{"id":639,"date":"2011-07-20T12:14:06","date_gmt":"2011-07-20T20:14:06","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/onelife\/?p=639"},"modified":"2011-07-20T12:14:06","modified_gmt":"2011-07-20T20:14:06","slug":"bad-girls-flip-the-the-bird-at-grease-balls","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/?p=639","title":{"rendered":"Bad girls flip the the bird at grease balls"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

And Jesus loves them. I haven\u2019t been blogging. I haven\u2019t been journaling. I’m pissed off. I have been sick. Sick and tired, of the rain and cold. It\u2019s going to be one of those non-summers we British Columbians suffer now and then. Fuck it. I\u2019m turning this year around. 2011 is the year\u00a0 I complete my novel. Despite everything. Everyone. I have been caught up in the daunting task of cutting and revising, 150 pages slashed; didn’t think I could do it, so glad I did. When that’s complete I’ll restructure if need be. Here’s a segment of The Town Slut’s Daughter<\/em>, partially set in Vancouver’s punk rock scene. You’ll have to excuse the wacky formatting, WordPress sucks. I’m afraid there’s no excuse for lapsed Catholic protagonist Fiona Larouchelle. She is not a nice girl.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook who\u2019s on TV!\u201d Rita pointed to Joey Shithead on The Vancouver Show with Pia Shandel.
\n\u201cHa!\u201d hooted Fiona. \u201cShe looks like a Pia Shandel.\u201d
\nJoey handled bubbly Pia with aplomb. Fiona threw down three tickets to the St. Valentine\u2019s Day Massacre emblazoned with Hit Someone You Love.
\n\u201cGreat!\u201d said Rita. \u201cWhat\u2019s with all the misogyny? I thought the scene was so equalitarian.\u201d Rita grabbed the kettle, turned on the tap. \u201cWell, I suppose it is if you happen to be young, white and male.\u201d
\n\u201cMaybe we shouldn\u2019t go.\u201d
\n\u201cMaybe we shouldn\u2019t. Who is Transformer Productions, anyway?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know. Never heard of them. But it\u2019s a great bill! Rabid, Pointed Sticks, SubHumans, K-Tels.\u201d Angus was a hero for digging up a new venue, O\u2019Hara\u2019s, a derelict nightclub on the pier at the foot of Main. Her father remembered it from when he was a young buck roaming the streets. \u201cI wanna go. We gotta see the K-Tels.\u201d
\n\u201cOkay. We\u2019re doing our bit to fight sexism, right? We play electric guitars!\u201d<\/p>\n

The next night Fiona, Shannon and Rita drove down to the show, a near riot on by the time they arrived.
\nBAM!\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 THUD!\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 WHAM!
\n\u201cHey,\u201d said Fiona, \u201cit\u2019s like Batman.\u201d
\nEntering cautiously, they noticed a riser to their right and looked up into the scowling faces of thirty or so longhaired bikers and fat, bearded yahoos greeting them with upraised chairs and benches. A table whizzed past their heads, crashing against the wall, but when the girls advanced, like a sea parting, the bikers moved aside to let them pass.
\n\u201cI guess we don\u2019t pose a threat,\u201d said Fiona, \u201cor maybe they\u2019re sparing the girls.\u201d
\nShannon laughed. \u201cAs if they have policy.\u201d
\nThey found the K-Tels soldiering through Automan, bassist Jim Bescott and green-haired Art so on the beam, they deftly dodged an assortment of projectiles. Fuming, Rita sidled up to a big greaser just as he was about to launch a Labatt\u2019s can and grabbed him by the arm.
\n\u201cHey asshole! Those are my friends.\u201d
\nHe nearly choked on his tongue. Rita stood guard until the frustrated hit man left.
\nLike hyenas tracking a herd of wildebeest, their tormenters plucked the youngest, sickest, stupidest kids from the crowd, methodically pummeling all attitude out of them. The Bowery Boys were on rodeo clown duty, goading the creeps, pulling them off their friends, getting in a few punches of their own.
\n\u201cThis is nuts!\u201d shouted Fiona. She waved at Oona and Spooner across the room. They dashed over. \u201cAre you okay?\u201d
\n\u201cYeah,\u201d sputtered Oona. \u201cWhat the fuck is going on?\u201d
\n\u201cI dunno, it\u2019s bizarre,\u201d said Spooner, glancing nervously about the room, \u201cevery biker and grease-ball in the Lower Mainland must be here. I heard they\u2019re even coming up from Bellingham.\u201d
\nIs a mob the sum of its parts? Fiona could see no eye contact, with each other or their prey. No motive, no reason. No head. No heart.
