Lyrics to Live It Up by Thor (1987)
Chad McCann leaned against the counter, cracked open a beer, and took a long, thirsty drink. Next to him, his boy Langston sat in a straight back chair and absently gazed out the window at the parking lot, where a black man in a polo shirt gassed up his car. Music drifted from a radio so old it had a fucking tape deck and Chad cranked it up.
There you are
Standin' on the corner
Doin, baby, everything you wanna
WHo said I would always stay with you.
Langston looked up at Chad and regarded him with a blank expression. His eyes said everything Chad needed to know. Please turn that down, we're at work. "Do it yourself," Chad said and took a slug of his beer, "if you got the balls."
It's in your eyes
Guaranteed to sin
Get in my car
You know the state I'm in
It's time to do what you do
It was late Sunday afternoon and they were manning the cash register at Flop's Gas'N'Go on Union Street in Royal Woods. Chad ran the garage attached to the store and Langston operated the cash register, stocked shelves, swept, and cleaned the bathrooms. Business had been slow all day, as it usually was on Sunday, and Chad came in from the shop to hang out and shoot the shit. Chad didn't like very many people in Royal Woods, but Langston was one of them. Tall, guant, and quiet, Langston looked kind of like a bitch, but he fought like Bruce fucking Lee, and Chad respected the hell out of that. Men in the year 2043 were all a bunch of feminized pussies who made Chad sick to his stomach, so when he found a dude who wasn't a cuck, he befriended him, cuz that shit's rare, bro.
His and Langston's relationship was the closest thing to an actual friendship either one of them had. On their off time, they drank beer and talked shit, worked on Chad's car, and drove around with high octane rock and roll playing and looked for babes.
They didn't do the latter one anymore; both had girlfriends, and both were loyal. Some people might think it's manly to sling their little dick around even when they were with someone, but not Chad. That was some little boy shit. That white-haired fucker Lincoln Loud who lived up the street from him did it, and so did Lincoln's sons, and they weren't men at all. They were a bunch of fucking punks, fuck them. A real man has one woman and one woman only. A real man has the willpower and self-control to keep his prick in his pants. Of course, hardly anyone did that anymore because society was wide the fuck open. dO wHaT yOu WaNt. Marriage rates were down, poverty rates were up, most kids didn't have a dad, and gangs were rampant. Oh, but that has nothing to do with everyone being suicidally selfish, it's all white supremacy's fault.
Fucking bullshit.
But whatever. He wasn't about to say that out loud: He'd lose his job, his bank account, and his trailer if he did.
God bless America.
He reached out to turn the radio all the way up since Langston wasn't going to do anything, and like a shot, Langston grabbed his wrist and twisted it.
Live it up
Live it up, baby
Live it up
"Ow!" Chad screamed. He stumbled and almost went to his knees.
"Turn it down," Langston said serenely.
"Fuck you, faggot," Chad hissed through clenched teeth.
Langston wrenched Chad's wrist, and all the fight went out of him. He sank to his knees and pounded the floor.
"Turn it down."
"ALRIGHT!"
Langston let him go, and Chad staggered to his feet. "Fuckin queer," Chad said. He turned the radio down and slammed the rest of his beer. He and Langston sparred a lot. Sometimes Chad kicked his ass, and sometimes Langson kicked his.
It was a blast.
The bell over the door rang, and Chad looked up. Lindsey Sweetwater, clad in a light, cottony black dress, came in, followed by Alex, Langston's girlfriend. Alex hopped onto the counter butt first, leaned over, and kissed Langston. "We're here," she announced.
"I see that," Langston said.
Lindsey leaned against the counter and Chad did the same, a salacious grin carving across his face. "Hey," he said.
"Hey," Lindsey replied.
"What'cha doin?" he asked.
"We were just driving around," she said, "and we decided to come see you."
"Sweet," Chad said. He fetched a beer from the cooler, popped the tab, and held it out to Lindsey. "Thirsty?"
She took it and drank half of it at a single go, throat bobbing sexily up and down just like it did when she sucked his dick. On the outside, Lindsey was as girly as they came (which is why Chad liked her...he didn't want no mannish bitch). Looks can be deceiving, though. She worked on cars, liked camping, drank beer, and ate like a fucking truck driver.
In other words...she might be the One.
Handing the beer back, she batted her eyes seductively and brushed her fingertips over his knuckles. "When do you get off?" she asked.
"When you wrap your legs around me and won't let go," Chad said.
Lindsey laughed so hard she snorted. "I mean what time -?"
A series of loud honks cut her off. Everyone turned to the window just as a piece of Ford F150 passed in the street. Beep-beep-beep. "Who's that?" Alex asked.
"That's that faggot Flip," Chad said. He waved his middle finger and called out even though Flip couldn't hear him. "Fuck you, Flip!"
