24 Hours: chap. 3

The young goth boy walked peacefully along through the hick mountain town of South Park. He trudged through his neighbor's yet to be shoveled yards, unable to hear the crunching noises of the snow below him as he set foot through it with his black shoes. His Tones On Tail album played loudly from his headphones and drowned out any other noise, including an elderly man complaining about the new foot prints in his lawn. "Hey! Martin kid!" the man referred to the boy by his surname, not realizing he was going unheard. "How many times do I have to tell you? Stay off my property!" The boy glanced towards the man sitting on his porch and reached for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the messenger bag slung over his shoulder. The tiny little band pins on the bag's flap jingled and clinked against each other and seemed to have caught the attention of a nearby dog, who started to bark maniacally. Georgie placed one of the paper sticks in between his smudged black lips and flicked the lighter's tab, instantly inhaling in plain sight of the older man. He blew a satisfying stream of smoke into the air and shut his eyelids. All sounds around him were masked by the catchy symbol beats of the song "Christian Says" now being played on his CD player. He stuffed the cigarette package and lighter into a jacket pocket and continued on his way. "You," his neighbor croaked, "are going to be the death of me with your secondhand smoke!"

The boy pulled the rolled up tobacco away from his face and came around the hedges that separated his own yard from the grouchy man next door. The house looked no more ordinary than every other house in the town, which annoyed him. A simple brick red 2-story home. 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms and a basement. The basement was Georgie's room. He had asked his parents to allow him to move from the upstairs to the basement and, most likely because they wanted to make sure he was happy, gave in to his request. Their cars weren't in the driveway yet and weren't expected to arrive anytime soon. Georgie walked up the concrete pathway to the front door and stood outside while he enjoyed the last few puffs of his cigarette. There was about half an inch left before it reached the filter and the air outside was frigid despite the sun trying to inch through breaks in the clouds, he wanted to get inside. He took one last look down the road, towards the mountains in the distance, and dropped the fag right beside the welcome mat. He ground the butt with his shoe, picked it up and tossed it into the small tin mailbox hanging beside their doorbell. His parents didn't know that their young son was already a smoker and blamed the smell and the butts lying around to his no-good friends. His mother, being to over protective wretch that she was, told him continuously to stop hanging out with Evan, Dylan and Henrietta. They weren't allowed inside or anywhere near Georgie's house. They were a "bad influence" and rotted his brain more than television could ever. They were polluting his mind with their "filthy dark culture." Georgie dug through his bag for his set of keys and thought about driving one of the knives that his mother hadn't yet found under his bed into her skull. He was certain his dad wanted to do the same.

"Christian says you can't be happy being this way." the vocalist's voice pulsed through the boy's ears. No truer, more ironic words could have been said at that very moment. Georgie grasped the silver keys between his fingers and pulled them out to let himself inside. After a moment of struggle to turn the key in the keyhole, he finally managed to swing the door open. He took in the familiar scent of home and sneered to himself for just a second before actually walking inside the front room. Overall, the house was utterly average and dull. The carpet was a shade of red and the wallpaper a shade of beige. A leather couch, coffee table, lamp, television set and a bookshelf made up the furniture of the room before him. It was all too clean and perfect. It was almost suspicious. Without even scanning the area, Georgie kicked off his shoes and neglected to place them on the shoe rack before heading towards the door underneath the staircase. He passed up the kitchen behind the next door over and quickly descended the creaking stairs into his sanctuary.

At the bottom of the steps, the boy set his foot down on the concrete floor and tossed his school bag against the wall. Almost every square foot of the opposite wall was covered in band posters and art work he had printed off of the internet. What Georgie liked most about the basement was how cool and dark it was, even with the overhead lamp turned on. The light hung over his small bookshelf that contained numerous horror novels and trinkets that he had collected over the years. His music continued to play in his headphones and he yanked each bud out of his ears. With a tap of a power button on the CD player in his jacket pocket, he took the trench coat off to throw it over the railing of the stairs. He blew his bangs out of his face and walked several feet over to crash onto his mattress on the floor. He never made his bed because, obviously, it was what the conformists did. He pulled some of the dark colored pillows closer and wrapped his arms around them, taking in a deep breath. School was finally over for the day and he was free to do what he pleased. The relief was overwhelming.

