Welcome to Bullworth

When Jimmy Hopkins had revealed his address to an unstable kleptomaniac with a taste for dangerous driving, he might have been under the influence of the fact that the guy had just given him a hundred bucks. Hey, he'd thought, if he's giving me money, how bad can he be?

Pretty bad, it turned out, but that would be jumping too far ahead in the game. Jimmy first knew something was up while he was eating leftover pizza out of the box, like he would on any normal evening, when he heard his front door open. His front door with like four fucking locks on it that were on at all times.

So he did what any normal person with a minor record of misdemeanour would do, and grabbed a baseball bat and hid behind a lamp. He kept very quiet and listened for the footsteps. Eventually a short guy with curly brown hair shuffled timidly through the doorway, not looking like the typical sort of burglar, but Jimmy jumped screaming through the air at him anyway.

"Ahhh!" the guy yelped as Jimmy lurched out. "Don't hurt me! Don't hurt me!"

"Who are you?! How'd you get in?" he bellowed, but also noticed that the guy wasn't carrying any weapons. In fact he was totally empty-handed.

"Gary sent me, Gary sent me!" he chattered fearfully.

"Gary Smith?" Jimmy specificed.

"Yeah!" the stranger answered. Now Jimmy realised why Gary had told him his full name.

"Well, how the fuck did you get into my place?" he addressed next.

"I got some keys from him. From Gary, I mean," the guy explained meekly. "He said you'd be expecting me."

"Like fuck I was. Why the hell has he got keys? I didn't give them to him."

"I don't know, he has ways of getting this stuff," the guy explained. "Don't get mad, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"You coulda just knocked," he replied.

"Gary said... well whatever," the guy mumbled. "He probably knew you'd freak out, and that's why he told me to let myself in."

"You mean he set you up?" Jimmy suggested bluntly. Some kind of friends he kept.

"Sure. He likes to," the guy answered despondently. "I'm Pete, by the way. Pete Kowalski."

"Hey," he replied suspiciously. "So what are you doing here if you know Gary's setting you up?"

"I didn't," he insisted. "Not this time, at least. He's not always that bad," the unfortunate guy excused. Making excuses for Gary Smith of all people.

"What are you his parole officer or something?" Jimmy asked.

"Not quite," Pete replied. "I'm his sponsor. Well, I was. When he was still in rehab."

"Oh great, a junkie," Jimmy sighed. "Just what I need."

"He's not a... well, he's kinda bad, but he mostly makes sense," Pete pointed out, like he was really making a case for this guy.

"So what does he want?" Jimmy pressed. "Other than to make asses out of both of us?"

"He said he's got something for you to do," Pete informed him. He didn't really look like the sort of guy to run errands for a lunatic with a death wish, but then guys who didn't look like criminals were actually damn useful. No policeman was going to stop the shy looking dude with a pink sweater who probably worked 9 to 5 in some office filing tax returns.

"Yeah? Then why isn't he here himself to do it?"

"He's busy... or something," Pete answered. "He said he's got an opportunity for you to capitalise on, so he gave me your address and the keys and said I was meant to pick you up..." Jimmy was almost starting to feel sorry for him. He clearly didn't want to be here and had no idea what was going on. Which also meant giving him shit wasn't going to get Jimmy anywhere. If he had issues with Gary, he was going to have to take them up in person.

"All right, let's go," he huffed. "I got a thing or two I want to say to this clown anyway."

"Oh," Pete sounded disheartened. "Are you gonna, uh... try to kill him?"

"What? No," Jimmy blurted. "Why, does that happen a lot?"

"I dunno, I guess so," Pete fumbled. "I was just going to say he's pretty hard to pin down. I mean, if you were going to kill him you'd have to do it properly."

"You've put some thought into it," Jimmy taunted as he grabbed some things and headed out of the apartment. "I'll have those keys he gave you, by the way," he added after locking the door, and Pete handed over a set of copies that looked like the ones he had to leave in the maintenance office when he moved in. That made things easier, at least. He could just rough up the super until he understood the importance of not just handing out spare keys to any lunatic with a story and fifty bucks.

Pete led the way to a shabby car that certainly wasn't stolen, or if it was had been a bum deal, because it gave a groan of protest when Jimmy got in. The engine got going on the fifth try and Pete's driving was unbearably safe. He even stopped to let a pedestrian cross the road. Jimmy almost fell asleep.

"Okay, we're here," he announced at last, rousing Jimmy from his doze. They were outside what looked like a junkyard, or a parking lot with an unusually high number of defunct cars in it. They didn't see Gary until he jumped down off the top of one and Jimmy nearly had a heart attack.

