It's Not Even Bad: Hunx and His Punx's Street Punk
“the vomit flies swarming in your belly buzz into the shit and refuse”
+ + +
Hunx and His Punx are hanging down the alley late at night as you stumble out of the club show or whatever, ten beers deep and feeling pukey in the low-light-fog-haloed streetlamps reflecting off the rain-slicked neon streets, washed out yellow matching their burning eyes blending with the alternating reds and greens of the stoplights, and you're just beer'd enough to have trouble processing everything around you—
so the alley seems as good a place as any to let the vomit flies swarming in your belly buzz into the shit and refuse, and there are these scuzzy guys (they're actually pretty well put together, probably) but in this darkened world of alleys and nighttime street corners and burnouts and rat-faced pockmarked dudes who lick knives and wait for you to puke before they get the pointy end all up in your midsection and try and grift your wallet, you're looking at the world in the beer-soaked haze of misunderstanding where "everything is cool dude, it's cool."
But that leering, leather-jacket rocking, blue-jeans-and-ripped-up-white-tee wearing, Swiss–army knife wielding, voice like a snot-rocket-exploding-on-the-launch-pad, isn't hearing any of the words you're blurting out like cracked rim shots, any of the "hey waits" like a two-second fill, the "whoa"s and the "whoa, man"s, and the knife is just punching a little bit too much into your ribs, like maybe you are actually being stabbed possibly, post puke, like maybe shit is a little too real, a little too bloody, a little too dirty—
like maybe that alley was a bad idea, or you shouldn't fly blind out of the club however many beer sheets into the fort you were building to protect yourself from dudes like this in the future, it's too late though, and now you're dying or whatever. Whatever man. That's what it's like listening to Street Punk. A solid twenty minutes of that. Actually, it's not even bad. And the dude is totally messing with you, just cause he saw you get all pukey in the alley for a minute, and it's funny man, and then he hands you your wallet back and a road beer, and he says drive safe, or something. But you know he doesn't mean it.
+ + +