Georgie rolled over to his side still clinging to a pillow. He breathed in the smell of incense still lingering on the fabric of the soft, downy cushion. Although he was only lying down for about a minute, he felt his eyelids become heavier and he yawned with his mouth wide open. It was time for coffee. Without missing a beat, the goth pushed himself off of the mattress and scrambled over the side so that his feet touched the concrete floor. He pulled himself up and bounded up the stairs back into the kitchen. Once there, he measured out coffee grounds, put them into his family's coffee machine and turned the appliance on. He leaned back against the counter top and drummed his fingers against the edge in thoughtful gesture. He ran through his head possible activities for him to do while he was at home. He could watch reruns on the television, write some more poetry, read the rest of his H.P. Lovecraft novel or "Poems by Poe," use the computer in the upstairs office, throw a snack together...

The gurgling noises that the coffee maker made distracted his thinking. He shook his head, hair flying around wildly, and surveyed the area of his kitchen. Again, average and not much to look at. The refrigerator in the corner of the room started making ringing noises and Georgie glanced over to it for a split second before setting his eyes on the phone on the side of the wall. He could always call his friends and see what they were up to. He walked over, ignoring how slippery the tiles of the floor were under his socks, and picked up the cordless phone from the wall piece. He dialed Henrietta's cell phone number first, and heard a bad recording of a Skinny Puppies song play as he waited for her to pick up. When no one answered, he tried Dylan's cell. The "red goth" picked up after three rings and answered in an aggravated voice, "Yeah?"

"Dylan, it's Georgie." he mumbled, turning around to face the coffee maker. "You doing anything?"

"Nah, not really." he seemed uninterested, "I was asleep, actually. Thanks for waking me. Not."

"You're welcome." Georgie replied sarcastically, keeping an eye on the coffee. "Drink more coffee, it's bad for you." he walked back to the machine on the counter and hovered above it with the phone. "What are you doing later?"

"Dunno. Henri wanted to go to the graveyard sometime tonight..." he coughed. "I think."

Georgie's coffee was just about ready. Dylan could probably hear the hunk of plastic gurgling as the hot liquid poured into the glass container. "I don't have anything of interest to do. I'm bored. My fucking parents are still at work."

"You could entertain yourself for once."

"Meh..." the small goth held the phone to his ear with his shoulder and retrieved the filled jug of hot coffee from the machine. He carefully tilted the container into a ceramic mug. "I'm going for a walk then. Don't be surprised if I show up at your door step." he blew at the surface of the dark liquid and took a sip. It was entirely bitter, which he enjoyed over drinking it with milk and sweetener.

There was some shifting around happening on the other end of the line. Dylan mumbled, "I'm not at my house. Evan and I skipped our afternoon classes and hung out at his house today." he coughed once more. "I drank too much and crashed on his bed."

Georgie almost spat out his coffee. "Without me?" he set the mug down against the counter top with a loud clunk. He quickly jumped up on the counter to sit on its surface, hunching over so that he wouldn't bump the cabinets.

"Yeah, dude. I'm sorry neither one of us called." the teenager coughed. Georgie gritted his teeth and waited for Dylan to continue. "You're too young for that kind of thing anyways."

Like he hadn't forgotten. Georgie sighed. "Fuck you. I don't care about the getting wasted thing. I'm pissed because you never ask me to do anything with you guys anymore."

"Look, man, I said I was sorry. We can't reach you if you don't have a cell phone."

"Fuck you." he growled into the phone. "Damn it, you could have just picked me up. I was stuck at school all day with all of those whiny little Justin Biebers and Nazi cheerleaders! Some assholes made it their pleasure to make fun of me! Gym was miserable!" he yelled. He reached for his mug of coffee and took a swig of it before slamming it back down. "I just want to be able to hang out with you guys."

Dylan took a moment to reply. Throughout the small goth's rant, it seemed as though he had lit a cigarette for himself and was now taking in a drag. Georgie heard a puff before the other said, "Just relax, dude, I've got a headache. If you really want, just come over to his house and chill with us. Okay? I've gotta go."

Georgie sighed and pulled his bangs back behind his ear. It had become an undesirable habit now. "I would like that..." he took a smaller sip of the coffee. "Fine. Alright. I'm coming over."

"Okay."

"Oh, yeah, and Dylan?" he asked.

