Generic Xenophobia

Johnny was five, and his life consisted of mac and cheese and matchbox cars.

Considering his age, he didn't know much, but he knew that sometimes mommy was in a bad mood and things went missing, like Johnny's daddy.

When Johnny asked where daddy had gone his mommy said, "that lying sonuvabitch left me with you, you snot-nosed little brat, and got the hell outta dodge."

Then she spanked Johnny and took his favorite purple matchbox truck.

Johnny was only five, but he was smart enough to know not to talk to mommy too much.

Johnny was fifteen, and his life consisted of pot and not living up to expectations.

He knew his lying sonuvabitch father was long gone, and in his place, fucking Brad had stepped in.

His father had the right idea, getting the hell outta dodge.

His mom knew now that Johnny's matchbox cars were far from beloved; instead, she snagged his meals, his house keys, his money.

Johnny spent his time hanging around the 7/11 with Will and Tunny, blatantly ignoring the sign that clearly read 'no loitering.'

Johnny was only fifteen, but he was a damn good rule-breaker.

Johnny was twenty-five, and his life consisted of dead-end choices and barely-confined insanity.

He was gonna get the hell outta dodge, take the flying leap just like his daddy had twenty years ago.

Brad was just as much of an asshole as ever, and his mom was useless.

Whether Tunny and Will decided to join him or not, there was no question; he couldn't spend another minute in this goddamn town.

Johnny was only twenty-five, but if this didn't work, he wouldn't see twenty-six.

Johnny was thirty, and his life consisted of sex, drugs, and Jimmy.

He'd gotten the hell outta dodge, granted, five years behind his agenda, but hey, the point is to get out, not how fast you do it.

Jimmy was a fucking angel from above, coming down and guiding Johnny through his escape.

Will and Tunny may have grown up in their ways, but Johnny had too. Will had Heather, Tunny had the nurse, and Johnny had Jimmy.

Even Amanda couldn't stand to Jimmy. A fucking saint. Saint Jimmy.

Johnny was only thirty, but Jimmy told him he needed to go out a legend.

Johnny was thirty-one, and his life consisted of pain and self-destruction.

Jimmy had blown himself to bits and was currently accentuating the bay.

Whatsername had left him high and dry.

And Theo and Gerard had gotten the hell outta dodge once Jimmy was gone, leaving Johnny all alone.

So Johnny sold his guitar and bought a one way ticket back to hell.

Johnny was only thirty-one, but he wasn't an idiot.

Johnny was forty, and his life consisted of crappy instant coffee and "hello, Franklin tech support, how may I help you?"s.

His mom was long gone; she had also gotten the hell outta dodge. Brad had bought the tickets.

One way tickets to hell. Didn't cost him a dime.

Johnny, however, had benefited from this. His mom didn't have much to her name, neither did Brad, but it was enough to buy a car and the occasional toy for Will's baby.

There was still a hole where Jimmy had gripped Johnny.

Johnny was only forty, but he knew how to block pain with coffee and cigarettes.

Johnny was eighty, and his life consisted of doctors and drugs.

Not the kind of drugs Jimmy used to give him. Nasty shit, the kind that makes you immediately sluggish and badly numb.

Will, Heather, Tunny, the nurse, his mom, Brad, Whatsername.

Jimmy.

Johnny was eighty, and he knew when Jimmy came, it was time to go.


6/17/13