Transform
Track 1 “The stars seem farther away tonight.” “It’s just the Earth’s orbit or something.” “Do you think we’ll ever really colonize space?” “Probably.” “I don’t think so. Even with all the money that’s being poured into the space program, it seems like a waste of time. There’s still a lot of crap going on down here.” That’s Tony, always focusing on the bigger picture. He always has to be fighting for some cause about the rainforest or something about ecosystems. Lord knows what kind of issues that kid has. Probably less than me though. I never really understood what happened to me. I had always been an average kid; I never got into serious trouble, mostly cuz I never took any risks; no drugs, no alcohol, (although now I’ve started to consider trying them.) and I had my hair neatly combed to the side. I looked like I was raised in the 50’s. My closet was filled with IZOD shirts, GAP khakis, and various sweatshirts knitted by aunts and grandmothers. I had my suit that I wore to my holy communion until about a year ago until my parents finally donated it. Now I’ve got dyed blonde hair that spikes straight up, my wardrobe is now all clothes that I manually sowed and stitched up from all the scraps I cut off from clothes I bought from the thrift store. Every time my parents come home with a new shirt they thought I “would look cute in”, I take it and three months later, it’s part of a new pair of pants. I even take orders from my friends for special clothing, all for just the cost of stitching and sowing. It’s my senior year of high school and I’ve already been accepted to a number of schools. I’ll be the first one in my family to go to a college that wasn’t Ivy League. They always set the bar so high, and you can’t win them all. My parents have always been caring, always provided for me and gave me the best possible, and that’s probably why I turned out this way. I swear I was an indentured servant in a past life. I wish I had been born into a poor family, so maybe I could actually have some feeling for once in my life. Track 2 I was always a little different from other children. Not in a bad way, just every thing I did was different in some way. In first grade, (I’m told because I can’t remember anything beyond second grade) my teachers were concerned because I would never pay attention in class. When my teacher asked me what I was doing, I was always working a couple chapters ahead. I was at a 4th grade level in reading and was placed in the third grade for math class. Fortunately, time finally caught up to me and I fell in place with kids my age. But even then I argued with teachers about how to do their work. Most of the time I spent trying to teach my classmates the simpler way to solve problems, but these “stunts” as the nuns called it ended up with a ruler to the back of the head or a recess detention. It was worth it, since I could never play those ridiculous recess games, like stickball or soccer. God I hate soccer. My older brother tried to teach me once, I think, but he gave up in about a week when I couldn’t kick the ball straight, ever. My parents were fine with me not being able to play sports, because they encouraged my real hobby, stargazing. At least that’s what I told them it was. My dad built me a ladder I could climb out onto and get to the roof with, where a little telescope and a map of stars that was always waiting to be used. I always just liked being up on the roof by myself, watching the rest of the neighborhood fall asleep at the same time, every night. Now as I sit up here and talk to myself, I can’t believe how childish I was. To believe that life was so straightforward and planned out so that we fall asleep at the same time every night, that was just stupid. Completely stupid. Track 3 “So that’s it? That’s all you’ve got?” “I have to do it Tony. There’s no other way about it. It has to be done.” “Let me just tell you that you are the craziest friggin kid in this town. Later.” Tony slid down the ladder and I could hear him saying bye to my parents as they urged him to take a slice of pie home for his folks. I know there’s something that I’m missing, there’s something out there in this world that they don’t teach to you about in school, something that isn’t advertised on television. I don’t know what it is, but every time I sit up on the roof all lone like this, I get the feeling. It’s pretty faint, but something swells up inside of me and tells me that there’s more of it out there. What it is, it doesn’t fit in with the way my parents or my older brother have lived their lives, or any of the other families that live on my block, in my city, perhaps even on Earth. Living this way is such a tragedy. Track 4 I saw the door fly open as my father walked in through the door, he turned to the coat rack and started taking off his trench coat. I took off for the door. My mother watched as I knocked over the plastic pot and plastic plant that was sitting on the end table by the closet. Before she could scream out my name, I was already past my father, who had a look of bewilderment on his face. My mother threw down the lasagna and told my little sister to watch the rolls. I got into the street faster than I had ever gone before. 