Chapter 4: Trip to the Pink Drink Land

The Hole was a miraculous place. For some reason, somebody had decided that Bullworth Academy needed humongous sewers and a huge draining pool under it. The most common theory for that was that someone botched with the measurements while drawing the plans and accidentally made the place a few sizes too large. As a result, it was unnecessarily big for its intended purpose but it was a great place to play games and hold duels.

Even more astonishing was that the principal didn't know what students meant when they talked about the Hole. He knew that there was vacant space under the school and that there was an underground fighting ring, but he just had never been able to make the connection. A big thanks for that went to the janitor, Dennis Luntz, actually. That man hated everyone, especially the principal, and loved to see kids beating the hell out of each other. Furthermore, he accepted cash.

When Larry reached the Hole, brilliantly lit compared to the rest of the sewer, he felt dizzy and disoriented. Whatever Lola had spiked his soda with, some of it was still coursing through his system. When he got used to the lights and started to hear again, he realized there was quite a crowd: even some townies were there. Someone even seemed to have a video camera. Larry figured that Johnny had wanted his execution to be as public as it could possibly be.

And there he was, standing boldly in the middle of the empty draining pool, accompanied by Norton. Johnny Vincent. His dark eyes pierced the space between Larry and him and his seething fury was evident even from where Larry was standing. Norton was looking at Larry too: he seemed to plea him to not come. Out of all the people present in or around the improvised fighting ring, he understood Larry's anguish the best.

Well, there was one possible exception. The black greaser looked to the side and seemed to gesture Larry that he should look there too. Lola was standing there, smiling victoriously as she basked in Johnny Vincent's explosive wrath. Larry's heart sunk at the sight. The rest of his high school life was probably depending on the mercy of that demon. He gulped as he started climbing down the ladder. As he did that, the Hole suddenly became a lot quieter.

"Well, well, well. Peanut, or should I say, Brutus. You finally decided to show up, you treacherous snake!" Johnny said with a low, ominous voice, only interrupted by a tiny maniacal jitter somewhere in the middle.

"Sorry boss. I overslept", Larry said flatly as he turned to face the king of the greasers.

He quickly caught a glimpse of Norton climbing up the ladder behind Johnny. Now he was truly alone.

"No excuses, ya little shit! Me 'n' Lola, we both trusted you, look what happened!" the enraged greaser hissed.

Larry squinted his eyes. He wasn't exactly sure what kind of version of the story his friend was buying.

"You get my precious queen drunk, do disgusting things with her, hide like a scared lil' girl, and then have the gall to spread shitty lies!"

Oh, okay. That cleared things up a bit.

"Uh, well, boss...", Larry started, but was cut off.

"If you think I'm gonna believe some pathetic story about Lola, MY LOLA, druggin' you, you've got another thing comin'! You fuckin' sicko!" Johnny roared.

Defeated, Larry took a deep breath. At least he had tried to get to him. Then, Johnny turned to the audience, spreading his arms brashly as he pointed at other people with his fingers as if they were guns.

"It don't matter who you are! Who you're friends with or how strong you think you are! If you touch my Lola, my queen, I'm gonna beat you down, with my bare hands, and make, you, KNEEL!" Johnny raged.

The Hole was very quiet for a moment, waiting for him to say more, but when he remained quiet, everyone cheered. This was going to be one hell of a show. Johnny turned his attention back at his opponent, who looked back at him in a daze.

"Ready to lose, Peanut?" he asked hoarsely and lunged at Larry.

Larry stumbled backwards, barely dodging a hard punch straight into his face. He could no longer match up to Johnny in a one-on-one match and with his feet this unstable, this was going to be a curb stomp fight, he reckoned. He felt sorry for people who had bet on him, if there were any.

There was another incoming punch and Larry had no chance of dodging it this time. It hit his lower ribs, hard. Johnny backed out, marveling his work as his right-hand man grunted and bent forward from the pain.

"Look at the vulgar paupers beating themselves silly!" Larry thought he heard some preppie say. Everyone in the Hole was cheering wildly, except the greasers themselves.

"I shoulda known. You were always so buddy-buddy with my girl. My mistake, I suppose, since you ain't but a liability. Shoulda pounded you into your place ages ago!" Johnny growled.

Larry's eyes shot open and he looked upwards. The crowd probably couldn't hear a thing, and Larry had trouble hearing it too. Nevertheless, it stung. It stung far more than the punch he had gotten. Even if it were just the anger making his friend unreasonable, it was a horrible thing to say.

In his stupor, the shorter greaser let his defenses drop entirely. His arms dropping to his sides was Johnny's cue: the greaser king let out a bestial snarl and landed a punch squarely in Larry's face. The weakened youth fell down hard and, for a brief moment, he thought it was over. A loud buzz covered the sound of students insulting him for not putting up a fight and the world seemed to spin before his eyes when he tried to open them.