"Jimmy! Good to see you, friend," he began, but Jimmy cut him off by ripping the cigarette out of his mouth and throwing it over his shoulder.

"So what part of breaking into my apartment did you think was okay?" he challenged, and Gary was surprised for a second and then resolved back to a face of determination.

"Jimmy, pal," he soothed. "It was just a little... test of character. Don't worry, Pete's the most harmless thing in all Bullworth City. Right, Petey?"

"Don't call me that," Pete said caustically, leaning back on the bonnet of a bus and stewing to himself.

"Well if you feel like testing my character again, you're gonna end up in a whole loada shit," Jimmy threatened, but as with Earnest, Gary seemed to think it was all a joke.

"You worry too much," he decreed. "Look, to business. How well do you think you know this city?"

"What kinda question is that?" he shot. "I know the city just fine. I'm still alive, ain't I?"

"Questionable, Jimmy, but I'll let you have it," he taunted. "Humour me for a minute, and try to keep up. This City is a rat. A dirty, stinking rat that doesn't just withstand poison, it absorbs it and uses it to kill other rats with a venemous bite. This city is vile and rotten and it's ready for picking."

"That's what this is about?" Jimmy snorted. "You want to be the one who snaps it up?"

"Want to be? Will be," he corrected aloofly. "Come with me, Jimmy. I'm going to show you something." He set off towards one end of the parking lot burdened with purpose. Jimmy gave Pete a confused look, but only got a shrug.

"Is he always like this?" Jimmy asked.

"Pretty much," Pete answered, and trudged back in the direction of his car. Apparently he didn't need to come on whatever caper Gary was set on dragging Jimmy through. "I'll see you around, Jimmy," he said quietly. "I've got to get back to work." Doing what, Jimmy had to think, but by then Gary had gotten into another car that was undoubtedly not his and was slamming the horn like he wanted to wake the dead.

"Are you as slow as you are stupid?!" Gary screamed out the window. "Get in!" Figuring that it was easier to go along for the ride than try to avoid being run over, Jimmy got in the car, hoping for the best.

"Let me show you around," Gary announced dramatically, haring out onto the streets and taking a sharp left. "Now, you met Earnest already," he began, cruising past The Naughty Elf, his flagship strip joint and special services bar. "Perverted, geeky, more likely to pay someone to beat you up than do it himself, but he's got money for it so watch out."

"They don't scare me," Jimmy replied. "Guys like that are nothin' if you get past the muscle."

"True," Gary commended. "But they're sneaky bastards. It always pays to be careful." With a foot to the floor, they shot further through the city and started to climb the hill, heading for the Vale and Golden Row. "Of course, the Old Money could buy Earnest out and sell him back to himself ten times over if they wanted," he continued. "These are the town's old gangster families, the illegitimate yin to corrupt government's yang. Bent Lawyers, money launderers and dirty officials are more their sort of thing."

"Snobs," Jimmy declared. "Money doesn't protect you much in a fight."

"No, but it'll buy about twenty guys with machine guns to get in the way," Gary commented. "You'll have fun dealing with them if you don't go armed. And with friends."

"We'll see about that," Jimmy commented. Again they turned and swept away, over to the Italian corner and deep into New Coventry."

"This is where the Mafia sent all their poor, unsuccessful rejects," Gary narrated wistfully. "A few historic families, but it's Johnny Vincent who runs the show here. He's the one who got them organised in the first place. His girlfriend Lola is the one who'll tear them down."

"Then it can't be worth much," Jimmy pointed out. They got closer to his corner of town, where a bunch of Greasers in black jackets were fighting some punks in an alleyway. "These idiots spend more time fighting over their turf than doing any actual business," he professed at last.

"Very observant, Jimmy," Gary complimented sarcastically – or maybe that was just his usual tone. "But they're tough, so it's best not to mess with them too much yet."

"If they keep outta my way we're not gonna have any problems," Jimmy declared, but Gary's silence seemed to hint that he knew things Jimmy didn't yet.

"We'll see about that," he remarked cryptically, and took another sharp turn. "Of course, if it's discipline you want to talk about, it's Ted Thompson you need to worry about. Even Earnest stays out of his turf, and you don't go betting at a Thompson-owned bookies if you feel like keeping your money. Or your life, if your player doesn't take a dive or throw at the right time."

"Fixing bets is kid's work," Jimmy scoffed. "Don't any of these guys run real business?"

