Monday, September 12, 2011

Couple Skate

Randy is over there, by the bathroom. You can hear him knocking his bottle against the wall. Some kid just asked him what it was like when flannel was cool the first time. He keeps kicking the ground with his boot and asking the kid if he had ever heard why it rains all the time in Seattle. The kid repeats he doesn't know shit about the rain or Seattle or why they go together; he just wants to know what it feels like to be old. But he draws out the O for way too long. And Randy chuckles, he isn't that old, but it was great to always be warm, to always be prepared to chop down some tree or pose with some paper towels. Randy's voice sounds the same as it did back then. I remember laying in the bed of his truck one night in his back yard. He barely smoked the cigarette in his hand. He was counting the number of times he had said Truman that day. Randy had given a tour of the school to out of state prospective students and kept pointing out the spots that the old president used to smoke at. Truman didn't go to our school and he probably didn't smoke. Randy just wanted to give these kids something special to tell their parents about. A girl joins the kid and Randy now. They all look at me and shout something I can't make out. I'm picturing what it would look like to recreate the cover of that first Clash record with them. The girl walks up and says Randy told her I knew a guy who could help her out with this problem she has. I'd ask what it is but I can feel her staring at my hands so I don't bother.