BOOT BOYS Copyright 2004 By Keith Scott http://www.myspace.com/finalassassin finalassassin73@hotmail.com   CHAPTER 1: THE BOYS The boys and I started out on the highway, wide eyed and practically foaming at the mouth, at about 6:30 in the evening.  It had been a while since we were all together to take part in another night out on the town but we fell into the routine with ease.  As always, we took off in my 1978 Trans Am with T-tops heading, naturally, for the Bar.  I was driving, riding shotgun was Tommy, Mack and Skinny was both squeezed in the back seat.  It was a familiar operation, the goal: setting up camp at our regular speakeasy.   We attended the bar frequently and lay claim to it several years prior, at the conclusion of a particularly bloody battle, none of it ours of course.  On occasion there would be some newcomers to the joint that would cross the line and end up in the unfavorable position of being at the hands of our mercy.  We all had our own way of dealing with these situations, and we were usually creative with our methods. As we were riding down the road towards the bar, the vibe in the car was particularly energetic and cheery, a calm feeling that everything was going to be all right coupled with the uneasy anticipation of what an evening with the four of us together could bring. We were happy though, at least for the time being. Tommy was relating his joy over the fact that he had met the love of his life, Tammy.   None of us had met her, but had heard some gossip through Amy, Tommy’s sister.   She didn’t have much good to say about her.  Tommy on the other hand was smitten. “Our names even match, and she dresses and acts like me, she’s like the female version of me. I can’t stop thinking about her.  She’s so beautiful I can’t even control myself around her. I get nervous, I stutter, like a little kid.  It pisses me off.” I could tell Tommy really liked this girl and I knew it bothered him that he felt vulnerable around her, but she seemed to soothe a real vicious demon that he had lurking deep within him.  We all knew that demon really well because we each have it deep inside us.  That demon was the thing we all shared, our common ground that separated us from the rest of the world but served only to bring the four of us closer together. There are many people who claim to know the demon, this deep anger that when unleashed can generate supreme power, the power to kill instantly, and with extreme efficiency, no hesitation, and no feeling of remorse.   The thing is, that this kind of anger comes from a deep dark place, a bi-product of years of abuse and humiliation.  The demon we know lives inside your closet behind all the skeletons; he’ s the one that is controlling those skeletons like a puppeteer controlling his marionettes when you aren’t looking. He is the one that can summon your most horrid and disturbing memories and convert them into the most hideous energy imaginable. So I thought immediately that if this girl can soothe this defect of sorts that Tommy had built into his psyche, she must be some woman.  But, it would be some time before I would get to meet her, and during some very unusual circumstances. Our other partners in crime, Mack and Skinny, who were occupying the back seat are fucking monsters, real fucking outlaws, gun toting, massive, and completely in control of their irrationality.  They were in the back seat talking about gardening of all things.   I’ll get to that later. That night, instantly the vibe in the car turned ugly and the air was suddenly reeking of violence, as it often did on those special nights, without warning. We were driving the speed limit along a deserted road when I noticed a growing reflection in the rearview mirror.  Looking back into the mirror, I could see some dumb, sweating, coke sniffing, in a rush, yuppie motherfucker, riding right up my ass.   Now, if there is one thing I hate, it is a tailgater, so in line with my duty as a good citizen, I thought something should be done about the situation.  I expressed my disdain to the rest of the car and Skinny quickly came up with a clever solution. Apparently if you hold a quarter out the window or somewhere out of the car, and you are going over 60 MPH, and let it go, the force is enough to break the window of the vehicle behind you.  How appropriate, I thought. “Anyone got a quarter? “ I asked.   Mack provided the quarter, and I held it up through the driver’s side T-Top, taking notice of the targets’ headlights reflecting off of the surface of the pristine metal.  I let it go and felt like I was letting go of all the tension I had acquired day’s earlier, simple solution to a simple problem, I thought. With great speed the quarter hit our friend’s windshield and shattered it to bits.  The alarm of the impact sent the man into a spin out and then he hit a tree.  The force of the crash caused the gas tank to rupture and it began spilling gas out all over the road right into the path of a lit cigarette that Tommy flicked out the window, which ignited the gasoline and created a massive explosion.   “Huh, you were right Skinny, whatdyaknow.”  I said while witnessing the carnage behind me through the rearview mirror.  The flames from the explosion reflected brightly off of my face.  I felt a huge burden being lifted for having rid the world of one of its most intolerable creatures, the yuppie. We drove off into the night heading straight for the bar, enjoying the quiet serenity of the car stereo playing sweet songs while we were sucking up the intoxicating smell of the mild late spring air.