"What?"

"Don't forget to put your pants back on." It was obviously just a joke but the older goth seemed to take it seriously. Georgie heard a beep on the phone that meant the line was disconnected. He smiled to himself and snickered. He pulled the mug back up to his lips and jumped onto the floor from the counter. With another gulp, the drink was gone and he placed the mug into the sink. He walked back towards the basement staircase and returned to the crypt that was his room. At the bottom of the stairs, he quickly grabbed his keys and his jacket from the railing and went back up into the kitchen for more coffee. He grabbed a plastic thermos from the cabinet and filled it with what was left of the coffee that he had just brewed. He couldn't help but take a sip of it before closing it with the lid. He crossed the living room and entered the downstairs bathroom. The bathroom was clean and shiny, much to his disdain, and he groomed himself in the mirror. His hair was a bit out of order so he ran his fingers through it to even it out. His eyeliner and lipstick were definitely not as defined as this morning and he dug through one of the drawers for his make-up. He reapplied each before slamming the door shut behind him and making his way towards the front door. He slipped his feet back into his shoes by the door and finally stepped back out into the outside world.

666

The last dozen cars finally exited the South Park Middle School parking lot. After waiting for about half an hour, Ike was definitely relieved when his older brother showed up in their dad's old silver hybrid car. He pulled the car up into one of the parking slots and Ike filed inside the passenger seat, throwing his backpack down by his shoes and buckling his seat belt. His older brother looked to him and smiled. Kyle definitely looked like their parents. His nose was considerably triangular like their mom's and his facial features were much like their dad's. He was their biological son, so it only made sense. His curly red hair was tucked under the same style of green hat that he had worn since elementary school. "Hey." he said, turning down the radio that was blasting music from one of the few stations in town. "How was school, dude?"

"Hi." Ike adjusted his seat belt. His brother reached for the shift and pulled the car into reverse. "It was okay." he said. School was always only okay. It was never good, or great, or even bad. School was never any different and Kyle should have known that by now. Even if his 8th grade year had just barely started, he doubted it would change much throughout the year.

"Are you liking your classes this year?" Kyle asked. He turned the steering wheel around a sharp turn and drove closer to the exit.

"They're okay. The teachers are the same. The material is easy. The only class I hate is gym." Ike stared out the window at a group of 6th graders walking home.

"Oh, but..." Kyle turned onto the road that went down Main Street, "you used to love gym. Especially hockey, am I right?"

"I got sick of it. Everyone thinks that every Canadian loves hockey. They all just assumed that I liked it since I was good at it, but..." he looked back towards his brother. "I think I just hate playing sports in general."

His brother nodded, listening intently as he kept his eyes on the road. "Yeah, I see what you mean. That Cartman guy still rags on me for being a Jew. That fat asshole. We can totally play sports." Kyle was talking now as though he were steamed. He sighed and halted to a stop sign. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Just rambling." The coast was clear and he pressed his shoe against the gas pedal to get the car moving again.

"Oh, well, how was your day, dude?"

"It was alright. I didn't expect junior year to be this easy. Especially my AP chemistry class. Other than that, well, same as usual." Kyle replied. They were about four blocks away from their house. He had decided to make more small talk with his younger brother. "So, tell me." he tightened his grip on the wheel. "Did you take your counselor's advice? You know, what she said about opening up more and talking to others?" he asked as he shifted around some more in his seat.

"I didn't tell you about that." Ike pulled his leg against his chest, avoiding getting dirt from the soles of his shoe on the seat.

"Mom told me about it. You going to tell me or what?"

Ike sighed and turned his head to look out the window. "Well, I kind of did. Besides the teachers, this freaky emo kid in my class started talking to me. In English class. And then in Gym. It was weird and I wasn't sure how to respond."

"Better than nothing, I guess." Kyle mumbled. His brother lacked conversational skills with people he wasn't familiar with, and though they were talking now, he was positive that Ike hadn't actually said much at all to this other person. "Do you know him?"

"Yeah, a bit. I mean, we've been in the same grade for ages, I just never got to get to know him. I even forgot his name." Ike was twisting the fabric of his Canadian flag shirt. It looked as though he had forgotten his sweatshirt, but Kyle didn't bring it up.

"Well, that just makes talking to them more awkward, dude."

