###’n cookie cutter person. I like being this way better. That’s cool, too. And being rude isn’t cool. It’s just being rude. So don’t call me a pansy unless you’re a yuppie.” Raven put his hands together and gave Mark a Hindu bow.

“What a flaming thing to do. What was that?”

“Don’t be prejudiced. Or are you a yuppie? God is in you, too. I wasn’t bowing to you. I was bowing to God. I can actually hate your guts, and not even forgive you for always calling me a pansy, and still bow to you because I’m ignoring you and am just bowing to God who’s still in you, no matter what an a##hole you are.”

“That’s f###ed up.”