2 cars past right by me, one guy trying to swerve around the Cadillac going 20 in front of him. I took off in the opposite direction with nothing but a backpack and the clothes on my back. I was past the Jenkins’ place when I first heard my mother scream my name. I knew it was gonna be five minutes before she told my father to start the car and go get me. I took a new route this time. This time I was serious. At Crenshaw and Hatfield I made a left, and picked up my speed. It wasn’t even 3 minutes to Tony’s House. “He better be waiting for me.” I rushed past the Vello’s house, and I saw them sitting down to dinner at the same time they always had dinner. Christian Vello was the most disciplined kid you’d ever meet. Rumor has it his parents were in the military and built a ropes course in his basement when he was 5. I didn’t stop to take even a short peek, I had to keep moving. Adrenaline was taking over and it felt good. I reached Tony’s House and he was there with his arms resting on his knees looking like he was the cool one who was getting out of this town. “Keys!” Tony threw the keys underhanded perfectly on time, I grabbed them just as I jumped onto the bike, started the engine in a second flat, threw the bike into reverse and backed out of the drive. Without saying goodbye, I was off. The pile of money landed at Tony’s feet when I was 100 feet away. I’m sure he said “thanks” but I couldn’t hear him from here. “Life begins at 90 miles per hour.” Track 5 I grabbed a “free” Star Map Tour pamphlet from the guy on the corner and looked at the numerous celebrities that the map listed. None of them really impressed me. They’re the same people that you see everyday on those programs like Access Hollywood and Entertainment Tonight, the shows you watch if you need to know how much money so-and-so is spending on an engagement ring for a wedding that will last as long as Gigli did in the theaters. And their names were on the list too. I did manage to see a couple of celebrities, but mainly by accident. I saw the lead singer of some “punk” band that was getting tons of airtime for one song about how he’s gonna kill himself if his life gets any worse. He was driving a brand new Hummer. I saw him as he pulled into his Hollywood estate and park it right next to his silver Mercedes Benz and a number of other expensive looking cars. The man looked like he had walked onto the set of a James Bond movie and stolen Bond’s automobiles. I’m glad I never bought his CD. Apparently some singer-actress person was shopping a few stores down from me, cuz the store and its security guards all left to go see. I didn’t follow, instead I stole this guy’s pen. It was the only thing interesting in the store. As I walked out, this singer-actress’s limo pulled by and you could tell through the tint that it was some blonde bimbo. The guy clinging to the back of the car screaming “I love you!” was also a pretty good giveaway. Track 6 I spent my time looking around town, looking for where the rest of the bums lived and “worked”. It was time I finally live out my dream. I was gonna become the richest American, without ever having a job. If I could get my food from the scraps they throw out at those patio diners, and use the restrooms at Venice beach, then I was in business. I wouldn’t need money for anything else, I could just collect people’s loose change for years and years, until I would have enough money to afford anything I wanted. There are so many reasons to do nothing. First of all, no stress from crappy working conditions, which also means no responsibilities, no goddamn paperwork ever, and especially no asshole boss. Track 7 “Kid, you’re never gonna make it in L.A. like that, come with me, I’m gonna help you out.” This was Guide, the man who knew everything about L.A., or so he said. He looked like he was in his 40’s, but really was only 28. He says that trying to keep up with all the fashion trends throughout his college days messed him up big time. That and his drinking problem. He looked like an average overweight American: fat head, small man-tits, and a belly supported by his belt. I think he was sucking it in too. He might have lied about himself, his weight, probably his age too, but when he said he knew everything about Los Angeles, he wasn’t kidding. Stores, residences, restaurants, anything you needed to find, he was the 4-1-1. “Son, I've seen many kids your age and younger move out to L.A. looking to start a new life. Most of them however, simply fall into drug addiction and wind up going back home within a week after the cops find them overdosed on Robitussin. I’ve helped many young teens find their ways in this city and help them build a life they can be proud of. So what is it you want out of this city?” “I want to be free.” “Free of what?” “I donno, just…free.” “Don’t try to fool me kid, you