"Exactly," Gary seized viciously. "Exactly, Jimmy. They're all stuck in their ruts, bickering over small fries and scraping by with their corner of business. There's room at the top, and I want it."

"What makes you think you're so special?"

"Because I'm the only man in this whole city with a mind," he proclaimed arrogantly. "These dumb cunts won't know what's hit them."

"You think so?" Jimmy probed, wondering if he was riding along on a fast ticket to the bottom of a river. Ambitions were rarely rewarded in these parts.

"I know so," he replied. "With you, Jimmy, I... we are going straight to the top. I can feel it." He seemed too excited to be sober, Jimmy thought to himself. He wondered what kind of rehab that Pete guy had been talking about.

"What makes you think I'm in?" he suggested coldly.

"Oh, you want to sit in your apartment eating takeaway out of the box for the rest of your life?" he prompted. "Or is the idea to bunny-hop your way into prison where they'll look after you for free?"

"Shut up," he snapped. "I'm just saying you've got a lot of big ideas for one junkie in a stolen car."

"You don't know what it's like," Gary rushed. "You don't know the half of it, Jimmy. To look around and see how ripe this place is for the picking. I can see it. That's all you need to know."

"Why should I trust you?" he pointed out, and justly so.

"Why shouldn't you?" Gary shot. "All you can do is win with me. How are you going to get any lower than where you are already?"

"Hey," he growled. "I get by."

"Ohh you get by, but you don't live," he retorted. "Don't you want more, Jimmy? Your share of this rotten pie?"

"Rotten pie ain't my idea of a good time."

"Well it is mine," he shot. "So just sit tight and do as you're fucking told."

"You talk an awful lot of shit for someone who wants my help," Jimmy pointed out caustically.

"Not help," he corrected. "You'll get paid, and well. I'm a terrific negotiator." He seemed to think he was a terrific everything, but Jimmy decided to keep his mouth shut and see where the ride took him. In time he started to recognise his own neighbourhood.

"I don't need to tell you about blue skies, I'm sure," Gary remarked. "Lotta drugs, lotta creeps, and that crusty dropout Edgar runs things for now."

"Edgar's helped me out before," Jimmy said. "I'm not backstabbing anyone who's done me a favour."

"What's this, morals?" Gary scathed. "You're in Bullworth, friend. Those scruples aren't wanted here."

"Maybe I'll go somewhere they are appreciated then," he retorted.

"Settle down," Gary huffed. "Things are gonna work out just fine, Jimmy boy. You'll see." Jimmy saw his apartment block come around the corner, but Gary didn't slow down, and by the time they passed it he realised Gary wasn't done with him yet. "One last thing," he insisted. "Not far, I promise."

They pulled up at an abandoned primary school with a bus still bricked up in the playground and Gary got out of the car. He had a gun in his hand.

"There's just one thing I'm curious about, Jimmy," he began persuasively, and Jimmy had a sense that something was a little off. "If you'd... satisfy me, on it." He was holding out the gun, handle to Jimmy's hand.

"What's that for?" he asked stiffly, and Gary was trying to sell him on a smile.

"A little target practice," he soothed. "There's something I'm intending to prove myself right about." Jimmy took the gun from him and felt the cool weight in his hand. Unpleasantly familiar.

"Now what?" he said grumpily.

"Try to shoot out the windows of that bus," Gary instructed. They were about a hundred metres away from it, but Jimmy could make out the orange reflection of the windows in a nearby streetlight. He sighed and raised his hand.

Five rhythmic shots rang out with perfect symmetry, each followed by a shatter and a clang of metal. One, two, three, four, five windows broken with effortless precision.

"Hm," Gary murmured approvingly. "Just as I thought." Jimmy dropped the gun and handed it back to him, rubbing the recoil from his hand. "What are you, ex-military or something?"

"None of your fucking business," Jimmy growled. "And I still don't shoot people."

"Of course," Gary assuaged. "I was just interested."

"Now you're done," he said solidly. "So I can go hom-" An incoherent screaming broke away Jimmy's sentence, and a series of crashes from the bus revealed an old hobo was trying to stagger out.

"You didn't tell me there was someone in-" Jimmy shouted, but when he turned to look for Gary he was nowhere to be seen. Fucking typical.

"Youdamnedfuckingkids!" the hobo snarled, lurching for Jimmy. "I'll cut your eyes out!"

"Easy, grandpa!" Jimmy backed out. "I didn't know you were in there."

"Can't a guy OD in peace?!" the hobo shrieked. "Get outta here!"

"Why should I?" Jimmy snapped, the hobo shambling closer.

