When I got home from school I ran up into my room. Davey had given me a new cd. I threw it in my stereo and turned up the volume. The Cock Sparrer's started blaring from the speakers. I looked in my full length mirror, snarled, then shook my hips. It was hard not to invision myself as a punk rock version of Elvis. I'd recently dyed my boring light brown hair into a midnight black and my hair was long enough that it could be styled with vaseline based pomeade products.
After hearing the album three times I laid down on my bed. I stared up in the ceiling and thought about the day. It was pretty dull, I thought to myself. Today in gym class we had to run about the track. I ran the first lap, then walked backwards the second lap with Davey until the gym teacher yelled at the pair of us. The third and fourth laps Davey and I practiced giving the v-sign to the jocks in front of us, their backs to us, their eyes focused on
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