Hold On To Love || Kirk Hammett

Part 31- Boulevard St. Michelle

TW//Disturbing Shit.

Long-ish chapter alert- is 5200 words alot?

"It's Eighteen Ninety-Seven, fuckers." Duncan screamed as the clock stroke midnight.

He shook his beer up and down and galloped around the room, spraying us with Heineken.

"It's Nineteen Eighty-Seven, not Eleventeen what- a- what- a." Ron slurred.

"I could already envision how black their lungs would be by the time they were thirty-five. My lungs weren't far off from theirs, mind you. I know a guy; I think you know him too. I never saw his eyes. He has curly hair and wears a rocking top hat. I think his name is Gash, Sass- no it was some punctuation mark. And his band's name is spears and tulips- No, Guns n Roses."

Helen put her scrawny ass hand on my shoulder, "Savannah, sweetie. You're talking to yourself."

Was I? No, I'm not; I never talk to myself, not when surrounded by people, anyways. As I was saying. Slash- Oh, there's his name, Slash. Slash gave us weed, although something was laced because it tasted funny and made Duncan act silly. He's acting like a drunk guy on LSD.

I told them how not to buy weed from others, but no. You're the younger one; shut your mouth, blah blah blah.

"Come on, sing it with me, 'I'm your Venus. I'm your fire, your desire." Ron slurred, taking me by my hands and swaying me back and forth.

I downed his shot, and that was all I needed. I was belting out to Shocking Blue while dancing with Neil. A glass of good ol' Jack and a joint at my fingertips. That was all a girl could ever ask for. We cheered as Duncan lit fireworks, watching them whizz off into the sky.

Soon I got so dizzy I had to sit down, or I'd fall face- first into the grass. Maybe, just maybe, I had a bit too much to drink, not that I'd ever admit that to anyone.

"WHAT THE FUCK." Helen screamed as glass shattering filled the air making me stop dead in my tracks.

In the entire 22 years that I've been alive, I have never sobered up faster.

"AHH FUCK! FUCK, SHIT, AND OTHER SUCH EXPLETIVES! FUCK!" Neil shrieked from inside the house, his voice hitting notes higher than Axl Rose's.

"YOU FUCKING." One bang. Two. Three, "SET THE FIREWORKS ALIGHT IN THE HOUSE!"

"Jy het die huis reggemaak. Jou fokken poes, hoe dom is jy?" I swore in Afrikaans.
You set the house alight. How dumb are you?

"Ek het nie geweet dit gaan gebeur nie!"

I didn't know this was going to happen!

"O, my god. Hy het the huis reggemaak." I rubbed my temples as Ron took the fire extinguisher and started to put the fire out.

"You fucking asshole. You almost killed me." Neil tackled Duncan, both hitting the floor with a loud thud. Once Neil was done, it was my turn.

I took him by his collar and shoved his head into the grass, "You set the house alight. Let this ietjie bietjie piece of information sink into your head. You. Fucking. Set. The. House. On. Fire." I punctuated each word by lifting his head and banging it against the ground. I was pissed. 1987 and this was how we started the year? Burning our house down?

"Don't forget he almost took me out!"

"You. Almost. Killed. Our. Drummer." I repeated my actions again.

He lifted his hand and tucked a strand of hair behind my ears, "Did I ever tell you how beautiful your eyes are?"

I rolled my eyes and rolled off his body. I carefully inched closer and closer to our house, peeking into the havoc they wreaked in our mansion. The big glass window, which revealed the glorious scenery of the ocean, was shattered into a million pieces. The ceiling, which was a pearly white, was dark as charcoal. Our couch was half burned, and Ron was putting off- Oh my soul, my telecasters.