Nothin' Legal, Man

Ain't nothing else like it. Man, I love going to a drag race. I fucking love cars. Love 'em.

Those new hemi engines are something else. If I had a car, I'd soup it up, too. You should have seen some of those hot rods. There was a bunch of Deuces there and a couple of T-Rods. This guy, he had a '49 Merc and it was tuff as hell.

Someday, I'll have me one of those.

Steve, Soda, Johnny and Two-Bit all went. We were gonna pick up some chicks, but we didn't, on account of Steve and Soda bein' pussies and worried that their girls were gonna catch 'em.

The truant officer come sniffing around again today, wanting to know why I wasn't in school.

Why in the hell would I be going to school? There's no action there at all, and those damn teachers are always trying to tell me what to do. I don't need that shit.

Besides, there isn't a damn thing they can teach me that I need or want to know. The streets have taught me a damn sight more than any old bitch behind a desk.

He wants me to go back to school. I won't do it; I ain't going to try to catch up on all the dumb shit I've missed.

Man, whenever I start thinking about heading out on my own and ditching Sylvia, she reminds me just why I date her in the first place.

Mostly she's got a body that makes you sit up and beg for more.

I swung over to her place when I got word she was making eyes at Shepard again. That punk; if I hear he's laid one finger on her, I'm going to fucking let some air out of his tires.

She was more than glad to see me, and since her parents weren't home, we tried out their bed for a change. It's a lot more comfortable screwing when you're not worried about falling off the side or getting a shift stick in your ribs.

Anyway, I banged her good and left her satisfied. Now it's time to go hunt up some real action.

I stayed over at Buck's place, but he was bitching before the sun even came up. Since I didn't go to sleep before too long before that, it was pretty much a pisser.

So I ambled over to the Curtis house, but they'd all taken off for church. What the fuck? Who wants to sit around, listening to some asshole who probably dips into the sacramental wine and the offering plate yelling about God? I bet anything old Sodapop was fucking miserable. Serves him right for being a punk.

I went over Steve's, but him and his old man were having words, and when I showed up, his dad decided his hoodlum friends were good enough reason to throw Steve out of the house for about the fifth time this month, and now Steve's all hacked off at me. Fuck him; I ain't done nothing. It ain't my fault he's dad's fucking section eight.

So Steve went one way, and I went the other and found myself over at Two-Bit's place, but his little rugrat of a sister was underfoot, and he'd told his mom he'd keep an eye on her, which you might as well leave a little kid by herself than leave her with Two-Bit. I just don't like little kids, so I split.

I dropped by Johnny's house, but his mom and dad were hollering at each other and making a scene -- you could hear it all the way down the block. Him and me had to duck a couple plates and got called just about everything under the sun by his mother on the way out the door. Good thing for her I don't hit girls.

So we went on down town, shoplifted a couple packs of smokes from that convenience store down on Lex, and just goofed off some. Got a couple of those middle class girls good, giving them the eye until they ran off like the devil was coming after them. Serves those little bitches right. Who the fuck do they think they are, standing around and eyeing us?

Look, y'all fan things?

Leave me the fuck alone.

If you ain't on my flist, I ain't interested. Stop sending me fucking messages.

Yes, I am the sex; I fucking know already.

Got picked up by the cops today. They wanted to discuss a little matter of some asshole with some broken fingers.

The son of a bitch went to the cops. What a pussy. I'm gonna have to go hunt him up and kick his ass again. Teach him to bring cops in on a beef.

Y'know, it might be okay to go somewhere without some of these assholes getting up in my face?

Anyway, I had to stomp some punk today. I think the son of a bitch cracked one of my ribs, but I think I broke a couple of fingers, so we're even. I'd rather have a cracked rib over busted fingers any day. My fingers're broken, I can't salute the cops. They'd think something was wrong with me.

I gave him a split lip and a fucking black eye, too. He ain't picking up no chicks for a while.

Speaking of picking up chicks, I've got to split for the dingo.

Man, I just got out of jail again.

Worst damn thing about being in jail is being bored. Ain't shit to do in there, except getting into fights.

That wouldn't be so bad, except those damn harness bulls come down on you. Sons of bitches are pretty handy with them batons, too. What kind of pussy name is that, anyway? A baton? You wouldn't catch me dead with a girlie-sounding weapon like that. Gimme a switch any day.

So anyways, they tell me I got out 'cause of good behavior. That ain't shit. They kicked me out because it was too fucking crowded.

I get tired of eating that jail food, too, any fucking way. That shit is rank.

So I guess I'll go look up some of the guys and see what's shaking.

Where the fuck have I been?

Where the fuck have you been?

Jesus, I been in the reformatory. Where the hell else do you think I've been all this time?

I'm gonna go catch up with the gang. Later.

Stopped over at the Curtis house today. Mrs. Curtis is okay; she knows the score, man.

I was going to beat the shit outta Tim, but she talked me out of it. I guess I can't really blame Shepard when Sylvia was throwing herself at him.

I'm still going to get even with that little bitch.