know what you want.” I stood there in silence as he looked at me. “I can tell by your clothes that you were or are a rebel. This obviously stems from being a member of a loving family or perhaps, a terrible family. Either way, you reject the materialism that has spread over this country like a disease. Why you moved to L.A. was because you’re also looking for something new, something mysterious. Are we warm?” I nodded. “Well fortunately, I think I can help you. Now you have to understand that L.A. is the most amazing place on Earth. Nothing stays the same here, including your name. I want you to listen to this.” He took a pair of headphones out from his desk and placed them over my ears. I just sat there as he performed some ritualistic fashion and he presented a single CD case. He removed the CD from the case and popped it into the player. “Now before we begin, you must remember, never take the headphones off. Never.” I nodded, and then he turned back to the machine and pressed a few buttons. “See you in the morning.” He said as he pressed play. The sound hit my ears like nothing else and before I had a chance to react I was knocked out lying on the floor. Track 8 I woke up in a room covered with posters from miscellaneous tours, groups and album covers. Rage Against The Machine memorabilia was hung up everywhere and a guitar signed by the members of Jane's Addiction was displayed in a glass box, with its own set of lights shining on it. The bed itself was nothing more than a mattress with a ninja turtles comforter and a white and yellow pillow(most of it was yellow, but there was still some white spots left on it.). I went to stretch my arms for that early morning stretch, and saw a crazy black thing with a red stripe running down the side of it in my peripheral vision. My eyes turned towards the side and saw the red stripe running from my arm up to my shoulder. I stood up and looked into the mirror to confirm it. But when I looked, it was not the first thing that caught my eye. My hair was as black as the night itself, and it hung from my head almost down to my shoulders. "Do you like it?" Guide asked as he quickly stepped into the room, as if it were a birthday surprise. "When did this happen?" "I had Sherry come in a couple days ago and fix you up." "A couple days ago? How long have I been out for!?" "Let's see, you came here on the fourteenth, so that would make it, ummm, 2 plus.....oh 5 months and 6 days." I wasn't sure what to think. I looked at him, looking for a smile or something to tell if he was just joking around. But there was nothing. He's either a good liar, or he was dead serious. "The clothes are yours too. There's more in that plastic bag over there. Don't worry it's all free, just don't try to sell it back to any stores." I opened up the plastic bag he pointed to and looked at what he "bought" me. The clothes were everything I've ever wanted. Shirts with metal zippers running from the waist to the neck, pants that had patches of jean running around the pant leg, and even black button down shirts. "Thanks man. This stuff is awesome." "Guide! Guide!" A young lady ran up to him. "She's back." Guide walked out of my room with her. I walked around and stretched myself out, admiring my new look. My parents would kill me if they saw me like this; that's if they didn't have a heart attack the second they saw me. I heard the sounds of screaming and commotion, and went out to find out what it was. Guide was yelling at this woman in a business suit who was holding a briefcase on the counter. "Look Mr. Givner, we have made you very nice offers, we have tried to compromise, but I'm afraid that if you don't come up with the money by the end of the month, we're gonna have no choice but to kick you out." "You can't just do that. I've owned this shop for over ten years. You can't just buy it out from underneath me and turn it into some friggin coffee bar!" "It's a free country Mr. Givner, we can do whatever we like." "Why do you want to get rid of Guide?" I interjected for some reason. I didn't even think of the words. "Mr. Givner's store here is in an area of the city that we have not dipped into yet. We feel that having another store of our own here would increase profits and allow for expansion deeper into the heart of the city." "Increase profits? Don't you people make enough damn money? Do you really need to be driving hard working people out of business, simply so you can pocket a few extra dollars?" "Listen son, you don't understand how the business world works..." "Well I can tell what's going on here! You said it yourself. Taking Guide's store here will allow you to further your franchise into the city. After you buy out Guide here, you'll just look for another hard working man to crush and buy out." "Excuse me, but we have no intention of driving Mr. Givner out of business, simply relocating him to ano..." "Why do you need more money anyway? Is that your car out there, the nice shiny Porsche? You think that money is the way to happiness, the way to get