As the crew filled in the main living space of the loft, I
looked around. Skin byrds, Terror boys
and newly joined fresh cuts sat in chairs, on the sofa and the floor. To my left stood Diane and to my right,
Squats. Behind me, towering over us
stood Billy Club.
“Alright -- as you know, we had a little scrap with some
boneheads last night at the Punkin’ Donuts.” I announced. “Shit is about to get
real up here, because some little byrds are tellin’ us that Terri and his
shaved apes are gonna start recruitin’ up here again. Quite possibly targeting these 708er’s comin’
down from Schaumburg, Evanston, Des Plaines and who the fuck knows where else.”
I said
“They’re also gunning for individual members of our crew.”
Diane added “So when you’re out be out with a group. Don’t walk alone unless it’s absolutely
necessary.”
“Try to have some of these new kids with you too, because
they gotta learn what it means to be part of the crew.” Squats said.
“And don’t be afraid to fuck up any Nazi fucker you see.”
Billy Club finished, feeling as if he needed to contribute something to the
conversation.
I rolled my eyes a little bit. “For real.
All of this is true. Anyone
flyin’ an American flag and anti-fascist patches on their bomber is a target.”
“Should we not roll with our bombers?” one of boys asked
“You wear those with pride.
Everyone knows who runs this part of town…” I started
“Motha fuckin’ Chicago runs this part of motha fuckin’
Chicago.” Chicago said climbing in
through the window.
“God damn it Chicago…” Diane started
“It’s cool.” I said putting up my arm. “I mean that.
You wear your shit with pride.
You fly that anti-fascist flag.”
“And anyone who wants Terror Crew tattoos… free of charge.”
Diane said
“So tonight, we gonna have a lot of company up in here. Remember – watch what you say, cuz you don’t
know who’s listening and watch how much ya’ll drink, because you never know who
might show up.” I said
©copyright 2016 Two Purple Lights. All Rights Reserved. We don't own the video, we like Symarip.
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