Penny Lane flooded The BeBop, the harmony between each Beetle's voice echoing across the bar and cresting over the vinyl seats. People were crammed in, every cat in town hollering and holding their girl like they were personal property, staked and documented. Fishnet stockings, leather jackets, greasy hair, bobs, collar shirts, and pleated skirts. Long tie dye dresses, beads and headbands, round glasses and 'Groovy' stamped jeans. All these differences pressed against each other, shouting. Boys bench racing, some down the street pulling the old Chinese Fire Drill. There was a few characters though that stood out a bit differently that the intermixed crowds. They stood by each other, leaning against their white cadillac as if they had the greatest short in town. Though rust clung to the edges of the hood, it still seemed like a good car. A few shouts were passed about as people went in and out of BeBop, things like, "Scuzz Bucket!" or "Daddy's car!" Though they ignored it, one of them kept shooting snarls at the people who called their poor vehicle out. This was David, who they boys called The Spine in a title to point out his height. Always dressed in his collared shirt and leather jacket, slacks and his old, velvet fedora. David was very protective of his poor cadillac, distant to the thought of anything happening to the rusting car. Dressed in a leather jacket and a red v-neck beneath, old jeans hovering over his white sneaks was was his brother Chris, who the boys called Rabbit because of his childish demeanor, was no where near as responsible about his things like David was, and quick frequently flipped the bird to the mocking cats that passed by their cadillac and hollered, flicking them a sweet, silent smile. David never approved, but Sam and Jon did. They always did. Sam, Hatchworth for his excellent handy work under the hood, and John- or Skipper for his optimistic and spaz personality, as well as his Hippie styled hair and threads, always laughed at Rabbit as he did so. It was quite amusing to see such a sweetheart looking guy make such a hand gesture to the greaser boys and their paper shaker girls. Though David slapped his hand down every time he acted out, Rabbit would always just smile and wait until somebody decided to shout at their rust bucket.
"Do it again. DO IT AGAIN." Jon wailed, throwing out his hands. Hatch slugged Jon's shoulder, pushing his glasses back up his narrow nose, "Yeah, do it again Rabbit." He echoed. Rabbit glanced at Spine before he put a finger on his nose to push it up and flicked the gesture to them, "Woop!"
The two burst into a fit of guffaw, holding their sides and and hooting like mad men. David groaned and grabbed Rabbit's wrist hastily, "Stop, you'll get us shot or something. Don't act like such a gone cat. This isn't some New York Skuzz." He hissed, removing his hand to cross his arms, attitude glistening around him. Rabbit bared his teeth in an easy going grin, but before he could speak David suddenly took off his hat with a whistle. His brother began to jam, bounding off to greet a girl standing alone in front of the pad with her eyes misty and cheeks red. Stood up, they supposed. The three abandoned boys watched as David cooed her, the scene mute like an old film, holding out his hand with a comforting unheard language. Jon's curls bounced as he kept laughing long after Hatch had stopped with a tear in his eyes, "Look at 'em! Look! Ladies man! You go, cowboy!" Jon hollered, pressing two hands to cup his mouth, "Giver 'her the ol' Razzle Dazzle!" Hatch giggled, slapping his knee comically, and glanced at Rabbit,
"Oi, why aren't you laughing anymore, friendo?" He asked, gasping for air between words as they were muffled by laughter. Rabbit glowered at David as he wooed the girl to come with him into the bar, pulling the preppy thing along with a polite open-the-door-for-you-m'lady- grin as he did end up opening the door for her and tipping his fedora as she lumbered in. A snarl creased his thin lips, "Look at that weak baby. Another girl every night, and has any of 'em stuck around? Not ever!"
Hatch looked at Jon, who was still snorting with laughter, though he was pressing a hand over his mouth in a fruitless attempt to control it. He then looked back at Rabbit nervously, ending his laughter with a small, brittle chuckle, "What's so wrong then, ey?"
"Nothings wrong." Rabbit sighed, ignoring the new couple that threatened their small cadillac with insults that had suddenly become ancient to him. "Come on, lets just go in."