\nShannon surveyed the pandemonium. \u201cWell, if this is Valentine\u2019s Day, it must be hell.\u201d
\n\u201cWhere\u2019s security?\u201d
\n\u201cMaybe this is security,\u201d Rita said grimly. \u201cI\u2019m having visions of Altamont.\u201d
\nThey exited at the first opportunity. Fiona saw Dennis wrestling a particularly nasty biker. She beckoned, afraid for him, but Dennis waved, calmly ducking a punch, then springing up like a jack-in-the-box\u2014*POW*\u2014to neatly plow several teeth down the guy\u2019s throat. Blubbering blood, the biker plopped down onto a spindly, wooden chair. Dennis smiled and pushed it over with his foot. Pointing and laughing at the biker like a beetle on its back, legs and feet paddling the air, Dennis ran over to Fiona.
\nArms linked, Fiona, Dennis, Shannon, Rita, Oona, Spooner and Simon marched out. They encountered more thugs leaning against the railings, hooting, howling, grunting.
\n\u201cOohhh baby. Nice tits. Nice ass!\u201d
\n\u201cHey little girl, come on over here and suck my cock!\u201d The biggest, Judas Priest t-shirt clad, grabbed his crotch. \u201cCome on, ditch those faggots. You need a real man.\u201d
\nFiona turned and flipped the bird. \u201cGo fuck yourself.\u201d
\nThe pier trembling, that was the next thing that registered, then feet running, bikers on top of them within a matter of seconds. Spooner was thrown to the ground first\u2014all 135 pounds\u2014punched and kicked while in the fetal position. Desperately holding onto his head, they kicked him in the ribs. Spooner lowered his arms, they kicked him in the skull. One of the bikers grabbed Rita by the elbow and spun her around.
\n\u201cIt\u2019s a girl!\u201d
\nHe turned and punched Simon in the face instead. Fiona jumped on his back, yarding on his greasy hair, vainly attempting to pull his colossal bulk down. He flicked her off like a bug. Rita pounced. He swung round and pinned her arms behind her back. Rita whacked him in the shins with her boot heel. Cursing, he tossed her to the ground. Simon was down too, legs thrashing against a beating, Dennis trying to get to him but up to his eyeballs in fisticuffs with another grease ball.
\n\u201cLeave them alone!\u201d screamed Fiona. Shannon screamed, Oona screamed, they all screamed. Jesus H. Christ, where are the fucking police when you need them?
\n\u201cGet off him, you prick!\u201d Rita managed to pull one of them off Spooner though not for long.
\nThe bikers snorted and laughed and continued their gleeful pounding. Sirens! At last, though the bikers were thorough, refusing to stop until the patrol cars\u2019 red and blue lights were flashing across their faces. They scattered, bodies splayed the length of the boardwalk, including an unconscious Spooner. Dennis hauled a bruised-but-okay Simon up off the ground. Oona ran over, crumpling at the sight of Spooner spread-eagled. Shannon crossed herself, Fiona following suit. Christ! Don\u2019t let him be dead. Dennis and Simon ran to search for a paramedic, girls hovering as Rita checked Spooner\u2019s pulse.
\n\u201cHe\u2019s breathing.\u201d
\nThank God! Rita loosened his collar and positioned his head so the blood drained out of his mouth.
\n\u201cSpooner. Spooner,\u201d whispered Oona, like Wendy to Peter Pan.
\n\u201cMaybe we should take him to the hospital ourselves,\u201d said Shannon.
\nRita didn\u2019t want to move him. \u201cHe might be bleeding internally.\u201d
\nIt felt like forever but help finally arrived. There were many casualties, more chaos ensuing as they prepared to move Spooner\u2019s sad sack of bones. He was attended to with oxygen and seemingly revived by sleight of hand. He blinked, came to hearing friends screaming his silly name, promptly placed on a gurney, Oona permitted to ride in the ambulance with him.
