Mass exodus, time to get off the bus. pt.II

“Pass it over here Frank!” Yelled the smaller one, he always seemed much angrier than bigger one.

“Right away Terry, sorry Terry.” The bigger one always does as he’s told though…do this, break that, hurt him etcetera..etcetera. Ever obedient, ever diligent this one was.

Frank and Terry were bikers but not necessarily outlaw bikers. Far from it. They were constantly trying to expand themselves through various substances…beer, marijuana, whiskey and a multitude of multicolored pills that seemed to either give them unbelievable energy or slam them down for hours at a time. These things were band aids on their spiritual soul, it was close to bursting but still needed the lightning to strike.

They first gained acceptance after a huge bar fight broke out at the “Titty Twister” The trouble started when one huge beast of a man named Barry decided it was a great time to take a piss, right there in Terry’s freshly poured whisky. Most people would have walked away slowly, trying not to poke the bear. Hoping Barry wouldn’t take this grotesque gesture any furthur. But Terry’s first instinct was far from diplomatic and he acted on it without hesitation. Terry, very nonchalantly, turned around and appropriated the nearest pool cue. Without a word terry unleashed a vicious blow to Barry’s skull. Barry dropped hard and fast to the floor.The air was suddenly filled with flying fists and beer bottles, impossible to go two feet without something colliding with either your face, mid section or legs. No way anyone was leaving here without a scar but somehow Terry managed to escape generally unscathed. Only minor bruises and a few scratches across his left cheek from a near miss with a broken bottle 

Boredom was taking over this scene and fast. Neither of these two could sit still for more than a minute, there was an unmistakable restlessness in the air. Not only in this general vicinity but in the entire city..probably reaching even furthur but I have no way of gauging.

“We gotta go for a run man!” Skwawked the small one.
“You got any gas money man?” Quipped the larger one.

And so it went on for hours. The silence only broken up by the occasional “ccrrrrkkkk” of a lighter sparking to life to lit a cigarette or a joint or an unlucky roach who happened crawl by Terry’s line of sight.

Suddenly something in the news caught Terry’s attention…”The Merry Pranksters welcome the Hell’s Angels!”

From this exact moment forward nothing would be the same for Frank or Terry ever again…

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