"Because I'll kill you!" came the reply. That was rich.

"You could try," he said. "By the looks of you I doubt you'd suceed."

"Whaddya want?" the old man demanded, standing a way off from Jimmy and staring him out.

"Nothin' I'm just taking in the night air," Jimmy remarked.

"You got any drugs?" the hobo demanded.

"No," he bit.

"Do you wanna buy some?" he offered next.

"No!" Jimmy spat.

"Then what're you doing here?!" the man screamed.

"I dunno, what're YOU doing here?" Jimmy barked back. With a long belch the hobo slumped onto his ass.

"I'm hitting rock bottom," he grovelled. "Once I coulda been somethin'... but now." He belched again. "Now I'm all washed up."

"Yeah, well ain't life hard," Jimmy commented sardonically. "Happens every day."

"Wait a second," the hobo called out as he started to turn away. "You wanna help out an old vet?" Jimmy hesitated, and hated how he deliberated too much.

"How?" he asked reluctantly.

"If you bring me some parts I can start up my ol' business again," he said drunkenly. "Climb back up the ladder, y'nno."

"What kinda parts?" Jimmy asked suspiciously. "A new liver?"

"Haah!" the man brayed. "You've got balls, kid. I like it. Just a few pieces of lab equipment. And some cough medicine... for my... chest," he said woodenly.

"Why should I?"

"Because I'll help you out if you do," he muttered. "You don't need to go far, just into the old school. They've got rooms fulla the stuff."

"If it's so easy why don't you go?" Jimmy pointed out.

"I'm old and weak!" the man spat. "I lost my knees in Korea, my lungs in Vietnam, and everything else when I came back here and the government threw me out on my medal-wearing ass!"

"Hey, take it easy," Jimmy urged. "All right, all right, I'll get your shit." Anything to keep him from going on, Jimmy reasoned, but he knew he could've just walked away. He was still a sucker, he reminded himself as he ripped old boards off a window and climbed inside. It was dark, but he used what little light he had to find a lab stacked high with old science equipment. He filled an old crate with one of everything and then blundered around some more for the nurse's office. There were a few big bottles that were probably a few years expired, but that was the best the hobo was getting from Jimmy.

Back out in the playground the old-timer was nowhere to be found, so Jimmy had to go all the way up to the bus and rap on the side.

"Whaaaaat?!" came a roar from inside.

"Grandpa! I got your shit!" Jimmy bellowed, and some dirty arms snaked out of one of the newly bust windows.

"Much obliged, sonny," he cawed. "Oh yes, this'll do just fine. Come back later and I'll have somethin' good for you."

"Whatever," Jimmy dismissed, washing his hands of the situation. He assumed Gary had fucked off and left him to walk home, but when he was a few feet out onto the street a blaring horn took him from behind.

"How'd it go?" Gary asked, hanging out the car window and pulling up alongside Jimmy, who just carried on walking.

"None of your business," Jimmy declared. "You disappeared quick enough, didn't you?"

"I had no choice," he excused. "He hates me."

"Who? That messed up old hobo?" Jimmy suggested. "You're even more of a pussy than I thought," he degraded.

"That's no ordinary man," Gary said aloofly. "You just met Crazy Walt, the best meth cook in the fucking state."

"Then what's he doing living in a goddam bus?" Jimmy shot.

"Well, that might be partly why he doesn't like me," Gary remarked vaguely. "Something about a deal gone bad and a shipment that might not've reached its... never mind," he cut off. "The point is you're just the kind of hardass he takes a shine to, which you managed for me perfectly." He seemed triumphant in this victory he had almost no hand in. He'd driven to a school bus and then fucked off at the first sign of trouble. "Very good, Jimmy. Things are going well already."

"Whatever," he grunted. "Next time you feel like dragging me on a three-hour trip around town and a fight with a hobo, you better have some money to back it up."

"Relax!" Gary hissed, throwing a wad of bills out of the car so quick Jimmy almost dropped it down a drain. "There's your fucking money, happy, princess?"

"Not until I know you're well away from me," he growled.

"Some people," Gary huffed, and then with a loud rev pulled away from Jimmy and raced down the street.

"Thank fuck for that," Jimmy murmured wearily. If he was lucky, Gary might hit a truck on the way to wherever it was he was going and die before he could hassle Jimmy any more.

Then again, things didn't usually work out the way he wanted. Chances were he'd be seeing far more of Gary Smith than he wanted or needed to.

I don't usually do this but I get lonely on the internet so if you have any thoughts on this rehash please leave a review, I don't bite (unless requested).