Story: Riot Van

Title: Riot Van
Author: zotlot
Rating: U
Universe: the Real World (I know, *gasp*)
Summary: A random drabble I wrote for English class. We had to take one of two songs (I chose 'Riot Van' by The Arctic Monkeys) and write a story about a character from it. Here be the result:

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Saturday night at Gerry’s Bar. The old guy’s a soft-touch… and a touch blind the only place in town where us underagers can get a drink these days. Down-town Belfast really lights up at night, a mix between shady neon and police car lights. The thump of music from the pubs merges with the sound of fist-fights in the back streets.

It’s a bloody mess. A violent mismatch of ignorance and violence and desperation and politics.

So we walk home, and I’m far more smashed than usual. Johnny-boy carries me for once, the pavement blurs before my eyes and the blood pounds in my head. It’s strange tonight, ‘cause it’s usually me who’s nearly sober, walking, not staggering, home to a darkened house, as filled with desperation as anywhere else. But then, it’s not usually Mary’s birthday.

Every year, I run as fast as I can away from home. I choose lose myself in a bottle, rather than in misery. But I don’t know what Dad does, stuck in that old house, all alone. He doesn’t seem the type for old photos, but I guess I don’t know the old guy that well. Maybe we’re more similar than I thought, maybe he’s the same as me, as bad as me. Maybe he’s off his face, giving lip to some PC, same as I am.

Without Mary to hold us back, we do as we ‘ave to. We turn into animals, we follow instinct and run, as fast as we can, we hide in the bottom of a bottle of beer. We can’t stop the stupid words we speak to block out her voice in our heads. We piss off some copper, and get beaten half to death in the back of a van.

And all to forget, always to forget.