Dallas Winston Has A Sister? (Outsiders Fanfic)

Greasers, Hobos, Lobsters

        We were on our way home, it was probably eleven at night and we were planning on staying out later regardless of what Dally, Darry, or everyone else's parents would say, until Two-Bit puked in some bushes.  I'm pretty sure everyone but Pony and I had had something alcoholic, even Johnny.  I think Two-Bit, or maybe Soda or Steve, had spiked his coke because he was talking a whole bunch which never happened, and most of what he said didn't make any sense.

        Soda had had maybe one, and Steve was better than Two-Bit, but it was pretty much up to Pony and I to keep Two-Bit or Steve from running into the street, and Soda seemed just like his normal self and was trying to make sense of whatever nonsense Johnny was sputtering.

        It was kind of a weird night already, but it was made even weirder when some Socs pulled up onto the curb in front of us.  I hadn't seen them following us because for once they had used their puny brains and turned the headlights off.

        When they got out though-- there were six of them and six of us-- I noticed that they didn't look like your average Soc from Tulsa.  Instead of Oxfords under sweaters and dress pants and loafers,  they had polo shirts with Letterman jackets from a different school, khaki cargo pants, and boot-type dress shoes, and I figures they were Socs from out of town.

        "What are you supposed to be?" one of them jeered, and I figured they must be pretty drunk themselves to ask a stupid question like that.

        "Greasers!" Steve said loudly.

        "What?" one of them asked, dumbfounded.

        "Hoods, J.D.'s, delinquents, bums, hobos, hermits, lobsters, crust-ah-she-ins," Steve went on a rant, incorrectly pronouncing 'crustaceans'.  He was pretty drunk to say the least.

        They all gave us a you-guys-are-crazy look and then one of them wisely said, "You're not worth our time, white trash," before they all piled back into their car.

        Their last remark made me mad, and I was ready to kill them, but it was a good thing they left because even with half of us intoxicated we could have whipped them.

        We continued walking to the Curtis's, and Johnny was saying something about how their shoes matched their hair.  Tomorrow morning when he woke up with a hangover and we told him all the crazy things he'd said, it would sure be interesting.