yorkoa
10-26-2014, 06:08 PM
Austin
04/10/2004
I paced back and forth on the outskirt of the pit, looking for the perfect target. Sweat dripped down my face and people ran into me. I didn’t care about the people running into me, I just wanted to find someone that I could unleash all of my built-up rage on. There was always an intruder; a middle-class, sissy, with gaged ears, black make-up on his face, piercings in his lips, hair dyed black, and bangs that stretched over one eye. They looked disgraceful to me, and they were always easy to spot because they stood out like a sore thumb. We called them scene kids, and they were basically just wannabe tough-guys who just take up space at our shows, and when hardcore music stopped being “trendy” and “cool,” these guys disappeared off the face of the earth. Just by existing, just by showing up at OUR shows, these cocksuckers mock everything I believed in. So, I ignored the band I heard a thousand times before, ignored the kids that ran past me nearly hitting me in the face with their flailing fists, and scavenged the outer rim of the pit, looking for one of these invaders. And shortly, I found a group of them, tightly packed into a corner, laughing and having a good time, mocking and having a good time.
"I ain't you kind of white! I ain't that kind of white! I'll never be your kind of white, I'll never be your kind 'cause you made me outcast!" sang the vocalist. It was the perfect time to run across the pit right into those scene pieces of trash. I stepped back into the crowd and prepared myself. I ran across the pit, jumped, swung my fist over a few people who shielded the scene kids from the pit, and my fist met the tall kid's face. I felt his jewelry dig into the back of my fist.
"What the heck man!" yelled the tall kid. I danced to the other side of the pit, fell back into the crowd, and then danced towards the scene kids again. This time, I did a windmill on the edge of the pit, right next to the scene kid, but he caught my fist and yelled, "What the heck's your problem!" but I didn't let him get another word in. I turned around, drew back my fist, and punched him in the face. I felt the metal go into my knuckles, and the feeling was orgasmic, so I grabbed him by the shirt and punched him again. His three friends saw that he was in trouble, so they tried to break up the fight. They tried to break up the fight by grabbing me by the throat and punching me in the face. This was a big mistake, seeing as how I knew everyone in the room, including the band.
Immediately, people began to pick-up on the scuffle, and seeing how I was outnumbered, they came to my rescue. The music stopped and everyone became more concerned with the fight than the concert. Twenty people, including the guitarist who dropped his guitar mid set, ran over to where the fight was happening. They pulled the scene kids off of me and dragged them outside of the venue. I picked myself up and followed my friends outside. They threw the kids on the street, and I walked up behind them. I stepped out and saw the four kids lying on the street. Myles, Ty, and Steve held each kid down with a dirty boot to the face.
"You don't wanna get hit, don't come to our shows and stand in the back," I preached. I spit out a mouthful of blood onto the tall kids face. His face was already bloody from the couple times I punched him in the face. I noticed how badly my face hurt from when he friends wailed on my face, so I took the flask of whiskey out of my pocket and took a swig. "That's how we dance, and if you don't like it, get out!"
"We were just enjoying the music and you purposely targeted us!" yelled the tall kid. This angered me because they didn’t understand the music. They didn’t understand the struggle that everyone in that room had to deal with every day. They didn’t understand that we lived in a messed up world and our only release from the world was through that music. They just liked the music because it sounded cool, and people thought they were tough because they listened to that kind of music. I always felt like I was doing hardcore music a favor when I made one of these jerks never want to come back to another hardcore show again.
"I don't care you enjoy, I don't care about you, I don't care about your rich, little, suburban dream-life" I stated. "If you like the music then get on your apple computer, go to Itunes, and buy an album with your parent's money you makeup wearing pussies!"
One of them tried to get out from underneath Myles' shoe, but Myles was much bigger than all four of the scene kids put together.
"Eh, let em' go," stated Jimmy, the guitarist. "Let's go back inside, we got a show to finish." When the scene kids were released they got up quickly. We stared at each other, and they saw it was pointless to try to get back into the concert, so they turned around and walked down the street without saying a word.
"Pussies! HAHAHA," I yelled, as I picked up an empty beer bottle. I threw the bottle and it smashed right next to them. It made them jump. We walked back into the venue feeling victorious.