to the top of the world? How brainwashed are you that you think that?" I had no idea why I just said that. I'm not even concentration on the words coming out of my mouth. I'm looking off around the store, looking at all the posters and records for sale. I see he's got a sale on Bob Marley, which is pretty nice. Maybe I could buy a copy from him. The lady packed up her belongings and left. "This is not the last time you will see me, I promise you." She walked out the door and hopped into her car and sped away, turning right and heading for her home out in the hills. Guide and the young lady just stared at me. I looked at them for a brief second, then turned and went back to my room. Track 9 I'd like to interject for a moment if I could. I'd just like to say that this story isn't about anything at all really. It was a really fun project to work on, and I wrote most of it in about one night. I mean, this could have been about alot of things, but it's not. But I don't think you should look for meaning in it. I mean, the world moves, and it doesn’t ask "why?". Track 10 A week later, sure enough, the lady did come back, this time with a couple more people. She came with a couple police officers and someone that looked like a lawyer. There was also another guy walking behind I thought I recognized, but I couldn't put my finger on it. As they walked towards the door, I called for Guide, who came out of the back room in an Evil Empire shirt and ripped jeans. We stood behind the counter together, even though I had never spent a minute helping Guide run the store or even help him organize things. We watched as they entered, single file, into Guide's store and line themselves up at the counter, the lawyer and the woman in front, the guy I recognized to the side, and the police waiting by the door. "What can I get you guys today? Perhaps some Public Enemy? Maybe some Dead Kennedys? How about some Eminem for your kids at home?" Guide said, looking for a reaction from any one of them. "Sir, we are here to notify you that you have 48 hours to vacate the property. If by this time, you have not vacated, you will be arrested and most likely spend some time in prison. If you do not agree to these terms at this juncture, these officers will arrest you presently." "Do you know what that means?" I asked Guide "I don't know. I don't speak asshole." "It means your asses better get the hell out of here!" said the guy I recognized, and the voice gave it away. It was Nick from high school. He was a senior when I was a freshman, one of the richest kids in his class. His dad had probably set him up with this job. We used to hang out together, simply because he was assigned to whip me into shape, in order to make me a "better" student. But I was in his circle of friends for that entire year. I used to think he was an alright kid, I didn't think he would turn into this. "Nick, man, you still got that tattoo with 'Jenny' on it?" I pulled back my hair so he could see my face, and know who I was. He didn't say anything. No 'hi. how ya doing?', but I guess that makes sense since he was here to shut us down. "Do you agree to these terms, Mr. Givner?, or are we going to have to have these men escort you?" the lady said. The police officers immediately stood up and walked over, as if that was their cue. "Well, I guess there's nothing left to say but...I fought the law, and the law won." Guide stuck out his arms and asked for the handcuffs. The woman gave the head nod, and the police handcuffed Guide and led him out to the cruiser. They pulled away slowly, and Guide held up two thumbs up, as if it was the greatest thing he'd ever done. "Now as for you. You are to leave her immediately as well." "What, you're not going to arrest me?" "We thought you would have more sense than that." said the lawyer. "Listen" said Nick, "stop all this crap. Go back home and finish high school. Get a good job just like I did. You've got your whole life ahead of you, don't blow it in this city." "Nick, fuck you and your Armani suit." I saw Nick's hand start to move. I saw every second of his movement. I knew I was going to get punched before his hand left his side. I looked to my side, to make sure there was nothing sharp I was gonna land on. I went down pretty hard, and slowly made it to my feet. Nick was still standing there, and the woman and the lawyer were both talking outside. "What you're doing is nothing new, it's just a worn-out stereotype. You’re evil rebel tortured soul has been rejected, now walk the line and act exactly as expected." Nick left with his head held high. I touched my lip. No blood. Track 11 I found a place just down the block. It was an abandoned house, probably a previous crack house. But whatever it was, it still had some heating and enough sunlight through the semi-boarded up windows. I kept thinking about what Nick had said to me about going back to high school, and that I should quit being such a rebel. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was just confused about what I was hearing, and I made too many assumptions. Hell no. I know more than that dumbass. I know more than that idiot. To give up now and to listen to what he's saying is simply conformity. I will not sellout to what everyone else thinks I should do with my life. They want to change everything about me, to make me fit, and stop being so strange. Well I'll tell you what; I've made up my mind, and I'm staying. Track 12 I spotted a sweet little firebird at the end of the block. Red, leather interior, it looks like its automatic, and pretty nice wheels, almost no wear on them at all. No alarm system on it apparently. This is gonna be pretty damn easy. I slipped into the car in a second flat. Stupid fool left his driver side door unlocked. Immediately found the right wires, and just like gone in sixty seconds, I was, well, gone. I just felt like having some excitement. I didn't really wanna go somewhere, just get out and feel the wind as it rushed through my hair and blew against my face. I looked for the radio dial, and flipped it to the local rock station. They were playing some great new music that I had heard in Guide's store. I can't remember their name, but their style is so outrageous, and of course, it's only good to listen to it loud. I twist the volume knob until it can't go any further and pray this guy's system can handle it. Well it's just this time, that the cops pull out of a side street right behind me. I slow down and lower the volume. I hope they don't turn on their sirens. That's the last thing I need. Oh crap, they did. Shit, I'm screwed. I floor it and make the first turn I can. I park the car right up against the curb, just incase I need to hop out and make a getaway on foot. But the police car just keeps moving along the same street and goes right past me. Close one there. I go to throw the car into drive, but my hand slips and it goes into reverse. The back end of the car goes into the intersection and gets nailed by another car. My first instinct is to get away, but before I can reach the door, a gun is right in my face. There's less than an inch of space between brain and the barrel of a 9mm. There are a bunch of other men standing at my car door, waiting to kill me. The one with the gun to my head says, "License and registration, sir." I'm not sure if it's just a dumb joke or if this guy's a cop or what. But I know that I am royally screwed. My best bet is to just take the bullet. But another crazy idea keeps trying to force its way into my brain, and eventually it does. I turn around and grab the gun right out of his hand and point it right at his balls. "Throw your weapons to the curb!" "Do it motherfuckers! Crazy bastards got the gun right next to junk!" They all throw their guns to the curb. I push the man aside and get back in the car. Without a second to lose, I throw it into park and slam on the gas. All the men have grabbed their guns again and are shooting at me. I can feel death just watching this waiting for me to die. A quick turn, and the bullets stop. I know they're coming for me. I spot a sign for the highway and immediately get over three lanes of traffic to get on it. I don't know which way it's going, just as long as it gets me there. Track 13 I'm cruising along the highway at 65 miles per hour. Cars are passing me going about 95 or more. I spot the sign for the exit towards my hometown. 15 miles. I'll be there in a couple of minutes. After that, there's no turning back, I guess. What would do they do? Would they actually take me back? More importantly, would I wanna be back? No, probably not. I think about everything that I've ever done in my life, and thought about what I've enjoyed most, and what I'd rather be doing. 10 miles now. Maybe there's a place that I can go that I haven't seen before. Maybe I can start a new life somewhere else. Past where I used to live. But still I think, what was wrong with where I used to live? I could go home, or I could go someplace new. I can't decide. 6 miles now. I make a quick right and get into the exit lane. My mind is racing, my heart and conscience are laughing, and everything seems to be pointing in one direction that I can't see. Until now. My head feels clear, everything is as it should be. I got off at the exit. I make a quick left. And then another quick left; I'm back on the highway, heading back to L.A. That's where I belong, that's where I was meant to be, so that's where I'm going. I flip on the radio to listen to anything good, maybe some driving music. I find a great rock station and leave it. "Ok here's the latest from Powerman 5000, it's called, The Shape of Things To Come. Hear it only on WKDS." I turn up the volume and just let loose. I sing the words that I've never heard before. "Don't turn your back and walk away... Don't turn your back and walk away... Don't turn your back and walk away It will lead you straight back to your yesterday Don't let it end without you... Don't let it be that way. Don't let it end without you... Don't let it be that way."
Copyright © 2004 Reid Bryansmith |