The Scar Boys

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

During our first sixty hours in Athens, we'd done the following:

Athens Thing #1: We found the mechanic and got the bad news about Dino.

Athens Thing #2: We listened to Johnny whine that we needed to give up the tour and go home.

Athens Thing #3: We waited outside the downtown phone booth while Johnny called his parents and told them that the van had broken down and that we were stranded. He made them promise to be in touch with everyone else's family. They made him promise to call again the next day.

Athens Thing #2: We listened to Johnny whine that we needed to give up the tour and go home.

Athens Things #4: We watched Richie try his hand at skateboarding. With his arms flailing and whirling, he managed to stay afloat all the way into the trough of the half-pipe, but as the momentum carried the board the opposite slope, he fell backward and landed hard on his ass. It took him a minute to realize he was okay, and when he did, he raised both arms and yelled, "Fucking A!" in triumph. Tony, Chuck, and the other skate punks shrieked with delight.

Athens Thing #2: We listened to Johnny whine that we needed to give up the tour and go home.

Athens Thing #5: We explored downtown Athens. We found a secondhand record store (we had no money so we browsed), a local sub shop called Judy's (where we learned that subs were called"po'boys"), and the University of Georgia campus (where a steady stream of unpleasant looks suggested we were less than welcome.)

Athens Thing #2: We listened to Johnny whine that we needed to give up the tour and go home.

Athens Thing #6: And we---meaning me---read a book in the living room while Johnny and Cheyenne sat on the front porch swing and made out. (Not true. I pretended to read a book while I spied on Johnny and Cheyenne through the venetian blinds.)

Those were the things we'd done after crash-landing in Athens. Here's what we hand't done.

Athens Tings #0: Play music.

Cheyenne followed me inside, and I led her straight to her bass. "Here," I said, "I'll get the other guys."

Cheyenne smiled, "Good idea. Where?"

"Richie set his drums up in the basement."

The basement of the skate house was a strange space. There were four rooms, each separated from the others but brick walls, all but one with a hard-packed dirt floor. There were old pieces of furniture scattered about, including a giant cherry wood dresser, a rolltop desk, and a toilet, which for some reason cracked Richie up.

The other things of note in the basement were the jumping spiders. I don't know if they were technically spiders because I'd never seen anything like them before, and haven't seen anything like them since. In fact, I'm not entirely sure they were of this world.

They were dime-sized bugs that hopped vertically in the air, moving with precision and menace. A group of them together looked like the tiny pistons of a tiny car engine. (Notice that I didn't say van engine because as you now know, FAP, van engines do now work.)

There were hundreds of the little monstrosities. They were mostly restricted to a back corner of the basement, which left the rest of the space safe for human habituation. Every so often one of the spiders would venture into the green zone, which made it fair game. The only house rule Tony and Chuck had was to never go into the basement in bare feet.

I kicked Richie's foot as I walked into our shared bedroom, waking him up. He made an unintelligible sound, a breath amalgam of "what" and "fuck," and looked at me.