Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I want

a fish called sid joint

|an| I'm back! Yeah, I'm cool. This is for all my loyal reviewers, especially Paper Lanterns and Schitzo Authoress, because they are great to me, and I am not worthy of their reviews. Read their stuff, now! Aden and Finn are both based on friends of mine. The story, though, is totally original. And the title is from a Smiths song that you should all download now.

This is for Joe Strummer. -sid


The poster of Sid Vicious on the wall opposite me stared at me as I unlocked the cash register. The walls of the record store were covered in posters, and this particular poster was positioned directly across from the checkout counter, where Sid's arrogant little eyes could stare at me all day, driving me nearly to the point of insanity. Today as I opened up, however, I didn't wage a staring war with Sid; I just flipped the poster off and went around nervously, trying to find things I could do to keep me occupied until business picked up. I didn't want to think right now.

I put a Rolling Stones CD in the store's audio system, turning it up so Mick Jagger's voice filled the whole place. It was cynical music for a cynical person. I dusted off the racks of records and CDs before taking my customary position behind the cash register and placing a sneer on my face that would hopefully discourage any customers from asking me for help. It wasn't like I didn't like my job-I loved it. I just didn't like people. Especially on that day, I didn't want to deal with anyone.

As my luck would have it, Aden, my co-worker walked in just as the CD switched tracks to "Lets Spend the Night Together". Aden immediately started cracking up at my choice of songs.

"Trying to tell me something, Finn?" He chuckled to me as he pinned his name tag to his shirt. I just gave him my death glare and said "Sod off".

He rolled his eyes as he sat behind the counter with me. "You know, just because you're English doesn't give you the right to emulate the less-then-attractive attitudes of your idol there," he said, nodding to the Sid poster.

"I'm not copying him! My pissed off-ness comes naturally, thank you!" I shot back. Hopefully he would get the message that I was not up to being playful. I stared to my left, away from Aden, and straight at the glass doors of the store. They played back our reflections. Despite my short blond hair, I did look, as Aden had once put it, "like the love child of Sid Vicious and Little Jimmy Urine". I was short and scrawny with wiry muscles and a sharp, clever face. With eyes that constantly gave out a "don't even think about approaching me" glare, I wasn't nearly as affable looking at as Aden. His shaggy brown hair, freckles and huge grin, along with his tall, built body all gave off a Brandon Boyd-like surfer dude friendliness.

"Wild Horses" came next on the CD player. It was Finn's favorite song, but had only ever admitted to liking such a sentimental tune to Aden. I turned to him with the intention of telling him not to make fun of me, that was, until he grabbed my hand, pulled me from behind the counter and made me dance with him. We did a sort of klutzy tango-waltz combination and banged into about 5 CD racks. I was all set to be annoyed and pissed at his making me fool around with him, but I couldn't muster up the energy. So I just tiredly put my head on his shoulder, thinking of ways I could embarrass him throughout the day in punishment.

Without warning, our crazy aging indie-rocker manager came bursting through the front door. Blue dreadlocks flew everywhere as he stopped to catch his breath. He looked like he had just gone through a war.

"Boys, we got problems," Randy The Manager said once he'd remembered where he was. He simply ignored the fact that he'd found two of his employees dancing. In this place, stuff like that happened all the time.

"What happened?" I asked, not showing concern in my voice.

"Joe Strummer is dead. The lead singer of The Clash, and a good friend of mine. He was an unbelievable guy. I don't think his influence will ever be felt in the same way again. You two are my only employees and as close to a family as I'll ever get. So, kiddos, we're going on a road trip. We're gonna go on the punk rock tour of England. We're gonna go crash a funeral."

I probably should have seen that coming.