It is dusk in Mobotropolis, this is around the time that people will be having dinner, returning from work, or be putting their kids in bed for their nights sleep. For a certain orange hedgehog who goes by the name 'Oxide', it was pretty much morning for him. It was Sunday on May 14th, 1980 Oxide slowly picked himself up from his bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and a less-than-white T-Shirt. Oxide made his way to the bathroom, stepping over all the drug paraphernalia and broken records on his floor, he opened the door and walked in, looking into the mirror. He grabbed a bottle of hair gel and lubed his hands up with the stuff, he then ran his hands through his messy hair, spiking it up to make it stand on end. He stood still for a while as he let it set, once it had, he went back into his bedroom and began to rummage through his clothes drawer, looking for something to wear for what little of the day there was left. He took off his shirt and underwear, and put on a shirt that had 4 black bars, put in place to make it look like a flag, on the top it said 'Black' and below it said 'Flag'. He put on a pair of black pants, half of the left leg being held together with safety pins.

He then walked out of his bedroom, only to be greeted with his dad screaming in his face. "ITS ABOUT FUCKING TIME YOU GOT UP YOU LAZY FAGGOT PUNKER!" He screamed into Oxides face, slapping him before storming off. Oxide just walked to the door, grabbed his jacket, put on his shoes, grabbed his guitar and skateboard and made his way out the door. "HEY! GET BACK HERE!" His dad commanded, chasing after him. Oxi skated into the sunset on his skateboard, jacket slung over his should and guitar case in hand, he grabbed the bumper of a Station wagon and began to hitch a ride to the his bands practise space. He let go after the car was starting to take a turn that would lead further away from his destination.

He skated up to the practise space, which looked like any other suburban home, except for the fact that on the door there was a big Swaztika with a 'No' symbol over lapping it. It read 'Nazi Punks fuck off' in big bold, black capital letters. He pushed the door open and inside was Tristan, Napalm and Vicious, all of them sitting on the couch and taking hits off of what looked like a hand crafted bong. "Hey guys..." Oxi waved to the 3 of them, they all looked over, Vicious smiled. "Oh hey Oxide, glad you made it!" He said with a smile as he got up and passed him the bong, Oxi took a hit and let out a cloud of smoke. Oxide chuckled as he passed the bong to Napalm. "So what time do we have to be at the Cuckoos nest? And whos playing before and after us?" Oxide asked Tristan, Sitting on the arm rest of the couch. "We gotta be there in like 10 minutes, the band playing before us is a band called '999', 'pperantly they're from the UK. The bands playing after us are the Adolescents, Circle jerks, Black flag, and then TSOL..." Tristan then cracked open a 40 oz, it was a tradition for him, and at times the entire band, to get really wasted before a show, even though all of them were under 21, hell only Tristan was legally an Adult.

"Hey whats with the red mark on your muzzle man?" Napalm asked as he looked at Oxide, this caused everyone to look at Oxides face, where there was a very visible red mark on his right cheek. "Dad?" Tristan looked at him, showing some sympathy. "...Yah..." Oxi finally uttered, looking away before looking back at Tristan. "...You gonna hog that 40 oz or what?" He smirked, grabbing the bottle before taking a swig from it before passing it to the others to drink from. "We should probably get going, come on, lets load this shit in." Tristan got up and started to haul the amps out of the house and the band soon followed in Tristans footsteps. Soon enough, the van was loaded up along with the band and they were doing 80 in a 50 zone to the club.

They got there just in time, no time for soundcheck. But enough time to get everything hauled onto the stage, set up the mics, amps and drum kit, plug everything in and have just enough time to spare for Tristan to finish off the 40oz before the crowd gathered infront of them. Oxides band was able to draw decent sized crowds to their shows, around 100-150 people on a good day, and 20-40 people on a bad day but hey, people were still seeing them play. Oxides band, going by the name 'The Methematics' ripped through their 30 minute setlist, playing songs such as 'Kill all authority' or 'Bacon Squad' or 'Welcome to Hell'.

"Bullshits neverending
arguements so condescending
Your a fucking hypocrite
Why don't you fucking quit

Sick and tired of your shit
Stuck up whiny little bitch
Don't get your way, throw a fit
Can't stand the fact
That your a fucking hypocrite

Argue on the phone all day
Shove all reason away
You just can't be fucking asked
To do something, get off your ass

(Chorus)"

Oxides vocals were harsh, and out of key. He couldn't sing in key to save his fucking life, but the guitars, bass and drums made up for it. And Oxides songwriting lyric wise wasn't to bad either. They finished their set and hauled everything off and into the van, sticking around in a nearby Laundromat while waiting for the next band to begin playing. In the laundry mat, it was quite common to store Alcohol in one of the out of order dryers. There was usually plenty of liquid spirit to go around for many of the punks, many of whom were getting into the club via fake ID. It also wasn't uncommon to see shows get shut down before they finished cause the rednecks in the bar over called 'Zubies' began fights with the other punkers. Luckily it wasn't one of those nights, atleast not yet.

What Black flag began playing, 3 songs in and all hell broke loose. 10 Rednecks wearing football helmets and carrying aluminium baseball bats came up to the club. The punkers saw this and 100 punks were chasing out of 10 Rednecks, The punks caught up with some of them and started beating the living shit out of them, One skinhead grabbed one of the bats and started bringing it down on the rednecks head. If it wasn't for the helmets they were wearing, this Rednecks head would be nothing but brain matter, luckily Oxide and the band managed to get out of there after the crowd cleared and they floored it down the road, Oxide was dropped off at his house, he snuck in through the window leading into his room and crawled into bed. But before doing that, he took a couple of Indica filled bong hits and after doing that, he crawled into bed and fell asleep. Another day of being a punker in the early 80s.