Flip, for decades, had been the only gas station in town. When Chad and Langston's boss, Rajh, opened three years ago, Flip lost his shit and started stalking and harrassing the place. Rajh, no bitch himself despite looking like one, trolled him back by renaming the place Flop's and by actively trying to steal all the business in town. He offered more stuff, lower prices, and cleaner everything, since Flip was a filthy scumfuck. Since then, Flip was always driving by and glaring or honking his horn, all seventy-eight years of him. If he was forty years younger, Chad would have already kicked the shit out of him, but he was a weak old man, so Chad held himself back.
"What a jerk," Alex said and furrowed her brow.
Lindsey just rolled her eyes. "Anyway -"
No sooner had the words left her mouth than two muscular guys in tank tops rushed into the store.
Both of them were holding iron pipes.
Chad's heart came to a complete stop and time seemed to slow around him. His first, and only, thought was for Lindsey. Whoever these assholes were, they came to fuck shit up, and Lindsey was less than five paces from them.
Blood crashed against Chad's temples and his breathing deepened. Instinct took over and without even realizing what he was doing, he was diving across the counter. Lindsey screamed and Alex threw herself off the counter and sheltered behind it.
Chad hit the nearest goon and speared him to the floor, landing on top. The pipe clattered to the ground and rolled away. He slammed his fist down into the bastard's face, smashing his teeth and nose. He cocked his fist back for another blow, but something hit him hard in the back of the head. Burning agony exploded over him and he went limp. The pipe came down across his back, and he jerked. He rolled onto his side and the goon went to hit him again, but Langston grabbed him from behind. He circled his forearm around the guy's neck and wrenched his arm up between his shoulder blades, making him drop the pipe. The guy thrashed and fought, kicking Langston's shins and throwing his head back in an attempt to hit Langston's face.
Woozy and sick to his stomach, Chad got to his hands and knees and took a series of deep, fortifying breaths. A wave of vertigo crashed over him and pressure swelled in the center of his skull. For a second, he thought he was going to puke, but then it passed and he struggled to his feet.
The goon - the one not currently bleeding and groggy on the floor - rammed his elbow back into Langston's stomach and Langtson's hold broke. The guy turned, did his best Jackie Chan, and caught Langston on the chin. Alex and Lindsey both watched from behind the counter, screaming and hugging each other. Chad grabbed the guy by the back of the shirt with both hands and flung him into a shelf full of stationary and motor oil. The shelf collapsed and the guy fell to the floor, popping back up like nothing. Chad swung, and the guy jumped back. He hit a spinning kick and Chad dodged, then rushed in, head down. He hit the guy and they fell back, crushing bags of chips and cookies beneath them. The guy drove his knee into Chad's crotch and leaden pain ballooned in Chad's stomach.
Pushing him off, the guy got to his feet, and Langston was on top of him in a flash, hitting him with a wicked flurry of punches. The guy shoved Langston and punched him hard in the nose, busting it like an overripe tomato.
Suddenly, the iron bar was in Chad's hand. He brought it up and down on the guy's skull with a sickening clang. The guy dropped, and he and Langson commenced kicking him in the sides and head. Kneeling, Langston rolled him over and grabbed the front of his shirt, lifting him off the floor. "Who sent you?"
The guy was dazed and bleeding, red gushing from his broken mouth.
"Who sent you?" Langston yelled and shook him.
A blood bubble popped on the man's cracked lips. "F-F-Flip."
With that, he passed out.
Langston and Chad looked at each other.
Of course. It made so much sense. Flip couldn't stand having competition. It ate at him day and night . He probably lost fucking sleep over it. Chad could picture the old basatrd pacing the floors at night, seething like a fucking retard. How dare someone come into town and steal his business, someone who wasn't a complete fucking shylock like him? He raged and raged until finally, he paid someone to come in and fuck the place up. Only he didn't count on Chad and Langston beating them the fuck up.
"That son of a bitch," Chad breathed. Something trickled down the back of his neck and he pressed his hand to the back of his head, his fingertips coming away bloody.
Alex and Lindsey came around the counter, Alex hugging Langston and Lindsey throwing her arms around Chad. "Are you okay?" she asked worriedly. "You're bleeding."
"I'm fine," Chad said, fire in his eyes, "but Flip won't be."
After convincing the girls to get lost, Chad and Langston heaped the two goons into the back of a tow truck with FLOP'S on the doors and drove across town to Flip's. They backed into the parking lot, got out, and dragged the goons onto the pavement. Flip watched from inside, his brow angled down. When Chad and Langston started walking toward him, he looked afraid and disappeared. Instead of going inside where he could shoot them, they went up to the window, and Chad threw a brick inside, shattering the glass. Flip cowered behind the register. "Next time it'll be your head, you old faggot!" Chad screamed.
On the way out, Langston drove over Flip's mailbox, knocking it down. Chad had his .45 on him and almost said fuck it and shot the gas pump, but didn't. The last thing he needed was a murder charge.
"How you feel?" Langston asked.
"My head aches like a motherfucker," Chad said.
"I'll drop you off and go back to work," Langston said. "I gotta clean up the mess."
At home, Chad dropped onto the couch, sucked down a bottle of beer, and passed out. He regretted not torching Flip's, but like the saying goes:
There's always tomorrow.