04/10/2004
I paced back and forth on the outskirt of the pit, looking for the perfect target. Sweat dripped down my face and people ran into me. I didn’t care about the people running into me, I just wanted to find someone that I could unleash all of my built-up rage on. There was always an intruder; a middle-class, sissy, with gaged ears, black make-up on his face, piercings in his lips, hair dyed black, and bangs that stretched over one eye. They looked disgraceful to me, and they were always easy to spot because they stood out like a sore thumb. We called them scene kids, and they were basically just wannabe tough-guys who just take up space at our shows, and when hardcore music stopped being “trendy” and “cool,” these guys disappeared off the face of the earth. Just by existing, just by showing up at OUR shows, these cocksuckers mock everything I believed in. So, I ignored the band I heard a thousand times before, ignored the kids that ran past me nearly hitting me in the face with their flailing fists, and scavenged the outer rim of the pit, looking for one of these invaders. And shortly, I found a group of them, tightly packed into a corner, laughing and having a good time, mocking and having a good time.
"I ain't you kind of white! I ain't that kind of white! I'll never be your kind of white, I'll never be your kind 'cause you made me outcast!" sang the vocalist. It was the perfect time to run across the pit right into those scene pieces of trash. I stepped back into the crowd and prepared myself. I ran across the pit, jumped, swung my fist over a few people who shielded the scene kids from the pit, and my fist met the tall kid's face. I felt his jewelry dig into the back of my fist.
"What the heck man!" yelled the tall kid. I danced to the other side of the pit, fell back into the crowd, and then danced towards the scene kids again. This time, I did a windmill on the edge of the pit, right next to the scene kid, but he caught my fist and yelled, "What the heck's your problem!" but I didn't let him get another word in. I turned around, drew back my fist, and punched him in the face. I felt the metal go into my knuckles, and the feeling was orgasmic, so I grabbed him by the shirt and punched him again. His three friends saw that he was in trouble, so they tried to break up the fight. They tried to break up the fight by grabbing me by the throat and punching me in the face. This was a big mistake, seeing as how I knew everyone in the room, including the band.
Immediately, people began to pick-up on the scuffle, and seeing how I was outnumbered, they came to my rescue. The music stopped and everyone became more concerned with the fight than the concert. Twenty people, including the guitarist who dropped his guitar mid set, ran over to where the fight was happening. They pulled the scene kids off of me and dragged them outside of the venue. I picked myself up and followed my friends outside. They threw the kids on the street, and I walked up behind them. I stepped out and saw the four kids lying on the street. Myles, Ty, and Steve held each kid down with a dirty boot to the face.
"You don't wanna get hit, don't come to our shows and stand in the back," I preached. I spit out a mouthful of blood onto the tall kids face. His face was already bloody from the couple times I punched him in the face. I noticed how badly my face hurt from when he friends wailed on my face, so I took the flask of whiskey out of my pocket and took a swig. "That's how we dance, and if you don't like it, get out!"
"We were just enjoying the music and you purposely targeted us!" yelled the tall kid. This angered me because they didn’t understand the music. They didn’t understand the struggle that everyone in that room had to deal with every day. They didn’t understand that we lived in a messed up world and our only release from the world was through that music. They just liked the music because it sounded cool, and people thought they were tough because they listened to that kind of music. I always felt like I was doing hardcore music a favor when I made one of these jerks never want to come back to another hardcore show again.
"I don't care you enjoy, I don't care about you, I don't care about your rich, little, suburban dream-life" I stated. "If you like the music then get on your apple computer, go to Itunes, and buy an album with your parent's money you makeup wearing pussies!"
One of them tried to get out from underneath Myles' shoe, but Myles was much bigger than all four of the scene kids put together.
"Eh, let em' go," stated Jimmy, the guitarist. "Let's go back inside, we got a show to finish." When the scene kids were released they got up quickly. We stared at each other, and they saw it was pointless to try to get back into the concert, so they turned around and walked down the street without saying a word.
"Pussies! HAHAHA," I yelled, as I picked up an empty beer bottle. I threw the bottle and it smashed right next to them. It made them jump. We walked back into the venue feeling victorious.