BOMB THREATS, THE ROCK, AND A CRASH

BOMB THREATS, THE ROCK, AND A CRASH(L DOUGLAS ST OURS) BOMB THREATS, THE ROCK, AND A CRASH


On a pleasant spring day
a disgruntled janitor phones in a bomb threat
freeing us to saddle up for the backwoods
to get stoned on the rock
busting the balls of heathen bikers,
the potbelly law and Christian jocks.

Our last spring in high school
was memorable for the bomb threats
telephoned in on the most lovely of days
to get out, enjoy the freedom, and soak the rays.
The authorities assumed the perpetrator
was one of us disgruntled left wing student agitators
and they offered a cash reward.
It wasn't until late May near final exams
that the cops flushed out the culprit
the black janitor calling in from the boiler room bowels
of our three story clock tower institution.
At that time he was the only black person on staff
and until he was caught,
the siren bell
and precautionary evacuation
heralded our return to the rock.

The rock loomed way out in the country
a solitary sentinel above the treetops
at the confluence of the Hardware and the Rivanna.
On most evenings it was a hangout for bikers
because the road was isolated and lightly used
ideal for showing off and racing their machines.
And the baddest gang of the bunch was the heathens.

After a rollicking ride, we arrived, piled out of our cars
and crawled all over that rock like ants on cake,
jocks and freaks uneasily coexisting on separate turfs
drinking beer and smoking pot and playing eight tracks so loud
even the crows cackled and danced.

Evan, Mason, and me straddled the space
between the ragged stoners and the raging jocks
because in the middle was where the prettiest girls would be,
they mostly dated the trophy athletes,
but we could usually peel off a few daring chicks to hang with us three.
I approached one girl,
who agreed over the phone to go out with me that following weekend,
for a confirmation of our date,
and in front of her friends she yelled at me
"I would never go out with you. My mother told me you're the biggest drug dealer in Charlottesville!"
I backed off thinking, damn it...that wasn't quite true.

Late one morning the heathens roared in and swarmed the base of the rock,
angered by the cars taking the space where they'd rev and run their hogs.
Initially they paid no mind to our partying up on the heights
until a deputy showed up and that's when a couple of hippies
to the left of me starting shouting from on high "f**k the pigs!"

After that heckling I watched the deputy chuckling with Big Eddy, the heathens' head honcho.
The cop pointed up in my general direction and then took off in his patrol car.
He apparently gave crazy Eddy the green light to climb up and hospitalize one of us.
Well Eddy clumsily charged up the boulder sliding and huffing and puffing
while I was obliviously happy and as high as a flower child kite
when suddenly Eddy's monstrous sweaty features and tooth deprived mouth
started spitting all over my face
accusing me of hassling the cop
and of pissing on his territory.
The first assertion was untrue
but the second I couldn't deny,
but on the other hand
he was twice my size
with more capacity
to retain his liquor
though at the time
he slurred the words
of his dire threat
to beat me to death
with a bike chain
which stretched down
from his beefy arm
like a dragon's tail.

True I was feeling no pain
but still I was in no mood for a skull fracture
and just as I was about to flee
three unlikely folks stepped forward to my rescue.
They were the cream of the crowd,
the prim and proper and pretty teachers' pets,
Angie, the varsity cheerleader
Doris, the class secretary
and Mary, the yearbook editor
all truly smashed and yet able to sweet talk big Ed out of a savage act of manslaughter.

As Ed lumbered and slid back down to his base,
Evan, my ride, grabbed me by the arm and said "lets bolt."
we took off in his old man's Corvair with the top down
and to our pleasant surprise my three barbie doll rescuers broke away as well
and followed us in a hatbox Renault...probably to hit of us up for nickel bags.

We sped along a narrow and winding rural road tailgated by the giggling Pollyannas
when out of the blue around a sharp blind bend, Evan braked hard for a stop sign
and the girls plowed into us and accordioned our car's rear end,
whiplashing our necks and flinging us around like dolls in a box.
The impact shoved our car across a busy highway
crashing through a fence before bouncing to a stop
among a docile herd of cud chewing cows.
Shaken and dazed we climbed out to see the trunk
crushed like a Schlitz can...his car totaled Evan said "Aw shit!"

Behind us in the other car through the smoke and steam
I saw Doris behind the cracked windshield, still sitting shotgun,
bleeding from the forehead, the blood tricking from her mouth and over her chin.
But everybody seemed okay when that same deputy showed up
and roughly escorted a stunned Evan and a hysterical Angie into the back seat of his cruiser.
Explaining the accident, the two of them got so acquainted, they were dating within days.

I stood around with the laconic Mason,
we were watching the Jerseys
beyond the broken fence,
in the pasture
the wrecked car
looked like an unfinished sculpture.

by L DOUGLAS ST OURS
April 2010