"Yeah, yeah... I know. Anyways, he hangs out with the goth kids in your grade, I think."

"You mean that group of depressed teenagers that used to hang out behind the school all the time and smoke? Then, wait, if he's in your grade then..." Kyle did the equations in his head. He turned on the turn signal and changed lanes to turn onto a different street. "We used to refer to him as Kindergoth. I think he's the Martins' kid. Crap... I forgot his name."

"Oh well, don't strain yourself."

"Yeah... I hate those goth kids. They do nothing but whine about their lives being worse than the rest of ours like they're more important. Just, I mean, damn, this was a long time ago but at one point they had converted Stan into joining their little clique."

"I vaguely remember something like that happening."

"Just don't turn into them, okay? I don't think they realize just how great life can be."

Yeah, Ike thought, Life is certainly great alright.

666

After walking the couple of blocks that it took to get to Evan's house, Georgie found himself staring at the home and swishing his hair around to a beat as he finished up the last few seconds of a Tones on Tail song. He took the time to analyze Evan's living facility. The older goth's house was no different than the one to its left, or the one on the right, or any other house on the street for that matter. All of these damn houses in South Park looked identical besides maybe their color. They all conformed to the same "ideal home" image. He pressed the off button on his CD player and proceeded to walk up the stairs of the front porch, where he kicked the door with his shoe for whoever inside to take notice of his presence. There were muffled voices coming from Evan's living room and it sounded as though his television was on. He waited a moment before leaning forward and resting his forehead against the wooden door.

"I'm telling you, dude, Peter Murphy gave the best performances out of any singer." It was Evan's voice and he was approaching his front door. He didn't actually open it, however. Georgie heard another person yelling and it was undeniably Dylan's nasally voice, which said, "No way. Faris Badwan creates riots and yells at stage assistants." The small goth chuckled to himself at their debate and opened the door for himself, almost knocking the much taller goth behind it over. "Hey." he greeted the curly haired teenager and disrupted their conversation. The addition of a third member to the room changed the atmosphere.

"Hey, Georgia." Evan ruffled the younger boy's hair in a brotherly fashion and walked back over to join Dylan on the couch. Though Georgie showed agitation on the surface in response to the name, he eased up from the touch to his hair. He pretended to pout and fixed his hair, pulling it behind his ear.

Dylan moved over on the couch to make room. Evan sat on the opposite end and shouted over his shoulder, "We're watching a horror movie, dude. Come sit." he waved his hand in gesture towards the old couch they shared. Georgie pulled out the cords in his ears and removed his trench coat before tossing it to the side with his shoes and walking over. He fell backwards onto the middle cushion and sunk into the cushions as if they were trying to swallow him. He propped himself up so that his back was mildly hunched over. Beside him sat Dylan, who took sips out of a beer can and set the cold drink on his pant leg. Good. He had remembered to put them back on. Georgie chuckled to himself. The red haired goth took notice and saw that he was looking at his black pants. He coughed in a manner that caught the younger boy's attention and he looked up. "You remembered your pants." Georgie pointed.

"What about pants?" Evan asked.

"Oh, nothing. Just Georgie being some kind of perv." Dylan quickly answered. He shoved the boy with the back of his hand. "Knock it off, you sick little tween."

"Just watch the damn movie. That blond preppy chick is about to be torn apart." Evan ordered as he turned the volume up with the TV's remote. There was loud screaming coming from the glowing box and the two older teenagers watched the screen intently.The small boy sitting in the middle couldn't pay attention to the graphic violence behind the screaming and instead let his eyes wander around the room. It was practically trashed from whatever Dylan and Evan had done earlier. Beer cans and cigarette butts littered the floor, furniture seemed out of place, and framed pictures were left uneven on their walls. It looked as though there were way more people in there earlier than just the two teens. Georgie kicked one of the aluminum cans with a shoe and it rolled to a stop several feet away. He turned to Evan and pointed towards the abused can. "Did you seriously drink all of those?"

Evan toyed with the buttons on his unbuttoned shirt unconsciously, still staring at the screen as some poor girl was ripped to shreds. Georgie wondered for what reason his shirt would be undone but ignored the thought and flicked at the taller boy's forehead to get his attention. "Hey, ass-munch!"

The taller goth shook his head. "Yeah, but we didn't actually plan on it, junior."