Jon stormed in first, urging Hatch to follow, "Bet I can beat you in a drinking contest!" He wailed, letting Rabbit stand alone next to the Jukebox, it's neon lights streaming against his jacket. Everything seemed a blur to Rabbit at that moment. Fast, disheveled, uncertain. Why? It'd never been like this. It'd always been a ball here. Every Friday night, the laughter and the music lightening the four boy's hearts light light bulbs. But tonight seemed different. Different in the sense that he felt like there was something missing. A special event that seemed like it had happened life times before, and was recurring. It's silly, but maybe...maybe he was just wired wrong. Rabbit stuffed his hands in his pockets and glowered over the room as if he was trying to point out something weird. His eyes snapped a quick, bemused look at Jon and Hatchworth, who were now gulping down glasses of Root Beer like they were taking down hard liquor. Their glasses dripped with the sweat that beaded the bottoms, foam cresting over the tops and fuzzing their lips. It was a funny sight to see, even if Rabbit didn't let his features reveal so. With a heavy sigh, he looked back at the room. Expecting to see the same sight he saw moments ago, something odd stood out this time. Maybe the odd he was searching for? Maybe not. But it seemed so out of place. So yes, and so no. A pale figure, slim and crestfallen, slouching over at her table, and looking at the window with a bereaved glare. Two melting milkshakes waited in front of her, untouched and sinking low into their lonely glasses. Night greeted the character with a sea of stars, the dull light of the moon reflecting in her electric, hazel stare as tears rolled down her cheeks like racing stars. Something buzzed in Rabbit's chest, making him blink hard. Ruby lipstick was smeared on her lips, the gum in her mouth being chewed languorously- almost struggling to pop from her mouth as if she had no energy to continue. Blonde tendrils of hair streamed down mid-arm, gloved hands running through it with stressed unawareness. And suddenly, Rabbit wanted to scream. For whatever reason, he wanted to so badly it left a small pain in his gut as came to the epiphany that he was staring at her. With a quickly twist on his heels, he gripped the top of the Jukebox with one hand, and glowered over the song list before he crouched. With nimble fingers, he moved the other hand from his pocket with a silver quarter thin between them, and slipped it into the smalls slot with an anxious glare. Rabbit stood, and waited before the Jukebox suddenly flickered from red to a blue petrol flame, and music began to chime from it's speakers.
Rabbit took a sharp inhale, and opened his mouth with a crisp, cherry monotone,
"I'm sittin' there by the girl with the golden hair- ruby lips, poppin' gum, and electric stare! Dashboard lights glowing red and the moonlight catching on her pretty head-" He moved his hips in a strange sort of sway as he twirled a few steps closer to the stranger's lonely seat. Heads turned, and shouts began to urge the boy to go on one at a time before they merged into a blur of hollers. Un-noticed, David looked up at his brother, the sudden center of attention with a bit of unexpressed awe. He felt the rim of his hat for a moment, and then lowered his hand to his new company, "Care to dance?" He inquired, almost interrupted by the shouting at the bar. This was Jon, who was swaying back and forth with a queasy expression. One hand gripped a mug, Root Beer sloshing out onto the bar counter, "A-Another one f'er the good ol'- Over- hur' Bob-!" He called to the cringing bartender, slurred vowels prolonged and grating. Hatch worth was sitting there, watching with an amused expression as his friend tumbled off his stool.
"Black leather lace, bell buckle grease, oh! In my white Cadillac, may it rust in peace! On a yellow dying lawn, while the radio plays a crackling song! I'll rust with you! I'll rust everyone of you!" It was now that the girl was staring at Rabbit, and he stared back at her with a kind grin as he kept his song moving from his lips accordingly to the JukeBoxes cries. People began to holler lowered, whistle, dance, and snap. David was swinging his girl about the bar like there was no tomorrow, and people joined in to cheer them on as well. Their feet were flying as he flipped her this way and that, ducking, jumping, and pressing close.
"Nostalgic nights- Have me feeling it's all gone, gone gone- to rust…"