Then, though, he heard Johnny's voice piercing the deafening noise.

"Get up, Larry, pal."

At first, Larry thought he had simply imagined it. That friendly, assertive voice that always made butterflies flutter in his stomach for reasons he wished he had never found out about.

Sheesh, he thought to himself, that's all I can think of right now? I really am pretty fuckin' queer.

Then he heard Johnny's voice again.

"Get up buddy. I'm so disappointed in you. Friends don't screw around with their friends' women!"

Suddenly, a surge of anger coursed through Larry's veins. The invigorating effect of adrenaline started to pull his mind back to the surface and returned some of the much needed strength into his limbs. Slowly, he stood up to meet Johnny's dark, demanding gaze with his own eyes, full of cold, passive fury.

"Now we're talkin'!" Johnny cheered. Approving whistles came from the crowd.

"Right", Larry said, nodding. He seemed to be very determined, although for a different reason than everyone else thought. He wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and then, he grabbed his leather jacket. Boldly at first, but then tentatively as he looked at his fellow greasers looking at him and Johnny.

Johnny's little words of wisdom from just a moment ago came back to haunt him:

I'm so disappointed in you. Friends don't screw around with their friends' women!

Disgusting, Larry thought. How dare he talk about friendship at this point, with that voice? He had held their friendship higher than anything. Higher than three square meals a day. Higher than his dignity. Higher than his inexplicable, torturous need to be closer to his friend. There had been so many times when he could've taken advantage of Johnny's anger, confusion, and intoxication to try to get more of him, but he had valued what they had and had kept to himself. It had been hard to pull off, and this was his thanks.

Now that he thought about it, maybe he himself should be blamed. His priorities were... Sort of skewed. He had given up his dignity and the fulfillment of his basic needs for their friendship and Johnny had done the same for his relationship with Lola. How was he any different? Larry looked at his prized leather jacket, now off his shoulders and in his hands, not feeling the empowering rush of anger anymore. He had gotten so many fierce, blaming words billowing inside him, but they were slowly draining away, slipping through his fingers.

He looked up, swallowing and glancing at the impatient spectators. Then he looked at Johnny. He extended his arm in front of him, holding his jacket.

"From now on, I'm no longer a greaser", he said with a strong, clear voice and let the jacket drop onto the damp, dirty floor. It lay there, among the dry leaves and bits of dirt that had come in with the rainwater.

Johnny looked at him doubtfully, but Larry's face didn't even twitch.

"I've had enough. If Lola ain't leavin', I ain't stayin'. Do your worst", he added calmly. He had always wanted to do something dramatic like this. Too bad the circumstances were kind of lousy.

His leader's look of suspicion turned into confusion, but only for a moment. The anger came back multiplied when his earlier words hit him: Larry was leaving. By Johnny's standards, that was somehow very unfair and unreasonable.

"FINE!" Johnny Vincent roared and kicked the poor, defenseless leather jacket to the side with a furious swing of his leg. Then he launched a head-on attack against his ex-best friend.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the crowd, Christy Martin was having a rumorgasm. This fight would provide fuel for so many rumors you wouldn't believe. The guy everybody knew as Peanut was unsteady on his feet as he tried to block and dodge Johnny's punches and kicks and he did so with considerable skill and fluidity despite his lack of coordination. The way he refused to attack his friend was also deliciously tragic.

"Amazing! He knows drunken fist kung-fu!" she heard Ethan Robinson yell in surprise and admiration.

Johnny shot vicious, provocative insults at Larry, but he seemed to only get more reluctant to fight him. He hadn't thrown a single punch at him and he wasn't going to. This infuriated Johnny beyond belief and he swore to punch his teeth into his throat.

Then, the scuffle came to an abrupt halt. Johnny seemed to be hesitating to attack for some reason.

"Hello, Earth to Peanut?" he said, trying to not sound worried.

Larry couldn't hear him though. All the sounds flowing into his ears were muddled into something horrific he couldn't even identify as human. The young man's face was totally lacking of color other than the blood from his bruises when he looked around him, his sight clouded. His usually stern and fearless eyes seemed scared and lost as they stared into the hazy crowd and the darkness of the sewers.

Larry could feel a cold sweat break on his skin everywhere as he tried to focus on something, anything. The walls and the floor seemed to faze out of existence, somehow, and people seemed to be standing on thin air. When he looked in front of him, he saw Johnny's familiar feet. When he tried to follow his legs up with his eyes, he suddenly started falling. He fell really deep, somewhere where there was nothing but darkness and strangely luminous, red water. His limbs became powerless in the cold liquid, so he started to drown.

And drown he did.

Author's Notes: So yeah, I call the place you may fall into during a glitch "Pink Drink Land" because I'm lame. The mission "Letterbox Armageddon" always sends me there before the graphs load and it's trippy.