\nFiona slapped Dennis on the back. \u201cHey, Grasshopper.\u201d She mimed punching, kicking. \u201cMartial arts training?\u201d
\n\u201cA little karate.\u201d
\n\u201cBlack belt?\u201d
\n\u201cNah. My parents just wanted to prepare me, that\u2019s all.\u201d
\n\u201cThey did a good job. You\u2019re still slumming though.\u201d
\n\u201cSo are you.\u201d
\n\u201cUh uh. I\u2019m going sideways. You\u2019re lowering yourself.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy? Because I can defend myself?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause your folks want to pay for stuff like that. Because they\u2019re even aware of it.\u201d
\nDennis shrugged as if to spit out his silver spoon.<\/p>\n

Fiona sopped up the last of her oyster stew with a fist full of sourdough bread, wishing the rain would let up, the Only Seafood Cafe about as cozy as a bus station. It reminded her of all the greasy spoons her mother worked in. Still, she enjoyed hiding out in the tall, wooden booths painted a putrid shade of green\u2014sea green\u2014watching the regulars captain the wobbly stools. Besides, the food was cheap.
\n\u201cHey, what\u2019s a girl like you doing in a nice place like this?\u201d
\n\u201cOh. Hi Simon. Sit.\u201d He was not alone. Oona and Mad Dog popped out from behind his coat. \u201cSurprise!\u201d
\nThey ordered Cokes, rehashed the previous night\u2019s attack of the killer beer-bellies.
\n\u201cThey managed to put dents into just about everybody!\u201d Oona\u2019s eyes were an even deeper blue framed by wet, ox-blood curls.
\nFiona grabbed the saltshaker before Mad Dog could loosen the lid. \u201cWell, I bet Angus changes his attitude after seeing his friends get the snot beat out of them.\u201d
\nSimon threw a match into a tank crawling with crabs, then started in haranguing the hapless and tatty old men sitting at the counter. Fiona got up to leave, holding onto her jiggling tummy.
\n\u201cI\u2019m outta here before you manage to get us kicked out of another dive. Come on, Oona, let\u2019s go.\u201d
\nSimon and Mad Dog trained their puppy dog eyes on Oona. She slammed down the last of her cola. \u201cOkay, let\u2019s go.\u201d The boys groaned.
\nFiona popped open her umbrella, put her arm through Oona\u2019s and invited her in and under. The girls strolled down Hastings, stopped at the corner.
\n\u201cWhat do you want to do now?\u201d asked Oona.
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know, but I\u2019m freezing and my mascara\u2019s running. Let\u2019s go somewhere.\u201d
\n\u201cHey, I know! Let\u2019s pool our money and get a mickey for Spooner.\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know if that\u2019s such a good idea.\u201d
\n\u201cFor medicinal purposes.\u201d
\n\u201cHe\u2019ll probably get plastered. He doesn\u2019t drink much, you know.\u201d
\nDennis had blamed the incident on Fiona and her big mouth. Fast and loose with the middle finger too, she felt bad.
\n\u201cThose guys wanted to kill us!\u201d said Oona. \u201cThey would have come after us no matter what.\u201d
\nThey found Spooner limp and pasty as a noodle, girls gasping at the sight of his twin shiners. He waved them in, puffy lips curling into a crooked smile.
\n\u201cI am so sorry Spooner!\u201d
\n\u201cForget it. No use crying over spilled blood,\u201d he said, propping his pulp-face up with a pillow. Oona pulled the bottle out of a paper bag.
\n\u201cThank you!\u201d he squeaked.
\nFiona handed him a straw. Spooner winced and sucked on the scotch hard and fast. He grimaced, pouring some of the whiskey into a saucer on the floor, to share with Walter his pet pigeon. The bird bent over and much to their delight, actually imbibed.
\n\u201cHey, Walter\u2019s a real party animal!\u201d said Fiona.
\nWalter cooed and squawked for a little while before toppling over. They howled with laughter, Spooner rolling back onto the bed, holding onto himself.
\n\u201cOne more drink and Walter will be under the host!\u201d said Fiona.
\n\u201cDon\u2019t make me laugh!\u201d groaned Spooner, cradling his ribs. \u201cIt hurts!\u201d
\nSpooner was feeling no pain by the time they left, though Fiona was, acutely afflicted with regret.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

And Jesus loves them. I haven\u2019t been blogging. I haven\u2019t been journaling. I’m pissed off. I have been sick. Sick and tired, of the rain and cold. It\u2019s going to be one of those non-summers we British Columbians suffer now and then. Fuck it. I\u2019m turning this year around. 2011 is the year\u00a0 I complete […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[10],"tags":[149,210,246,321,342],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/639"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=639"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/639\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=639"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=639"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/heatherhaley.com\/hh2\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=639"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}