"I'm not a fucking child anymore." Georgie sighed and pulled his legs to his chest. His bangs moved back into his line of vision and he blew them away, muttering, "whatever."

They watched the movie in silence for a while. It seemed to be nearing its end. The manic serial killer was caught and put in jail or something like that, but whatever happened, Georgie wasn't paying too much attention to it. "This is about the most conformist plot ever." Dylan complained. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his plastic lighter. "And so is this scenario." he flicked the lighter's tab and it sparked.

"Teenagers sitting on a couch watching a movie, you mean?" Evan asked. He turned away from the movie to watch the lighter make attempts at creating fire.

"Yeah." Dylan sipped his beer and set the can on the ground. His thumb stopped flicking the tab and he slumped backwards. "We should go somewhere instead of sitting on our asses. I'm calling Henrietta."

Evan nodded, "You do that." Dylan dug through his back pants pocket, pulling out his scratched up black cellphone. He flipped it open and started to press some buttons. The weight on the couch shifted as Evan got up and stretched. He turned the television off and motioned Georgie to follow him as he walked into his kitchen. The boy leaned forward and pushed himself off of the sofa, trailing behind Evan and leaving the red haired goth to flip his hair and wait for their friend to pick up. While Dylan sat in the living room talking on the phone, the other two rummaged around Evan's pantry in search of food. There didn't seem to be much of anything left to eat in the house but they were able to find a bag of potato chips. The older goth brewed coffee and they each grabbed handfuls of the greasy chips while they waited. Out of habit, Georgie avoided letting the oils touch his lips in fear of it messing up his lipstick. Evan smirked, wanting to laugh but knowing it may lead to an injury. He glanced up to the doorway and after a few moments, their friend joined them and leaned against the kitchen table under the fluorescent lights.

"Dude," Dylan jerked his neck to get his red hair out of his face, "we need to go pick her up. Her mom's apparently being a major bitch and she can't leave." He looked between them. Evan had just stuffed his mouth with the greasy snack and wiped his fingers against the curtains.

"Alright," he replied with a cheek full of food, "find the car keys, I'm making coffee." He gestured towards the Mr. Coffee on the counter that was now gurgling. The scent of coffee beans spread through the room and the promise of caffeine rejuvenated the red haired goth. He quickly left and returned about a minute later with a key ring and his jacket draped around his shoulders. He dropped the keys onto the counter beside the appliance and crossed his arms. "I'm ready when you guys are."

"You can sit out in my dad's car if you want." Evan waved his hand and tapped his foot impatiently as if it would make the coffee move along.

Dylan sighed, needing coffee himself. He picked the keys up once again and carried them outside. Georgie followed him out into the living room to gather his things. The room was still a wreck but to his knowledge, Evan's mom was away on a business trip. Whether there was garbage everywhere or not was of no concern to him or his older friend. He shook his trench coat into place on his small body and slid his feet into his shoes. He met Dylan outside and asked for a cigarette. Dylan obliged and handed him one, taking one out for himself and sticking it in between his teeth. "Need a light?" he offered his plastic lighter. The younger goth took it and brought the flame to the end of the paper stick. He inhaled the smoke and released it from his nostrils, staring at the mountains in the distance as the sun set behind them. It was peaceful, really. Cold, but peaceful. He exchanged glances with Dylan, whose eye twitched from the lack of caffeine. Fortunately for him, Evan opened his front door behind them, trying to balance the three mugs filled with their precious warm liquids. He offered a mug to each of them and took a sip of his own while pulling the door shut. "Thanks." they mumbled, hastily bringing the drink to their lips.

"Did you start the car yet?" Evan wrinkled his nose. Dylan shook his head and handed him the set of keys. The curly haired goth snatched them up and walked over to the driver's side of the warn down minivan. The car beeped and its lights flashed on. Georgie crushed his fag with the sole of his shoes and got into the back seat with Dylan following him to the passenger side. Inside the vehicle, country music played loudly and Evan scoffed, ejecting one of his father's CDs and tossing it elsewhere. After sitting down, he reached over Dylan to get into the compartment on the dash board for his mp3 player. He connected the small plastic device to a cord and his own music played. It was set to one of The Cure's albums and the goths exchanged pleased smiles before finally backing out of the driveway and onto the street.